Broomsticks and All That: Night of the Demon (1957)

One of the many things I love about this late 50s shocker is how unapologetic it is about its belief in demonology and the supernatural. Dr. Holden may not believe in witchcraft, but the film – and all the other characters in it – do. Right from the beginning, a somber voice over tells us, “It has been written since the beginning of time, even unto these ancient stones, that evil supernatural creatures exist in a world of darkness. And it is also said man using the magic power of the ancient runic symbols can call forth these powers of darkness, the demons of Hell.” 

Intrepid psychologist John Holden (the stoic Dana Andrews) travels in England to attend a convention investigating international reports of paranormal psychology, with plans to debunk the Karswell Devil Cult as the product of mass psychosis. Upon his arrival he learns that one of his British compatriots, Professor Harrington, has met a grisly end by being electrocuted when his car crashes into a telephone pole. What the audience knows from the beginning is that Harrington was pursued to his death by a monstrous fire demon, summoned by satanic madman Julian Karswell via a pesky parchment scribed with runic symbols, a parchment that seems to have a mind of its own, bringing terror and death to every hand it touches. Night of the Demon was quite daring in its day, presenting lurid elements of devil worship and demonology to international audiences.

Thanks to outstanding black and white cinematography and the direction of Jacques Tourneur who filmed the Val Lewton classics Cat People and I Walked with a Zombie, Night of the Demon builds suspense through a series of brilliantly staged sequences that thrill simply through the power of suggestion alone – menacing hallways, a trip to misty Stonehenge, drawing room séances and hypnotic trances – and our hero’s pursuit by an unseen force through the forest surrounding Karswell Hall. As if the plot isn’t heady enough with its talk of devil cults, fire demons, “broomsticks and all that”, the soundtrack music is deliciously bombastic 50s horror movie cheese – crank it up loud enough and your neighbors will wonder what kind of devil’s business you’re up to.

Some detractors of the movie say its downfall is the full frontal viewing of the demon itself. It’s a garish, stop-motion puppet not unlike the beasts Ray Harryhausen modeled for the old Sinbad movies. There are varying accounts of whether Tourneur planned to include the demon all along, or if he was forced by the studio against his well. But to those who say its appearance is corny and ruins the film I would like to point out the rubber dummy in The Exorcist that cranks its head around and plays hide and go seek with a crucifix. For my money, the only downfall of the movie is the rather wooden performance of Dana Andrews as John Holden. Andrews’s brand of stoic American hero doesn’t merge well with the outstanding performances of the otherwise all-British cast. But even if someone of Charlton Heston’s caliber had played the role, the incongruous effect would probably have been much the same.

I don’t remember seeing this one when I was a kid, but I picked up a VHS copy in a video bargain bin in the early 80s, one complete with an artist’s full color rendition of the fire demon, thinking I was in for some silly bit of ‘50s schlock. Night of the Demon has been a favorite ever since. It is still readily available on DVD in two versions, the original 95 minute British version, and the slightly cut 82 minute American release print under the title Curse of the Demon. Either way, you’re in for a hell of a good time!

Yawn of the Devil: Eye of the Devil (1966)

The reputation of Eye of the Devil came to me via books on classic horror movies years before I saw the movie. To my knowledge it was never released on VHS, and it was not until TCM acquired the rights to MGM’s film library that it began to show up on cable TV in the wee hours of the morning, usually as part of a David Niven or Deborah Kerr film festival. A DVD format was not available until a few years ago as part of the Warner’s Manufacture on Demand collection

Eye of the Devil is purportedly an occult shocker complete with witches, warlocks, and human sacrifice. Add to the subject matter the presence of the beguiling Sharon Tate who was to be killed several years later by the Manson cult, and you’ve got a film ripe for a bad reputation. The DVD slipcase cover featuring the original poster art trumpets the tag-line, “This is the climax in mind-chilling terror.” Too bad the film doesn’t make good on that promise.

Depending on your tolerance for moldy oldies like Eye of the Devil, film fans seem to love it or hate it. I love the black and white cinematography, the constantly moving camera, and rapid fire edits. I love looking at Sharon Tate, sinister and seductive with her blond hair and black turtlenecks. I love the grim, joyless faces of British cinema royalty – Flora Robson, Edward Mulhare, Donald Pleasence, and David Niven – but I can’t say the same for Deborah Kerr. She enters the plot as an emotionally overwrought housewife with a nervous tremor in her voice and within ten minutes of screen time her performance accelerates to a fever pitch. Kerr is not entirely to blame. The majority of film footage was shot with Kim Novak in the role of Catherine de Montfaucon. Novak was thrown from a horse while filming the scene where Catherine visits the family crypt in the forest. Kerr was her replacement. All footage with Novak was reshot, leaving Kerr little time to create a nuanced performance.

Eye of the Devil, originally titled 13, came from an uninspired Gothic horror novel by Phillip Loraine, Day of the Arrow – which would have made a better title for the movie. I guess have issues with a Gothic horror film with the Devil in the title but not in the actual story line.

Paperback reprint cover art by Lou Marchetti

The plot follows the standard template, but it’s more a tepid exercise in slow-burn Gothic suspense than full blown occult horror. Phillippe (Niven), the Marquise de Montfaucon, is called home to the ancestral chateau, Bellenac, deep in French vineyard country. It seems the crops have failed, and Phillippe has an obligation to fulfill.  His wife, Catherine, ignores his warning for her to remain in Paris, packs up the kiddies and arrives at Bellenac in time to scamper around like a nervous kitten wondering what all the fuss is about. It’s pretty obvious from the get-go – obvious to everyone except Catherine.  Catherine whimpers and whines but all that Phillippe and the rest of the relatives and morose family retainers will say is, “You don’t understand.”

The idea of human sacrifice to ensure the abundance of the crop has been done better, and in more horrifying manner, in tales such as The Wicker Man and (The Dark Secret of) Harvest Home. Eye of the Devil presents its occult “shocks” rather timidly. Odile de Cary (Sharon Tate) and her brother Christian de Cary (David Hemmings) are some sort of witch and warlock brother/sister act who serve little purpose other than to stand around looking blond and pretty; hooded figures stalk our perpetually frightened heroine, voices chant in Latin…there’s even a mad relative locked away in a tower who only confirms what the audience has figured out well ahead of time.

From the looks of the film and the all-star cast, it seems MGM was intent on making a classy thriller, but the whole thing is too tame to be horrifying. Imagine how diabolical and lurid the film could have been if Roger Corman had been behind the camera.

But it rocks the Gothic eye-candy scale, and earns its place in the Midnight Room.

Dumber of the Beast: The Mephisto Waltz by Fred Mustard Stewart

Here’s another “classic” piece of late 60s quasi-Satanic hooey, Fred Mustard Stewart’s debut novel, The Mephisto Waltz. Just look at the reviews on the cover of the 1970 Signet paperback:

A gripping ride into a world of Satanism and Black Magic… impossible to put down. – Saturday Review

Mr. Stewart weaves his eerie plot with diabolical skill. The Mephisto Waltz is a must for every addict of the Satanic and the supernatural. – New York Times Book Review

A Bizarre, unique, and diabolical tale involving sorcery, Satanism, and transmigration of the soul… a devilishly powerful spellbinder. – Houston Chronicle

The delightful horror and the Satanic elements of Rosemary’s Baby, with the suspense carried on a more sinuously fluid prose. - Library Journal

Sinuously fluid prose? I don’t think so. And please, don’t imply it’s better than Rosemary’s Baby. Ira Levin writes with sinuously fluid prose. Fred Mustard Stewart does not. And any suspense is killed at the end of the first act when the author flat out tells the reader the whole business is about the aforementioned transmigration of the soul right down to the Satanic “ritual”. The rest of the book follows the heroine trying to catch up. Stewart also has little skill in the character department. Miles and Paula Clarkson are about as bland as they come, presenting nothing with which the reader can relate. Oh yeah, my husband is involved with a group of Satanists – I can relate to that.

In case you haven’t seen the clunky movie with Alan Alda, Jacqueline Bisset, Barbara Parkins, and Curt Jergens as the menacing Duncan Ely, the story goes something like this:

Journalist Miles scores an interview with the aging concert pianist, Duncan Ely who immediately takes a fatherly interest in Miles’ own failed career on the concert circus. Next thing you know, Duncan and his lover…ahem, I mean daughter… whip out a bottle of Satanic oil and start mumbo jumboing in Latin and, voila, Paula has a feeling her husband ain’t her husband any more. Stewart throws in the usual business: murdered ex-wives, dead babies, a black dog, the Old Religion reinvented as Satanism, and a mysterious Man in a Bowler Hat.

Stewart scores a few points in the research department. He at least knows his stuff when it comes to the piano and piano music, describing the “sound” of the titular waltz. Late in the book, Paula browses Ely’s library of Satanic tomes and Stewart lists a catalog of essential titles in the Black Magic oeuvre, everything from Malleus Maleficarum to Discourse of the Subtill Practices of Devilles.

If you’re into this sort of Satanic silliness, The Mephisto Waltz can be a fun, two-night read, although it left this reviewer wanting much more. If you only ninety minutes or so to spare, check out the movie. It’s just as bad.