"At that moment the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. The earth shook, and the rocks were split." - Matthew 27:51 (NRSV)
Just about everything that could be said about Ken Russell's "The Devils" has been said. Make a film that manages to be just as controversial 55 years later and it's bound to have a lot of ink spilled about it. Still, having seen it a decade ago, and again (restored and uncut) two nights ago, I thought I'd put to 'paper' my scattered thoughts.
Synopsis
Firstly, for the unfamiliar (and I was amazed to see people go to the screening with no prior knowledge of it), "The Devils" is based on a play by John Whiting and book by Alduous Huxley, both in turn following the historic accounts of the Loudun possessions in 1630s France. Russell's film - what wasn't left on the edit room floor - is sometimes called the most censored film in history, and material necessary for the director's cut were considered squirreled away or destroyed and thus lost media. If it weren't for the obsession of Mark Kermode, who managed to track down missing film reels, Russell's vision may have truly wasted away in the back of the Warner Brothers' archives.
The film tracks, in a way, two contrasting spiritual journeys: Urban Grandier is a priest who knows his way around temptation a bit too well, and Sister Jeanne the austere Ursuline nun who rejects all sensual delights. Unbeknownst to Grandier, their paths intersect early on, when she spies him leading a funeral procession; this in turn leads to an obsession in her she eventually names as spiritual possession.
Claiming that Grandier has demonically possessed her (likely cynically as retribution for his behaviour detailed a few paragraphs down) has further implications than she realises. While she experiences her spirit becoming overwhelmed with the sensual delights she had claimed to reject, a much larger story is playing out involving the French political state and Catholic Church. Cardinal Richelieu, serving as an advisor to Louis XIII, argues that the provincial towns need their fortifications torn down to further the killing and expulsion of Hugenots (Protestants). Loudun is a prime target, and would have had its defences blown up had it not been for ... Grandier.
So when Sister Jeanne's accusations make their way to the French body politic, it becomes a convenient accusation to charge at Grandier. The nuns of the order are roped in, and what follows is an orgiastic performance of demonic possession, four minutes of which was considered too blasphemous for public viewing.
Meanwhile, Grandier is going through his own change: rejecting the twin extremes of licentiousness and celibacy, he marries a woman in secret, and appears to re-experience his faith with an even greater understanding of love, compassion and sacrifice.
Unfortunately the wheels of the state had already been lubricated with the hypocrisy of religious actors, and his fate is sealed while he is away petitioning the king to preserve the walls. He is tried, found guilty and burned at the stake. The walls he fought so hard for, and implored his flock to protect, are destroyed, and the state exit the scene acknowledging that "soon the town will die, and you will be left in peace ... and oblivion."
(One quick digression)
I have left a lot out of this synopsis. I wanted for my contribution to the exploration of the themes to focus on Grandier and Jeanne's twin journeys. There is a great deal more political machinations, and the compromise religions do with the state, thinking they will guarantee their security when in fact they lose not only security but dignity as well.
Thoughts about 'a' theme
I watched the restored version on Tuesday 3 November. This coincided with the US mid-term elections, when voters sought to repudiate President Trump's policies and comportment in office. Watching the nuns and clerics prostrate themselves before the state, and ultimately bear the consequences Grandier predicted, felt akin to the pastors of mega-churches that have laid hands on Trump and spoken of him as a messiah.
I have seen religious conservatives tie themselves in knots (from my vantage), justifying this behaviour. Comparisons to King David are often used: the flawed king who had a relationship with God. I have a hard time seeing it as anything other than cynical ambition. I can understand the argument that 1) we are all flawed, and 2) God's will may come from unlikely sources. But David understood his flaws, and saw the consequences of his actions play out before his eyes. This sense of responsibility seems lacking in political and religious leaders in that camp.
"Call me vain, and proud, the greatest sinner to ever walk the earth. But Satan's boy I could never be - I haven't the humility. I know what I have sown, and I am prepared for what I shall reap." (Oliver Reed as Urban Grandier)
Following the election, there have been some writing about an energised religious liberal conviction; one that sees religions' imperatives to counter poverty, feed the hungry, clothe the naked, seek resolution to enmity, and act as peacemakers.
We see these contrasting relationships between church and state in the film: When speaking with his future wife, Grandier admonishes the Ursuline sect for praying behind convent walls rather than administering care to the plague victims.
Thoughts about the film
I came to the screening having seen The Devils a decade ago. The version I had seen was the UK cut, which was the most intact. The added material (about 3 or so minutes) doesn't change the intention or message of the film, but puts an exclamation point on the film's most notorious scene. This heightens the contrast with Grandier's self-discovery, and I can understand Russell's frustration at its exclusion.
Seeing it in a surprisingly full-ish theatre (this was on a Tuesday early afternoon), where people can witness and share their emotions, was awakening. There are punctuations of humour, and having these momentary breaks in the unfolding tragedy made a significant difference for me. In my private viewing, I don't remember allowing myself to laugh at Oliver Reed throwing a crocodile at a man.
It is Russell's best film, with a structure and flow that moves naturally between contrasting scenes and intersperses dream amongst reality. Nearly every cell could be a framed piece of art. I had forgotten as well that the music was by Peter Maxwell Davies at his most bombastic, which contributes a frenetic energy and adds considerably to the discomfort of the story.
It is a near-perfect film; people often cite Oliver Reed and Vanessa Redgrave's performances, but the casting, direction and acting brings a naturalness to every role. The fact the film was not better received or well reviewed in its day is mind-boggling, although Oliver Reed noted afterwards that the film deals with bigotry and was made to show bigotry in all its ugliness, and that did not play well in American markets.
Postlude
Seeing the destruction of the walls happening immediately after Grandier has died brought to mind the initial quotation from Matthew. When people - often flawed, but of honest faith - are scapegoated, there are larger forces at play. Three things are lost when faith becomes subservient to the state: Dignity, for faiths' hypocrisy and ambition are laid naked before the public; security (or perhaps agency), as this binds one to the whims and moral wanderings of another; and self-hood, as one begins to lose sight of their own identity and moral convictions.