One
of the more controversial films ever made, it is based on The Devils of Loudonby
Aldous Huxley, published in 1952. The book itself is based upon actual events
in the French city of Loudon in the early 17th century. In it, accusations
are made against Urbain Grandier, an outspoken Catholic Monseigneur, who is
accused by the local order of cloistered nuns of witchcraft and trafficking with
the devil. This is parlayed by Cardinal Richelieu (the go-to villain of French period
pieces) into a political struggle to demolish the city’s walls, the last metropolis
in France to retain such fortifications. This is a move which Grandier
vigorously opposes and which results in him being burnt at the stake.
Oliver
Reed plays the lead, Urbain Grandier, in a more restrained manner than his usual
scenery chewing style, but is still able to express incredible intensity even
when absolutely still. He and Ken Russell worked well together on several
projects. So well in fact that Russell cast Reed in a leading role on his next
film Tommy, a musical, despite the
fact that Reed couldn’t sing. While Reed eventually gained a reputation
(deserved or not) of being an abusive alcoholic jerk- or just being a standard
Englishman- and was reduced to making terrible TV movies, before dying on the
set of Gladiator, The Devils was shot when Reed was at the
high point in his acting prowess, and it shows. The final scene, when we learn Grandier's fate, is perhaps one of his finest performances.
Playing
opposite him is Vanessa Redgrave as a hunchbacked abbess of a convent of
cloistered nuns, Sister Jeanne. She develops a lust for Reed’s character and
when it is not returned, she leads the charge against Grandier, accusing him of
canoodling with the devil and causing her and her fellow nuns to be possessed. Her
character mainly conveys hysterical tendencies and sexual frustration with
which she gives a no-hold-barred performance, managing to standout in a film
that is already over the top. Her character’s fantasy scenes (most of which
were originally cut) contain much religious iconography with some not-at-all
subtle sexual innuendo and what really gave the film its reputation.
Russell,
as always, manages to do more with less. This was a fairly low budget film, but
you would never know it from the richness of the atmosphere, the costumes, and
the pseudo-decadence of pre-revolutionary France. The sets were modeled after
Fritz Lang’s Metropolis and were
crafted to give the possessed nun scenes an alien quality, which distorts the
reality of the situation. Russell often juxtaposes the nun’s writhing and other
bizarre antics with scenes and peace and beauty. This comes is especially effective
in one scene where Reed is performing the sacrament of communion by a peaceful
river, interspersed with scenes of the nuns running riot in a cathedral.
The Devils initially received very mixed
reviews and some very strong emotions due to its sexual and religious content. Some
called it “a grand fiesta for sadists and perverts” while others claimed it was
Russell’s “most brilliant cinematic achievement.” But no one ever states that
it is a boring film. The possessed nun scenes are its most notable part, and
the cause for its acclaim and X rating in both America and Britain- dooming it
at the box office. The controversy has
stuck with the film over the decades. So much so that the parent company
(Warner Brothers) refused to release it on DVD, even after film critic Mark
Kermode discovered 20 minutes of missing footage (including the infamous “rape
of Christ scene”) which would guarantee sales amongst fans. Eventually Warner
Brothers relented, but only after a lengthy online petition and with a very
limited run.
The
new edition of The Devils is still edited
and censored from the original cut. To get past the X rating (NC-17 for you
millennials) all of the male nudity had to be cut (a flapping penis is only
acceptable if the character is blue apparently) and much of the full frontal
variety from the cathedral scenes, a more grotesque version of the enema from the
first exorcism attempt, a few frames of Grandier’s legs being crushed, and some
overdubbing of the nuns yelling “cunt” and “fuck me.” But a lot has been added
to make The Devils a much more
striking film than it was before.
One
crisp winter evening, on a struggling farm, the Cock entered the Ass’s stable
and hopped upon his head.
“What
are you doing?” Asked the Ass, “It is not natural for you to be in here.”
“I go
where I please.” Said the Cock. “One place is as good as another.”
“But
you belong in the coop with the hens and chicks, where the Farmer put you. What
will he think if you stay here?”
“I
prefer it in here. The coop is so crowded and noisy. With less people about,
it’s much more comfortable for one of my size. The Farmer will just have to
understand that.”
Though
he did not say it, the Ass enjoyed the Cock being there as well, and they spent
the night appreciating each other’s company. The next morning the Farmer
entered the Stable and saw the Cock on the Ass. He raised a fuss, for he always
became angry when things were different from what he had imagined, and chased the
Cock back to the hen house.
Later
when, in defiance of the Farmer, the Cock returned, the Ass turned him away.
For he was afraid of what others would think and say. The Cock left, never to
return. The Ass spent the rest of his days miserable and alone.
Too
late he realized that “True happiness only comes from being yourself.” For more fun try books by Rex Hurst
It was on one of those backwoods roads where asphalt is an optional
extra and streetlights are rarer than unicorns. I was zipping along, on my way
to a birthday party, taking directions from my GPS like an automaton, when the
damn thing ran into the road from a clutch of trees, right into the space my
passenger side tire was about to occupy.
Crunch.
What the
Hell? It was not a busy night. I was the only car on the road. Why did the damn
thing have to pick that exact moment to charge across the street? Did the sight
of my headlights suddenly remind it that it had urgent business on the other
side? Was it done on a dare- maybe peer pressured into the run by some older
possums? Was it just not paying attention? Was it suicidal? Was it blind?
In my rearview mirror I saw its
corpse slumped by the side of the road, missing a head. My stomach sank. I felt
I had committed some great sin against … God? Heyzeus? Mother Nature? All of it
together, smothered in Catholic guilt.
Living in the South, I’ve seen more
than my share of roadkill. Dogs, cats, deer, and plenty of possums splattered
all over the place. But this is the first time that I caused any. I had
violated the 6th commandment, “Thou shalt not kill.” It’s pretty
simply and there is no addendum excluding mistakenly squashed possums.
For some reason the casualty rate
seems higher on Southern roads than Northern Highways. It might be because of
the winters, either animals spend more time curled up somewhere or their
corpses are pleasantly hidden from view in a snowbank. And on the matter of
deer carcasses, I’ve often wondered if they had been hit by a passing motorist,
or if the bodies had fallen out of the back of some careless hunter’s pickup.
Had I really committed a sin? I didn’t
do it on purpose. Legally speaking the slob behind the wheel bears
responsibility for the collision. Even if the pedestrian was blind, stinking
drunk, and suicidal, the impetus was on me to make restitution, to do penance,
to pay the piper. Despite me following every precaution, I was responsible for the
smeared corpse on the highway. What happened to the no-fault accident? What
happened to personal responsibility? What happened to an act of God?
Well screw that! I am declaring an
emancipation for all of us. You are forgiven for past roadkill. You are pre-emptively
exonerated for all highway carnage that flings itself upon you. From now on
when some pigeon or squirrel or possum throws itself under your wheels, we are
not to blame! We must never feel guilty for it any more. I absolve you, I
forgive myself, and I damn them. It’s about time these stinking beasts learn to
look both ways before crossing the fucking street!
Have
you ever wondered about the wedding at Cana? The one Heyzeus and his boys
crashed around 31 CE. The actual location of Cana, if there ever was one, is
unknown. It may have been any one of a dozen little villages in Galilee, or it
may have been lost to time, or it may have been completely fictitious.
Reflect upon it for a moment and I
will set up the scene. Heyzeus and the boys are hanging out at a wedding party
in the town of Cana. The party then runs out of wine. His mother runs up to him
and says, “They have no wine.” And Heyzeus snarkily replies (I assume that he
had had a few, so it’s excusable), “Oh woman, what had this to do with me? My
hour is not yet come.” Meaning don’t bother him, it wasn't time to be nailed to a
cross yet.
He then relents to his Jewish
mother’s nagging and then orders the servants to fill the wine containers with
water and then draw it out again. The servants pour out wine and take it to the
head waiter, who tastes it and claims that it was the best served all evening. This
miracle is regarded as the first sign among his followers that Heyzeus is the
messiah and is walking the road to an impending crucifixion.
I’m going to ignore the fact that it
sounds like he just mixed water with the sediment collected at the bottom of
the gourds and produced a light version of the vintage. Additionally I’m going
to put aside that this story is not written aboutin any of the synoptic gospels, only making
an appearance in John, which was written much later than the other three - about
the second century CE. This act has always struck me as a very odd miracle. It doesn’t
really show off much of a compassionate nature or intent- as does the other
miracles. It doesn’t involve bringing people back from the dead or curing them
of leprosy. It’s not even on par with the feeding of the multitudes, because
that was a very public forum and regarded people’s very real need to eat. It
was a show of generosity.
The Wedding at Cana comes across as
more of a drunken frat trick. “Hey look at me turn water into wine dudes, it’s
fucking awesome. Party!” What is the point of it? Is there one, besides him
looking cool at a party? Granted I’ve often found this miracle useful is
justifying my alcoholism to Christian types, but it serves no real purpose. The
Wedding at Cana is the miraculous equivalent of going for a beer run.
Personally I feel that it was thrown
into John from a different gospel attributed to a different messiah (there were
several other contenders for the position at the time swimming around in Judea),
or perhaps from a different religion entirely, maybe a Bacchanalian cult.
But why staple this new miracle in?
What was wrong with the one listed. The answer is simple and deals with
numerology. There weren’t enough miracles already listed. John added one in
order to reach seven. In ancient numerology, including Kabbalist lore, the
number seven represents completeness and perfection in both a spiritual and physical
sense. As opposed to the number six, which mankind, human weakness, and the
manifestation of the Adversary. Thus man was created on the 6th day
and given six days of labor. God and Heyzeus are one better, Man +1.
The writers of the Gospel of John needed
an extra miracle in order to prop up their notions of Heyzeus’s messianic claim.
Thus we have the Wedding at Cana. So
sayeth the word of Rex Hurst! For more fun try books by Rex Hurst
The Madison-Felix Awards was an awards show in Buffalo New York, which ran from 1995-2005. It was put together by my friend Big Brian and I. In reality it was a parody of an awards show mixed with an open bar drinking contest. Still it was fun and irreverent and some of the best parties I've ever had. But like all good times, they eventually drifted off to the land of nostalgia. The next several blogs are dedicated to their memory.
Unfortunately we have come to an end in our reflections of the great show. There's not much more to tell, we scoured every nook and cranny , but I couldn't leave without one final word. A
person may ask, as I sometimes am, what set the Madison-Felix’s apart? True it
wasn’t a “real” awards show. Legally speaking it was a private party. Everyone
who came was specially invited- except for one year when a series of old people
kept blundering in asking if we were showing Metropolis.
Our
first difference is not giving awards to films which had been released that
year. We felt we had 90 years of films to catch up on, so our nominees ran the
gambit from the recent to the cinematic stone age of silent films (BTW everyone
should take another look at the old pre-Hays code silent. There was plenty of
discussion of drug use, alcoholism, homosexuality and heterosexuality. On par
with modern films). Our initial intent with the Madison-Felix’s was to show
only good films and opening the range allowed us to display as many as we
wanted. But as with all things that Big Brian and I tried it degenerated
quickly.
A
little anecdote here- Big Brian and I had tried something similar before. Four
of us, Myself, Big Brian, Jeff Death (RIP), and Dr. I (a madman of a different
stripe) had all left the cast of the Rocky Horror Picture Show. We then founded
the Dashwood Society and vowed that we would, instead of Rocky Horror, on
Friday nights, watch the greatest films of all time like the sophisticated individuals
that we were.
That
lasted two weeks. From there we quickly descended into series of low grade
slashed flicks (where we discovered the glory that is The Love Butcher- The Citizen Kane of Crap), then pornography, then
oddball subsects of porn such as bestiality and coprophagia clips- which was
damn difficult to find in the pre-internet days.
The
Madison-Felix’s went the same way. By the third year we wanted to show off as
much weird, disgusting, offbeat material as we could lay our hands on. Now, we
were never sure who would win as we did have people vote on it. Yes it was legitimate,
but Big Brain and I were the ones who chose the nominees and often we would “guide”
the voters to a specific choice by padding the nominations with items that they
would dislike. Sometimes that worked, others time it didn't. The Madison-Felixs' were a cheap joke that bloomed into the best party of the year. For all of us involved, it was never about the show by itself. It was a party. It was about showing off. It was about reconnecting with people you might never see again. It gave everyone a chance to perform and be the center of attention. In a strange way The Madison-Felix's were a show without an audience, because everyone was involved with the performance. Whether it was a speech or skit before giving away an award, reciting a bit of poetry or a story, or just general cat calling, everyone played a part in the show. Everyone added to everyone else's enjoyment. Everyone made it special. Big Brian and I mad have stuck the match, but everyone lit a torch from it, spreading the flame wide. The show was cheap and grungy at times, but that added to its charm. Will it be remembered by people beyond this generation? No. It will be lost the mash of history along with the other awards and festivals that recorded history has abandoned. But it is still alive in our hearts and memories for decades to come. It was our show. Done for us, by us. And that's something we will never lose. For everyone who came, for everyone who said their piece, The Madison-Felixs' were as much your show as it was mine. Thank you, relax and enjoy. We all made it great and we all deserve applause. Free beer!
The Madison-Felix Awards was an awards show in Buffalo New York, which ran from 1995-2005. It was put together by my friend Big Brian and I. In reality it was a parody of an awards show mixed with an open bar drinking contest. Still it was fun and irreverent and some of the best parties I've ever had. But like all good times, they eventually drifted off to the land of nostalgia. This and the next blog are dedicated to their memory.
We now have a late entry into our guest commentary selections. Tony House has finally put finger to keyboard and unleashed his memories upon us. This will be the last commentary blog and the second to last Madison-Felix blog.
Memories of the Madisons
Well,
for whatever reason my memory is a little hazy on this.
What does come to mind is that I
was at 9 of the 10 Madisons. I wasn't at the first one. I don't recall if Dan
invited me to the second one or if I had overheard him talking about it and
asked to be invited. In any case I wasn't exactly sure what to make of it that
first year going. While I knew Dan, uh Rex, - oh hell, Rex= Dan and Dan=Rex -
whomever it was, I didn't know all of the people Rex knew. He met some at Buff
State, some from Rocky Horror and I'm assuming some from the house on Comstock.
I lived three blocks away and didn't know he was there (but that has nothing to
do with this story.)
Anyways, I remember actually
wearing a suit to the Madisons. It gave it a sense of elegance.
Now comes the part where I'm mixing
all the years into one thing.
Walking into the Screening Room,
Rex was there greeting people and immediately tasking people with presentation
duties. There was also someone handing out ribbons of different colors each of
which had some different meaning.
There was one year when Michael
Jackson was in the news for the whole kiddie touching thing. Rex asked everyone
presenting to give their best Michael Jackson joke.
I kept bringing a friend of mine,
Pat. He really didn't know what to make of the whole thing but that was ok.
Charlene mentioned the sterno can
thing. When Char found me on Facebook at the end of 2008 she asked if I was
Sterno Can Tony. I had no idea what she was talking about so I had her tell me
the story she presented here. I have a vague memory of doing that. I'd still like
to see the video for the full memory.
And finally, the following, which I
added as a comment to an earlier posting but figure I'd re-add it here:
Brief addition to the "Free
Beer" thing with respect to videos watched.
I vaguely remember the Brutes and Savages
montage. The first time it was shown, it was much later in the show. Or to
phrase it a little differently, I had consumed more free beer. So what I was
watching had a very surreal, bizarre quality to the whole thing, and thus,
funny as hell. I seem to remember laughing hysterically as many others were
too. I seem to also remember there were a few people disgusted by what was on
the screen. At that point though with what we had been watching, those people
shouldn't have been there.
So the following year, when the
scene was shown again, it was much earlier and I hadn't consumed quite as much
beer. Due to this unfortunate circumstance I was not in quite the same frame of
mind when watching the Peruvian people (or whichever South American
civilization they were claiming to be) express their physical love to their
beloved pack animals. Thus my reaction was a little less than enthusiastic the
second time around. I think Rex might have said something about being drunker
previously. Oh well.
The Madison-Felix Awards was an awards show in Buffalo New York, which ran from 1995-2005. It was put together by my friend Big Brian and I. In reality it was a parody of an awards show mixed with an open bar drinking contest. Still it was fun and irreverent and some of the best parties I've ever had. But like all good times, they eventually drifted off to the land of nostalgia. This and the next blog are dedicated to their memory.
These next two weeks are given over to the reflections of others who have attendedthe Madison -Felixs' in the past. Special thanks to Charlene Shotwell, Kevin "Monkeyhead" Young, Sean Burns, and Aaron "Psycho" Thies.
The Madisons:
An Awards Show Like No Other
“Back where we started… Here we go ‘round
again…” The theme song that kicked off the Madison Awards plays over the
speakers. Emerging from the coat room is the MC of the evening, Brian Young,
wearing his staple black beret.A (free)
beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other.
A quick scan of the room shows an age range
not seen in many environments. From 21 to 81, I believe each age has been
represented in the audience (either by choice or by chance). The choice is from
friends and family of the organizers of the formerly annual event, Brian Young
and the Rev. Rex Hurst. The chance came from an un-expecting octogenarian
couple who stumbled into the Screening Room hoping to watch Metropolis.
A brief history of the Madison Awards tells
the story of Brian and Rex who own, what I refer to as, the biggest collection
of shitty films that nobody wants to see. They wanted to provide alternate
entertainment to their friends due to the Oscars becoming such a horrible shell
of what an awards show should be.While
there was the usual Best Picture award, there were additional categories that
always should have been awards. These
include, but are not limited to, Most Annoying Use of a Child in a Film and
Best Comedic Performance in a Non-Comedic Role.
The highlight of each year was the Lifetime
Achievement award.The winners had a
montage of their “highlight” reel set to a carefully selected piece of music.
Past winners include Don Knotts – She’s Got The Look, Alan Hale Jr – I’m Too Sexy For My Shirt and Charles Bronson
– I Think I Love You. However,
nothing could top the year everyone’s favorite quadriplegic Christopher Reeve
was saluted with a wonderful rendition of Walk
Like a Man.
The most endearing part of the show was that
each member of the audience got to come up and present the awards for the
movies and actors. It granted everyone the chance to add their own little piece
to the history of the Madison Awards. No greater impression was left on the
crowd than Farmer Jeff Faulker with his love poem, Ode To Knockers.
The show started out as an opportunity to get
some friends together, have a good time and drink some beer. What the event
grew to become was a wonderful, spontaneous and unforgettable experience that
those lucky enough to be in attendance will always cherish. I know I do.
Kevin
Young (Monkeyhead)
It Was There
I was
really just a guest, stepping into a group of your friends and only knowing you
& Tony House. I did bring Jim Ludwig one year, and I recommended it to my
friend Vince Burke who went on a year I cancelled. My memories are of the cries
of “Free Beer!”, a raunchy poem about tits being read, a string of horrible
movie clips, a racist Bugs Bunny cartoon, and then a box of shit from somebody's attic being handed out as prizes.
Sean Burns
Bread and Circuses
Keep
your friends close and your enemies closer. This sums up my relationship with
Rex. His antics where a grab bag of juvenile, hilarious, unbelievable, and
horrifying. I felt it my responsibility to provide the world a warning as to
his activities.
Until
recent times, Rex has sickened me more than he has drawn my admiration. Only
twice have I admired his efforts. Once was when he lost significant weight.
Turns out he was sick, and couldn't keep anything down but carrots. The other
was The Madisons.
I'll
admit that I was extremely hesitant to attend the first Madisons. Rex is like a
precocious juvenile, but throw in Brian, and targeted anarchy is ensured. My
mind ran amok with what "films" would be showcased. I forwent
imagining the specific title, and went straight for the attendee reactions.
Vile, putrid, and plain stupid immediately held sway. While all of these proved
true, the unholy event produced a miraculous result. In no small part to the
now notorious "FREE BEER" everyone greatly enjoyed themselves. The
crowd was "select" in comparison to later events, but was no less
diverse. Friends, morons, dates, and moms where equally blessed.
A
few years into the Madisons a lucky few (among which I could count myself)
where given the opportunity to vote on the nominees. It was an arduous task to
almost randomly select the winners from the lists of unknown titles. The
blessing was that the title held all you needed to know.
There
was often a scramble as people arrived, hounding Rex for what award they wanted
to present. Some people where born to present certain awards. Case in point,
Rob presenting the Alan Ormsby Overacting Achievement Award so he had an excuse
to rip off his glasses and deliver that classic line:
Perhaps
to your surprise, the Madisons required formal attire. Everyone was well
adorned, except for that one guy who wore the t-shirt with a tux printed on it.
Douche. Anyhow, this shocked newcomers and added to the feeling of an
unsupervised junior prom with a hidden keg in the back.
One
thing I greatly looked forward to with each Madisons was the people. You
mingled with people you saw no other time of the year. You'd be surprised as a
new long lost or old high school friend materialized. As with any gathering of
a certain size, there were cliques. Each gathered about their own clump of
tables. But, unlike other events, all cliques were wholly united. When anyone
presented an award everyone called out their name in raucous joy. If you didn't
know the person, you paused half a beat to learn the name, then joined in the
cheer. You felt like you knew the whole room. Those popular in high school, and
those who were clearly not, all corralled together in harmony and "FREE
BEER".
The
Madisons occasionally served as a counselor. Relationships began and ended
during the event. More than a couple new significant others were delighted to
attend a formal event, only to feel it was drastically misrepresented. Some were
horrified. Some punted their relationship after. For myself, I brought my new
girlfriend (now wife) to the final Madisons. Luckily for me she stuck around.
An
unexpected delight was the intermission buffet line. Set in another room, which
was actually illuminated, the line moved slowly as everyone conversed with
everyone else. This produced the only sluggish line that was not maddening.
Door
prizes were a crowd favorite, albeit the ceremony of giving them out often
carried on a little too long, as by now the "FREE BEER" was closed
and everyone was making plans to make for a bar.
I've
condemned far more of Rex's activities than I've ever condoned, but for once he
focused on something good. The result was something legendary. My biggest
regret is the one year I missed the Madisons. They are the closest you will
come to experiencing the spectacle of the Roman Colosseum.
-Aaron Thies
SOME OF MY RANDOM MEMORABLE MOMENTS OF THE MADISONS
I
was flattered and a little humbled when Rex asked me to write up my memories of
The Madison Awards. I was more of a peripheral character, a supporting cast
member, on the outskirts of the main group who ran the show. But I remember
those events fondly nonetheless. And being a movie theme here, ya gotta hand it
to those peripheral characters. Looking back at 40, I have to say The Madison
Awards ceremonies were an amazing part of our collective friend experiences in
the ‘90s. They were insane, creative, and always a mind blowing good time
• BAD OUTFITS: Ah, I remember my first Madison’s outfit, a late ‘90s tight
black bodysuit and a black shiny “broomstick skirt” as they called them back in
the day. Never will be thin enough to wear that again. I also recall scouring
the thrift stores to find ensembles to wear to the following years’ awards. I
once found an old red and black velvet prom dress at some Salvation Army in the
ghetto and ironed it out and wore it with opera gloves and a fake Holly Go
Lightly hairdo. But as an adult woman whose body has now seen the effect of age
and childbirth and breastfeeding, I remember fondly rocking my black leather
corset vest with a push up bra to one of the awards shows. Ah yes, I had “the
girls” on display that year and it inspired several off color comments from the
men. But hey, you’re only young with perky boobs once.
• BAD DATES: I had several bad dates to The Madisons, as I’m sure we all did. I
could go into more detail here. But I won’t. Plus some of them have found their
ways onto my Facebook friends list so I will just keep my mouth shut and move
on.
• THE FREE BEER SONG: Rex and I used to make each other mix tapes, and I once
made one called “Ditties for Dan.” That tape had the most awful and
delightfully crappy songs, and Rex and I would sing along to them while driving
around together in our ‘90s slacker years. Some of those songs included
“Boogie” by John Hartford, which is a song that sounds like it is sung a man
with emphysema, prostate issues, and bad gas pleasuring himself to thoughts of
his love, with whom he only wants to “boogie.”
“Oh No Darling” by T Bone Burnett was another great one for blasting while
driving around in Dan’s mom’s mini-van.
“Lookin’ For Money” by The Chicken Chokers was also a good fit, as Rex and I
would often be broke and spotting each other for enough extra cash to get the
“Working Man’s Special” at Anacone’s or perhaps a cheap pint of whatever was on
tap at Bobby McGee’s.
…Anyway, I came across a song called “Free Beer” by a band called “Da Yoopers.”
“Yooper” is a term for a resident of the Upper Michigan Peninsula, and being a
Great Lakes city they have similarly awful accents as people from Buffalo do,
but mixed with a bit of a “take off, hoser” pseudo Canadian lilt. The “Free
Beer” motto was already a theme for The Madisons and it fit nicely.
One
of the more controversial films ever made, it is based on The Devils of Loudon by
Aldous Huxley, published in 1952. The book itself is based upon actual events
in the French city of Loudon in the early 17th century. In it, accusations
are made against Urbain Grandier, an outspoken Catholic Monseigneur, who is
accused by the local order of cloistered nuns of witchcraft and trafficking with
the devil. This is parlayed by Cardinal Richelieu (the go-to villain of French period
pieces) into a political struggle to demolish the city’s walls, the last metropolis
in France to retain such fortifications. This is a move which Grandier
vigorously opposes and which results in him being burnt at the stake. 
Oliver
Reed plays the lead, Urbain Grandier, in a more restrained manner than his usual
scenery chewing style, but is still able to express incredible intensity even
when absolutely still. He and Ken Russell worked well together on several
projects. So well in fact that Russell cast Reed in a leading role on his next
film Tommy, a musical, despite the
fact that Reed couldn’t sing. While Reed eventually gained a reputation
(deserved or not) of being an abusive alcoholic jerk- or just being a standard
Englishman- and was reduced to making terrible TV movies, before dying on the
set of Gladiator, The Devils was shot when Reed was at the
high point in his acting prowess, and it shows. The final scene, when we learn Grandier's fate, is perhaps one of his finest performances. 
Playing
opposite him is Vanessa Redgrave as a hunchbacked abbess of a convent of
cloistered nuns, Sister Jeanne. She develops a lust for Reed’s character and
when it is not returned, she leads the charge against Grandier, accusing him of
canoodling with the devil and causing her and her fellow nuns to be possessed. Her
character mainly conveys hysterical tendencies and sexual frustration with
which she gives a no-hold-barred performance, managing to standout in a film
that is already over the top. Her character’s fantasy scenes (most of which
were originally cut) contain much religious iconography with some not-at-all
subtle sexual innuendo and what really gave the film its reputation. 
Russell,
as always, manages to do more with less. This was a fairly low budget film, but
you would never know it from the richness of the atmosphere, the costumes, and
the pseudo-decadence of pre-revolutionary France. The sets were modeled after
Fritz Lang’s Metropolis and were
crafted to give the possessed nun scenes an alien quality, which distorts the
reality of the situation. Russell often juxtaposes the nun’s writhing and other
bizarre antics with scenes and peace and beauty. This comes is especially effective
in one scene where Reed is performing the sacrament of communion by a peaceful
river, interspersed with scenes of the nuns running riot in a cathedral. 
The Devils initially received very mixed
reviews and some very strong emotions due to its sexual and religious content. Some
called it “a grand fiesta for sadists and perverts” while others claimed it was
Russell’s “most brilliant cinematic achievement.” But no one ever states that
it is a boring film. The possessed nun scenes are its most notable part, and
the cause for its acclaim and X rating in both America and Britain- dooming it
at the box office. The controversy has
stuck with the film over the decades. So much so that the parent company
(Warner Brothers) refused to release it on DVD, even after film critic Mark
Kermode discovered 20 minutes of missing footage (including the infamous “rape
of Christ scene”) which would guarantee sales amongst fans. Eventually Warner
Brothers relented, but only after a lengthy online petition and with a very
limited run.
The
new edition of The Devils is still edited
and censored from the original cut. To get past the X rating (NC-17 for you
millennials) all of the male nudity had to be cut (a flapping penis is only
acceptable if the character is blue apparently) and much of the full frontal
variety from the cathedral scenes, a more grotesque version of the enema from the
first exorcism attempt, a few frames of Grandier’s legs being crushed, and some
overdubbing of the nuns yelling “cunt” and “fuck me.” But a lot has been added
to make The Devils a much more
striking film than it was before. 
