Fascination can be a mystifying allure when attached to whatever I choose to watch because most of the time, I go in with an open mind. Very rarely do I know a film is going to be good or bad and other times, I’m privy to just sit back and go with the ride because I don’t know how to interpret something.
“Late Night With the Devil” was another one of those rare cases. And for the most part, I’d argue it was worth it.
This is my first time ever watching a Colin and Cameron Cairnes directorial feature and boy howdy, do they know how to play with tension. Unlike RackaRacka’s penchant for manipulating everything through hyperactivity and an undercurrent of giddy live-wire energy, the Cairnes’ confidence is outlined by a hypnotic restraint. Their dedication to their craft extends beyond just the aura they set up and they do everything in their power to refrain from dipping into the realms of and tasteless caricatures with nimble agility.
So much about how this film’s presentation and the totality of it, I absolutely adore.
Matthew Temple’s cinematography, for instance, gleefully snakes and zips around tracking shots and old aspect ratios, highlighting that frantic, unstable energy one would expect from of any live program and the refined editing and framework carries this glossy garnishment and admittedly impressive ostentatiousness to the shrewd but careful production design. Authentic is not a word I want to throw around lightly but for this set design, I’d have to just say this comes close; it’s honestly warming how visually lurching the stagecraft and the sets are, how MOSTLY convincing this period piece TV set format embraces its muted color palette, VHS analog trappings and pastiche style. Even the films grainy texture lends itself to its grindhouse aesthetic.
Atmosphere matches the moral anxiety of the unraveling time period and highlights the stressfully curated facade of organized chaos on set; like a lost piece of arcana complimenting a long-gone era. Balancing all of that cheapishly sharp splendor further buoys and anchors the otherwise adequate dialogue, puts a death grip over its sturdy practical effects and eliminates any sluggish sensations with a brisk pace, clocking in at only 93 minutes. It’s sparse use of death because of how abrupt and jolting they are makes for excellent uses of the R-rating and combining this baby boomer showbiz cheesiness with found footage horror theatrics made for a confounding balancing act for its tone to hold together.
Performance wise, they all speak for themselves, thankfully elevating their stock characters - the nervy host, the cynical guest, the concerned friend, the stern professional - to name a few. David Dastmalchian’s low-wattage desperation and hammy charm makes him a leading man worth commanding the screen but a special shoutout also goes to Ingrid Torelli who’s unsettling aura bolsters a striking presence that nearly rivals his.
It is true that the plot at hand hits all the familiar beats of an exorcism-themed movie and the rest of its narrative components are fairly stock: think The King of Comedy meets Anchorman blended to sport the shredded remains of the found footage genre and structured like a schlockumentary (I think that’s what it’s called). Even its commentary on the lengths people go to achieve success, and the fallout that comes with it and not tangling with forces beyond your control have been done to death in better scripts or TV shows. BUT…..considering the cultural zeitgeist of the 70’s was filled with anger and cynicism based on the ongoing suffering of so many areas of society, where people were rejecting expected structures and traditional expectations, it does make for a fascinating period piece, a tribute to late night television, AND a glorious riffing of The Exorcist all the same. Contextually, the story delivers itself on that premise and its writing more than matches that same resolve.
Late night TV had a simple formula revolving around merging its amateurish design and the disillusion behind its prewritten nature together but it also required your patience as my 70’s Cinema class made me realize. This writing intends to play more on that shaken disillusion on real life than the idea of sacrifice, mashing holistic and voyeuristic perspectives towards and against each other to really pull at your current beliefs. Again, it’s strictly familiar, there’s nothing really new about it but it’s that intentional rug-pulling and disconnect that helps it feel just the tiniest bit different. And even as the ending spirals into questionable assumptions and unmarked territory, it’s still thoughtfully thematic.
Yet for such a fascinating foundation, the limitations of the found-footage format kept coming in to annoy me. Not just because my curiosity got the better of me and I wondered who else was shooting what and why during backstage conversations but it just cracks the immersion ever so slightly. It feels like the 70’s but at the same time, it doesn’t. Think of it more like a bizarre fetishization, a cliff notes version of what someone thinks the main topics of the 70’s were about.
And then there’s the A.I art inter-title transitions. I’m of two minds on this: it’s inevitable on one hand considering how far we’re advancing in technology. A.I is, and SHOULD BE, a tool for ethical uses to lighten the workload as long as we don’t get lazy. Sure, it would’ve been better to get an actual artist to do it but the fact that it stayed strictly on those transitions and nothing else shows these guys have some restraint. Plus they actually did go back and patch it up.
But it doesn’t become any less disappointing to know after all those months of striking to prevent this kind of thing from becoming more common, it all feels like a waste, especially when you consider how well they recreated the rest of the sets and atmosphere. So when you realize that, the question becomes “What for?”
Not the masterpiece others are claiming but damn, does it make for a good hour and thirty minutes.
