The Devils is one of the most controversial films ever made. British director Ken Russell was forced to cut and censor several scenes to achieve an X-rated release, and parts of the footage have still never been approved for distribution.
On paper, the film is simple: a dramatised historical account of the fall of Roman Catholic priest Urbain Grandier in 17th-century France, set within a city that succumbs to hysteria and corruption. However, this story is presented through a distorted horror lens, defined by frantic pacing, intrusive camerawork, and a discordant soundtrack. The heart of the film’s controversy lies in its graphic sex and violence. The issue is not the nudity itself (at times comparable to the explicitness of Caligula), but the fact that much of it originates from sexually repressed nuns, whose fantasies manifest as the city descends into delirium and their mental stability begins to fracture. We see masturbation, group sex, and an infamous desecration of a statue of Jesus (since banned). While depictions of female desire were rare in contemporary cinema, presenting them through nuns pushed the film far beyond accepted boundaries.
Looking beyond the controversy, The Devils deserves recognition as a highly stylised and technically accomplished film. Its costume design, set construction, cinematography, and sound design combine to create a visceral, inescapable atmosphere of horror. The film is relentless in its energy, with Russell’s handheld close-up camerawork heightening the sense of chaos. The result is both dizzying and immersive, reinforcing themes of mass hysteria and psychological collapse. This is further amplified by a jagged, discordant score that offers little respite.
It is difficult to fully capture the impact of The Devils (1971). It stands as one of the most controversial, beautiful, and disturbing works of cinema, and remains entirely unique. The scale of its production design is remarkable, its visual style feels pioneering, and the performances from Oliver Reed and Vanessa Redgrave are compelling throughout. The film continues to provoke discussion around censorship and religious representation, while also functioning as a deeply political work, with Urbain’s demise symbolising the triumph of institutional corruption over individual conscience. Regardless of perspective, it is a once-in-a-lifetime viewing experience that lingers long after it ends. 4.5/5
The Devils is one of the most controversial films ever made. British director Ken Russell was forced to cut and censor several scenes to achieve an X-rated release, and parts of the footage have still never been approved for distribution.
On paper, the film is simple: a dramatised historical account of the fall of Roman Catholic priest Urbain Grandier in 17th-century France, set within a city that succumbs to hysteria and corruption. However, this story is presented through a distorted horror lens, defined by frantic pacing, intrusive camerawork, and a discordant soundtrack. The heart of the film’s controversy lies in its graphic sex and violence. The issue is not the nudity itself (at times comparable to the explicitness of Caligula), but the fact that much of it originates from sexually repressed nuns, whose fantasies manifest as the city descends into delirium and their mental stability begins to fracture. We see masturbation, group sex, and an infamous desecration of a statue of Jesus (since banned). While depictions of female desire were rare in contemporary cinema, presenting them through nuns pushed the film far beyond accepted boundaries.
Looking beyond the controversy, The Devils deserves recognition as a highly stylised and technically accomplished film. Its costume design, set construction, cinematography, and sound design combine to create a visceral, inescapable atmosphere of horror. The film is relentless in its energy, with Russell’s handheld close-up camerawork heightening the sense of chaos. The result is both dizzying and immersive, reinforcing themes of mass hysteria and psychological collapse. This is further amplified by a jagged, discordant score that offers little respite.
It is difficult to fully capture the impact of The Devils (1971). It stands as one of the most controversial, beautiful, and disturbing works of cinema, and remains entirely unique. The scale of its production design is remarkable, its visual style feels pioneering, and the performances from Oliver Reed and Vanessa Redgrave are compelling throughout. The film continues to provoke discussion around censorship and religious representation, while also functioning as a deeply political work, with Urbain’s demise symbolising the triumph of institutional corruption over individual conscience. Regardless of perspective, it is a once-in-a-lifetime viewing experience that lingers long after it ends. 4.5/5
