“Enter the Devil is a diamond in the rough of cheap and greasy drive-in flicks. It is to be experienced and marveled at as a stunning example of effective and shocking regional thrillers. And it still works.”
REELREVIEWS.COM
Who made it? Directed by Frank Q Dobbs | Written by David S Cass Snr / Frank Q Dobbs | Director Of Photography Michael F Cusack | Special Effects JAcl ennet / Ed Geldart | Music Beau Eurell /AJ Smutt
Who’s in it? Norman Kelley | Tanna Hunter | Bruce Detrick | Jack Beubeck | Paul Craig Jennings
If you weren’t watching this the week it came out, you might have been watching…
Unclear release date. Top ten 1972 movies include Diamonds Are Forever / The Godfather / Fiddler On the Roof / The Devils / Steptoe & Son / The French Connection
Production notes and whatnot
https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0068540/
What’s it all about?
Well once again we are on a dusty cactus laden track. The score is frankly more up to date and we are in the realm of Ultravox or perhaps the great Gary Newman.
Our hapless driver (they’re always hapless before the credits roll. I wonder why they all set off for these distant cowboy towns without checking the boot for all their hap? But they do. Our driver is framed in the sights of a distant sniper and POW! Out goes his tyre. Oh this isn’t going to be good. Out he clambers, all plaid hunter’s cap and fwoofy hick moustache. His crackly radio tells us we are in deep Texas territory, where our tale is to be told. Up comes a pick-up truck to give him a lift. And off they go into the dust of a sunny afternoon. And we won’t be seeing him much again we can sense…
And now we’re in business!
Over the credits we are in druidy sacrifice country, once again. We get the obligatory credits while, eerie silhouetted figures cross the horizon, each hooded and cowled and holding a blazing torch. There are robes, there is chanting of the mystic Gregorian/latiny type, there are candles and wind across the fields as the sun sets. You’ll know by now I’m a sucker for a bit of “Sanctus” so I’m feeling good about this one. Oh yes, we’re in for some fun.
Especially as, just prior to the movie starting proper, we in in cavey dungeon territory and there are juicy Pacer Mint stripes of lashings and carvings on some poor souls’ flesh. Hoo boy.
A quick change of tone however….because the rest of movie pretty much turns – in a good way – into an X Rated episode of one of those TV cowboy shows. Bonanza, The High Chaparral. Hey even thrown in a little Dukes Of Hazard while we’re here. We are with real men drinking real beer and drivin’ dusty old pick-ups, knives in back pockets and battered working gloves hangin’ on the belt.
A cop – the David Arquette type (we’ll call him Arquette) – is busying himself fixin’ up a jeep. The standard central-casting portly sheriff comes a’waddlin’ out. It’s the old “up for re-election” staple so Sheriff doesn’t want any open cases on the books. And there’s talk of a missing person. Why doesn’t Arquette “haul-ass” (or whatever) and go a-lookin’ for this missin’ fellah?
And off he goes.
Meanwhile, somewhere in a cave or cavern, a poor victim is being attached to a cross Jesus style. Barbed wire. Drippy blood. If this is the chap Arquette is hunting for…he’s going to be able to bring the remains home with a sponge.
Arquette gets directions from a very non-crazy “Crazy Ralph” type (see Friday The 13th for details) and he’s driving through dust and canyons to near the Tex-Mex border.
Arquette arrives to find an old pal Glenn. A drinkin’ buddy. Neckin’ a cold tin of Pearl lahger (more on that later), there is manly good-old-boy back slappin’. His pal runs a hunting lodge. Horses, dust, logs. A place where locals can spend the weekend on rough beds polishing their rifles and intimidating Mexican teenage girls. As you do.
Glen tells Arquette that one of his maids – Juanita – still holds a candle. So it looks like Arquette has a reason to stick around some.
Cue the arrival of the hunters. They’re all sippin’ more Pearl beer and ready for a weekend blasting shot at terrified deer. There’ll be some boisterous and manly carousing to be had before Monday morning and they’re all back at the power plant. Or something.
But what is this?! On their trip out in the back of a pick-up, they spread out to find their prey. But stumble across a burnt out car at the bottom of a ravine. Ooooh, nasty. The car’s all charred and busted up, blackened and burnt…as is the driver, little of whom remains that doesn’t look like charcoal.
But the sheriff will be damned if this “accident” is going to cost him his re-election so it’s “hushed up” all round. You can’t dust for charcoal so it’s written off as an accident. We, dear viewer, of course know different. Especially when the local Doc (played by a young Steve Martin lookalike) claims the driver was stabbed to death, rather than burnt alive. Hmmm.
This doctor is one of the good guys though, so he’s interested in what might have gone on, his interest piqued further as he flips through a handy copy of “20th Century Primitives” by Professor Leslie Suchandsuch. A quick phone call to the El Paso University…maybe this Prof Leslie can shed some light on stabbed men who die in burnt cars on Mexican borders? Well…you never know…
Meanwhile, back on the ranch (honestly, how often can you write that?) the hunters are misbehaving. Over plates of steak and corn and whatever the fuck “grits” is – and a whole barrel of good old Pearl beer – there is some loud drunky flirting with Juanita and Maria. The ladies are having none of it and a rapey-scuffle by some chap we’ll call “Tachy McDick” is interrupted by the Mexican man of the house.
But let’s not stand about while Tachy licks his wounds, let’s meet Prof Leslie! For tis she! She has arrived with Doc Martin. She’s all sass and sunglasses and Glen is definitely partial to a visit from the PhD for an all over exam.
I’m suddenly reminded of a scene in a sitcom when a woman says “can the doctor see me now!” in a brassy sexy manner. Friends? Yes. I think its fatted-up Monica. Anyhoo, back on the ranch…
We get a nice bit of, what one could attempt to brand “satire” at this point, given we are in the world of crazy religions and cults. They ask the snr Mexican if he’s religious? He laughs. He’s a Christian. But hey, one day you can eat meat on a Friday, next the church says you can’t? Then you’ve got a St Christopher’s medal for luck? But he ain’t going to save you?
They all give a wry chuckle. Religion, eh? Tch, whassit all about?! They’re all the same!
The screen doesn’t flash “author’s message” at the bottom, a la Woody Allen’s “What’s New Pussycat.” But it might as well.
Brilliant.
So where were we? You’ll have noticed not much blood and/or guts so far. In fact it’s fair to say this is far far too well made a rural Tex-Mexsploitation drama, full of rounded characters and dramatic beats to waste time flinging offal about. Which is a shame. But more of that later. Back to the plot.
In fact, I spoke too soon, for what should happen next but rapey old Tachey McDick is out on the prairie, burping up a weekend’s worth of Pearl bubbles, when he gets jumped by some hooded cowl type. Boom! They’re all over him. That’ll serve him right, the randy old Quaid.
His fellow hunters go looking for him, but alas it’s too late as we witness him being trussed up, flaming torches in his face, surrounded by snakes. By jingo, there’s somethin’ weird going on in those mountain caves, I can tell you.
Eventually he is found. But worse for wear. Dead. A snake bite? Round these parts? Hmmmn. Chalk up suspicious death number #2.
Now this will hardly be good for business, as Glen watches all his guests pile out of their dorms and into their trucks. Hell, this was meant to be a simple huntin’ trip! 2 dead? Let’s get outta here! So off they roar in their beaten up pick up, leaving just Glenn, Arquette, Doc Martin, sexy Professor Leslie and the Mexican staff. Bugger. That’s fucked the season worse than Brexit.
Well if you’ve no guests to cook up grits for, you might as well make a pass at the only skirt in the village. Some chit chat about the resurrection of obscure cults and religions on the Mexican border. Hmm, a clue? Or at least…some plot? Well enough of that hokum. Glen comes a-knockin’ with wine (presumably from the vineyard at Pearl Breweries) and bread and cheese and conversation and a massive hard-on in his Wranglers, we assume. And good luck to them both. (Frankly, it’s nice, now we’re on Episode 14 of this project, to get some actual consensual sex. I’ve had it up to here with slappy Nazis and bum-smackin’ oafs. But then that’s my liberal post-Marxist Westminster bubble softy softy PC Corbynista-ness coming out I suppose. Pass the Kale smoothie…)
So, next morning after he’s picked the bits of dry tissues off his bits and she’s taken the morning after-pill, they’re all up early to visit a local mine to hunt for clues. Cue dusty mine carts and pick-axes as local Mexicans chip and hack into the stone. But wait! Who is this! Is it a chap with three slashes on his back?! B-b-b-but hold on! We saw him being tortured in the opening scene! Curiouser and curiouser, said Alice.
For about 5 minutes, the director realises nothing has happened, so we get an entirely pointless “stunt,” as a rusty min-cart comes loose of its rusty-mine-cart-lock and knock Arquette off a cliff. No-one hurt. No harm done. But it’ll look good in the trailer.
So back to the hunting lodge. Let’s relax on the porch with yet another can of good old refreshing Pearl beer. Arquette arranges and cheeky “don’t tell your pop” liaison with Juanita for that night. What could go wrong?
Well we’re in the last 15 mins so Juanita has had it.
Off for her midnight tryst, she is grappled and manhandled away by Druidy chap#4 and whisked off for some kind of sacrificial whatnot. Arquette spots the flaming torches ‘cross yonder (sorry, the Westerny feel is making me write like Elmer Kelton. (Look him up).
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elmer_Kelton Juanita is ready for sacrificing! Barbed wire, wooden crosses, people in cowly druidy robes, incantations and Gregorian whatnot! Wicker set alight! Hammers and nails! The music goes very Omen II (great score).
with a healthy bit of Wendy Carlos’s discordant thunder from The Shining
Arquette gathers to watch from a high, distant viewpoint, a la Temple Of Doom, as the sacrifice and rituals commence. But as always, you can’t hide for long and now its Druids vs Cowpokes ahoy!
Attack! Gun fire! Run! Run! Our hero scarpers sharpish and high-tails it outta Dodge. But to no avail as whoever fixed his jeep (wait a second…wasn’t it him? About 90mins ago?) comes from the A-Team school of wiring, so as the jeep (no brakes!) careers off the ravine it, for no reason known to engineering or physics, bursts into flames. Well it’ll look good in the trailer…
So we’re I the last gasp of the movie. Professor Leslie clambers onto a train to head back to El Paso, leaving the “men” behind to sort out the problems. (See how I put “men” in commas there? Christ, what a wokey snowflake I have become). They’re men. That’s not inherently a bad thing. Sigh.
But sass! Prof Leslie waits for the train to slow down and off she jumps, doubling back!
Sheriff and Doc Martin meet Mentally-Stable Ralph. He’s seen weird things! “Women! Lights!” Something ain’t right up there in those mountains. So we are all set for a final confrontation. Which, with seven short minutes to go, we’re about to get.
Up to the hills they go… Down, down, down into the caves. They hear singing and chanting. Which, to be honest, is not clear if is the cast or the soundtrack, as it does seem to be backed up by some nifty synth work. It’s not clear if one of the druids has a Moog up his cassock.
A Moog Up His Cassock. I love my job sometimes.
Down the rickety ladder they descend, “Watch that first step…it’s a big one.”
Oopsie! We’re back in Indy territory, as some loose rocks draw attention to them and they are nabbed. Cut to our helpless PhD on the stone altar! It’s all got very Roger Corman and baroque.
She is to be sacrificed! And slowly the hoods and cowls are removed to find…
Shock! The cast! It’s the Mexicans from the lodge! And it’s Glen! Dan Dan Dahhh!
Well there’s nothing more to do now than have the Calvary arrive, Deux Ex Machine Gunner. It all goes Sam Penkinpah as the townsfolk, Sheriff and Uncle Tom Cobly turn up –hopped up on Pearl Export Extra Strength – with what appear to be sub-machine guns and start ratatatatting the place down! Screams! Yells! Blood! Havoc! Rock falls! Robes!
And more and more gunning…
And you don’t get a last line like: “Maybe dynamite will put an end to all this foolishness?” very often, so savour it.
Ka-boom.
Burp.
Credits
All brought to you, sponsored by the nice people “Pearl” beer.
Is it any good?
Oh it’s a treat. Production values are clearly something that is growing as the months and years tick by in the Nasty genre.
But what we have is a finely performed and solidly directed Mexican/Texan thriller with just the right amount of shocks and thrills to pass an idle 2 hours or so.
Inspiration for “Enter The Devil” is clearly based on the legends and lore of the Penitentes, aka ‘The Brothers of the Pious Fraternity of Our Father Jesus the Nazarene‘, aka Los Hermanos, the Brotherhood of our Father Jesus of Nazareth or indeed The Penitente Brotherhood. As of course I’m sure you already knew (yawn). This bunch, according to limited research I could be bothered to do, are a lay confraternity of Spanish-American Catholic men, mainly busying themselves around Northern and Central New Mexico and southern Colorado. You can read all about them here should this sort of thing blow your cassock up.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Penitentes_(New_Mexico)
So the mystical lore around these cowls and candles chaps makes fine fodder for a flick about cave dwelling druidy types and plenty of excuses for heaps o’ Gregorian chant, flaming torches, sacrifices and chalices. All sexed up for the movie of course.
Off the back of this movie, dusty desert based thrills became something of a trend, mixing as they do the horror stalwarts of covens and caves, death and dust, Catholicism and cacti. This was, after all, just 3 years after the horrific “cults” of Manson et al were all over the US headlines filling small-town folk with a fear and distrust of secret societies out in the West. A couple of other movies in what I am now calling Texploitation are Jack Starrat’s Race With The Devil (starring king of the desert track, Peter Fonda) and Robert Fuest’s The Devil’s Rain (watchable for a young William Shatner, Tom Skerritt, Ernest Borgnine, Eddie Albert, Ida Lupino and the debut of John Travolta).
The clichés we know are all present and correct however all played straight by decent TV actors so they ring truer than they might in a cheaper version: Our chubby sheriff, up for re-election; our yokel with suspicions about what’s goin’ on up in them there hills; our sassy Sociologist Professor on the case. All present and correct but giving it all they’ve got.
The hunters up from the city for a day’s shootin’ are straight out of Jaws: Laughing and carousing. All that’s missing is a snarky Richard Dreyfuss to tell them “you’ve over loading that truck.”
The druids themselves are part Tatooine Tusken Raiders/Sand-people in their aspect, with a healthy dose of an elongated Jawa, an image not helped by the dusty mountainous terrain.
The relationship between our two leads is easy to buy, resembling as they both do, Sam and Diane from the sitcom Cheers. She’s a blousy egg-head he’s the rough talkin’, denim wearing, suede-jacketed stud who likes his gals clean and his beer from the fine Pearl brewery.
Which reminds me: An over-riding image or message one takes from this high class bit of dusty death is to drink “Pearl Beer.” Now, as an Englishman, I have no idea what Pearl Beer is. I can only surmise, from the thin crumple-ease tins that it’s a generic weak, pale, slightly fizzy lager that Americans “chug” at a ball-game. Weaker than lemonade, filthier than piss, it goes well with a lynching, curly fries or the Superbowl.
Here in London we have…well, we have actual beer. Stout, lager, bitter, mild. Each as thick and chewy as ya momma’s best grits. That’s a drink. Sunday lunch in a glass.
Oh. Oh! And by the way. By the fucking way, let me take this opportunity to call something out that’s bothered me for YEARS.
There is a scene in the sitcom “Friends.” I’m sure you know the show. The gang have been to London (Cue cameos from Hugh Laurie, Sarah Ferguson and Richard Branson) and are reminiscing about their time in the capital. Someone mentions “Boddingtons” as a classic UK beer. “What I wouldn’t give for another frosty glass of that bad boy!” Joey says.
Frosty glass of Boddingtons? Frosty? A straw-golden hoppy bitter served at ROOM TEMPERATURE? Ffs. Idiot. You may as well pine for a freezing glass of Yorkshire Pudding
Sorry. Needed to get that off my chest.
But Pearl is a major sponsor of the movie and gets a huge thanks in the credits and blimey they get their money’s worth of product placement. Hic.
Some of the cavern and cave scenes are a little murky on the Mexican border. Or as Speedy Gonzales would have said, “under-lit! Under-lit!” But the gore is red and sloshy and there is genuine peril to grip the peril-hungry viewer.
So crack open a Pearl, light a torch, sharpen your barbed-wire and settle in for a genuine treat.
Nasty?
Not unpleasantly so, which is a nice change. As we’re discovering on this journey (and it IS a journey) often the violence, the attacks, the bludgeoning and slicing up is done with a spiteful, vicious, twisted-minded prowly ugliness. So the turn-off is as much the “attitude” to the leering acts as it is the claret and lasagne itself. But the blood-letting and bashing on screen here is, if it doesn’t sound contradictory, “harmless” enough, wrapped as it is in cowls and gloom with plenty of good “Sanctus Dominus!” on the soundtrack. So not one for the squeamish – far from it – but the gore and whatnot is more likely to raise “urghs!” and “giggles” than distaste.
Ban worthy?
Not in the slightest.
Yes, we have carvings into flesh, the red gluey drip of stage-blood, charred skulls and crucifixes, but nothing at all to bother the weak-minded or lily-livered. This particular Druids vs Cowboys saga appeared on the dreaded “Video Nasty – Big 72” list, back when VHS was being seized willy-nilly, thus making it something of a must-see for the completists and purists and fans of Pearl beer. But one must attribute its inclusion on the list, as is becoming common, to a lurid title: “Devils” are right up there with “Cannibals” and “Last’s” to get the Public Prosecutors trembling. Plus of course a box that promises much more gore than we actually get.
What Does It Remind Me Of?
Well there’s a little Saturday early-evening fun with the Western theme that has a touch of the Dukes Of Hazzard. The aesthetic of the men (hats, boots, suede jackets, battered gloves and pick-ups) isn’t too from a cheap Brokeback Mountain spin-off. As mentioned, the attacks and jumps in the desert are straight out of Star Wars A New Hope. “I don’t recall owning any Druids?” You have the lumpen locals from Jaws. But I’ll tell you what it most reminds me of. And it’s this sketch by the legendary British comedy double act Fry & Laurie. Or to international readers, the voice of Harry Potter Audio books and Gregory House. Honestly. This is what I thought about the whole damned picture. Cut this sketch with an episode of Bonanza and you have Enter The Devil.
Where Can I See it?
Copyright being what it is, there’s a decent print kicking about for free on YouTube here:
letsgetthebannedbacktogether.uk 
One thought on “LET’S GET THE BANNED BACK TOGETHER! Ep 20 – “ENTER THE DEVIL” aka “DISCIPLES OF DEATH” (1974)”