‘From the mind of M. Night Shyamalan’, reads the unfortunate title in the trailer of the new film Devil, in which five strangers are trapped in an elevator, and one isn’t who they appear to be (Cue theramin). In actuality, Shyamalan – the fallen-from-grace writer/director of The Sixth Sense and The Happening – is only credited with the story, so he can’t be held entirely responsible for why the film's scant 80 minutes feel so protracted.
One of the pitfalls of the supernatural thriller genre, which Devil falls victim to, is that with omnipresent forces as antagonists, there tends to be little at stake. Assaulting the audience with all sorts of freaky stuff comes at the expense of internal logic and narrative coherence. Accordingly, the film begins to feel like being trapped in an elevator with a bunch of unpleasant people. Saving it from being a total wash is Tak Fujimoto’s (Badlands) cinematography. Even as the film eventually reveals itself as a risible Sunday School fable, it’s easy to zone out and groove on the nifty camera acrobatics instead.
Arriving hot on the heels of the similarly claustophobic thriller Buried, the shortcomings of Devil are cast into even sharper relief. The latter maintained suspense without leaving the confines of a coffin, whereas the latter struggles to do so, even with an ample prologue and time spent with the authorities scratching their heads from the outside. And speaking of coffins, Devil is another nail in the proverbial one of Shyamalan’s career.
Review originally published Drum Media Issue 10/36, p74 (Flipbook here)
First off, the bad news: The Last Exorcism is one of those faux-found-footage scarefests (ala Blair Witch/Paranormal Activity); the kind of which are gonna keep getting made until their collective profits dwindle. The good news is that it’s good stuff, wisely assuming the form of a straight-up mockumentary rather than attempting to create the illusion of watching home movies made by self-obsessed assholes.
Additonally, the mock-doco format – a collection of gimmicky tics masquerading as gospel – turns out to be apt for its central subject. Wonderfully named Cotton Marcus (a stellar performance from Patrick Fabian) is an evangelical minister, but no longer of the faith, and only continuing in the profession to raise health insurance funds for his deaf son. Now he’s on a mission – armed with a documentary crew, he sets out for the film’s titular job, in an effort to expose exorcisms for the dirty sham that they are. But it’s a dilapidated backwoods Deep South home that Marcus arrives at – so, no such luck. From thereon, the spooky occurrences increase, the Southern Gothic atmosphere thickens, and viewers scarred by The Exorcist at an early age should feel pangs of queasy nostalgia.
It’s only until the third act that the eternal question of ‘why on earth is someone still filming this’ arises, especially when the cameraman has already expressed doubts about continuing. And the less said about certain decisions made by key characters during the climax, the better. Still, with its efficient slow-burning preceding, The Last Exorcism builds up enough audience goodwill that such missteps can be forgiven. For a moment, the future of ass-ugly, shakycam horror flicks looks a little bright.
Review originally published Drum Media Issue 1037 (Flipbook here)
