EYE OF THE DEVIL: Blu-ray (MGM-Filmways, 1966) Warner Archive

Director, J. Lee Thompson aspired to make something wickedly bone-chilling of Philip Loraine’s 1964 novel, The Day of the Arrow – a suspenseful foray in the vein of Daphne Du Maurier, teeming in the ‘dark old house’ milieu (in this case, a castle in Auvergne), mystery, menace and romance. Robin Estridge, writing under the nom de plume of Loraine, created a nominal hero from the likes of an idyllic young Scottish painter. But Thompson’s filmic reincarnation, re-branded Eye of the Devil (1966) jettisons this character to concentrate on his friend in the novel – Philippe de Montfaucon, the Marquis of Bellac, played with rather lugubrious surrender by an aged David Niven. Also in the cast, a regal Deborah Kerr (in a role originally intended for Kim Novak), as his wife, Catherine, sporting a lop-sided hairdo frequently to become undone (Freud would make much of this), but wearing some stunningly handsome creations by John Furniss.  Donald Pleasance, yet to gain his card-carrying cinema status as a resident ghoul, is Pere Dominic – a truly soulless man of the cloth, Edward Mulhare, as Jean-Claude Ibert - a sort-of friend of the family, Flora Robson, as the emotionally scarred mama of this Maison, the Countess Estell, and finally, a dark and brooding David Hemming and hauntingly beautiful Sharon Tate – a la vixen with the piercing stare – as brother and sister, Christian and Odile de Caray. Given these heavy hitters, not to mention Thompson in the director’s chair and no less a powerhouse than Martin Ransohoff producing (with his long-time partner, John Calley), that the whole affair turned out the cinematic equivalent of a tedious ‘locked room’ stage play, steeped in Gothic trappings, exquisitely photographed in B&W by Erwin Hillier (the last movie to be shot on monochromatic film stock) was perhaps the biggest mystery of all. Thompson is going for the classy treatment here. There are no gratuitous chills, spills or spectacles. But somewhere along the way, Thompson has quite forgotten that to truly terrorize an audience a bit of action is required now and then. There is, in fact, one scene where Kerr’s Catherine, having ridden out to the family mausoleum somewhere on the wooded grounds, is pursued by hooded figures she earlier viewed in her husband’s stately home, with Hillier’s camera work devolving into a quick-pan montage of sky and ground, and the occasional wild-eyed stare of its fleeing protagonist as she gets entangled in a reedy mess. But otherwise, the entire cast interminably skulk about these stately grounds with a sort of paralytic affliction to permanently embalm this tale of…well…we’re never entirely sure.   

Martin Ransohoff bought the rights for Filmways as part of his multi-picture distribution deal with Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, then, in its own costly freefall into oblivion.  And while Estridge, again working under his pseudonym, Loraine, wrote the screenplay, Ransohoff also brought in his own talent to polish it – Dennis Murphy, and later, an uncredited Terry Southern. The gumbo to emerge from their tinkering neither tightened nor brightened the outlook of the picture, to completely vanish from view in the U.S. after doing its belly flop at the box office.  A pity too, as Eye of the Devil marked the first speaking role for Sharon Tate, whose own bloody demise barely 3-years later at the hands of the Manson followers, seems to be somehow ominously foreshadowed in this picture. If Eye of the Devil remains a picture of compromises, it is largely due to the ominous kismet behind the scenes. Depending on the source consulted, Ransohoff’s original choice of Kim Novak was either forced to bow out after fracturing several vertebrae being thrown from a horse while shooting in France, or had a bitter squabble with Ransohoff, shortly thereafter to be sacked, while first-cut director, Sidney J. Furie was inexplicably replaced by Michael Anderson, who then fell ill and had to be swapped out for Thompson. P.S. - rumors persist that some of the footage in the finished flick was actually shot by Anderson, and Catherine, in long-shot, is still Novak, not Kerr.

Immediately following the MGM trademark, Eye of the Devil begins with a thoroughly bizarre and overwrought montage of images excised from the rest of the movie, inexplicably mashed together with Gary McFarland’s excitable underscore making its own attempt at crude foreshadowing. We regress to the fashionable Paris digs of Phillippe and Catherine who, at present, are entertaining guests bedecked in tuxedos and opulent gowns. In the middle of a harp recital, the couple’s young son, Jacques (Robert Duncan) appears in his housecoat, hypnotically drawn to the music. A short while later, Grandec (Michael Miller), a mysterious figure, arrives in Phillippe’s study, declaring “it is time”, to which Phillippe agonizes. Approached by his concerned wife, Catherine, Phillippe confides he must return to his ancestral home in Bordeaux as the vineyards are failing. Encouraging Catherine to remain in Paris with their two children, they also have a daughter, Antoinette (Suky Appleby), Phillippe seems to hint he will never return. While Phillippe makes the drive to Bellac, Catherine confides her concerns over his mysterious departure to close friend, Jean-Claude. But in the middle of their fireside chat, Jacques suddenly materializes again from the dark, this time, sleep-walking and quietly demanding to be taken to his father’s estate immediately.

The next day, Catherine and the children make their pilgrimage to Bellac. They are greeted by an ill omen as archer, Christian de Caray pierces the breast of a white dove with his bow and arrow, the mortally wounded fowl falling at Catherine’s feet. Catherine is also reunited with Pere Dominic who has presented Phillippe with a curious amulet. Meanwhile, Philippe’s Aunt Estell disassociates herself from Catherine while cursing Christian and Odile for their wickedness. That evening, Catherine wanders through the cavernous halls, stumbling upon a ritual where hooded figures gathered around a candlelit table are presented with the impaled dove by Odile and Christian. Moments before Pere Dominic closes the doors, Catherine believes she has identified Phillippe as the head of this perverted ceremony, despite consulting the butler about her husband’s whereabouts, only to be informed he has not returned from his sojourn into the village earlier that day. Almost immediately, an old and gnarled man whom we come to discover is Phillippe’s father, Alain (Emlyn Williams) – presumed dead, but actually having taken refuge in the tower, gently forewarns Cate to take her offspring and go. Much later, Phillippe arrives in their bed chamber to comfort Catherine and assuage her concerns about these ‘ancient superstitions’.

The next afternoon, while playing on the grounds near a lily pond, Jacques and Antoinette are ‘entertained’ by Odile, who transforms an ugly toad into a white dove. Catherine arrives to collect her children, but warns her tolerance for Odile and Christian has worn thin. She would have them off the estate, a decision to cause strong-willed Christian to threateningly point his bow and arrow directly at her. Like the other half-baked terrors in Eye of the Devil, nothing comes of this, except Catherine demands Phillippe expel Odile and Christian from the estate. This, alas, he emphatically refuses to do. Jean-Claude arrives for a visit and aids in Catherine’s exhumation of the family history: 22 heirs, dating all the way back to the 12th century, dead of not-so-mysterious circumstances. Philippe and Christian ride out to the blighted vineyards. Meanwhile, Catherine has taken another horse to investigate the tomb of Edouard de Montfaucon. Inside the decaying mausoleum, Cate unearths an inscription referring to twelve dancers. However, upon exiting the tomb, she discovers her horse gone and the valley now encircled by the same hooded figures she earlier observed. Terrified, she attempts to flee on foot, is ensnared in some tall reeds and faints, only to awaken hours later in her own bed. Phillippe sedates and locks her in her room. Panicked, Cate breaks open the shutters and signals Estell, who is entertaining the children in another part of the castle, using a mirror to cast sunlit reflections on the wall. At first, pretending to ignore this cry for help, Estell finally orders her maid to set Catherine free.

Again, nonsensically, though conveniently, Cate faints, only to awaken in her room as before, with soft sunlight filtering through the windows and all of the locks removed from the doors. Doctor Monnett (John Le Mesurier) insists she imagined the whole hallucinogenic episode, observing as the villagers prepare for a festival - Les 13 Jours. Catherine pursues the people into the church where Père Dominic presides over a ceremony in which Philippe is brought to kneel at the altar. Afterward, in the church’s forecourt Philippe kisses Jacques, the crowd gasps and Estell inexplicably screams bloody murder. Sometime later, Estell breaks her silence, revealing to Cate her brother Alain, Philippe's father, did not die, but ran away to escape the family curse. He now lives in the tower. Cate confronts Alain, who explains the purpose of the earlier ceremony. The 12 apostles were dancing around a suitable blood sacrifice as Père Dominic is a pagan who celebrates the Black Mass. When Philippe kissed Jacques, it basically sealed his own fate. Attempting to deny destiny, Catherine implores Phillippe to remain at her side. But he is resolute to die and, indeed, a short while later, rides away with 12 robed figures and Christian, his body brought home after the ritual has been performed. As Jean-Claude and Cate prepare to take the children away for good, a hellish storm breaks out. At the last possible moment, Jacques insists he go back to get the watch he left behind. But once inside, the child is confronted by Pere Dominic who has him kiss the amulet Phillippe also honored, ensuring the whole process of human sacrifice will take place all over again.

Eye of the Devil is such a haplessly assembled claptrap of half-baked ideas and squandered chills it bears little discussion other than to lament its unsuccessful outcome. Indeed, the picture tanked at the box office, though it later was to evolve a cult following, mostly in Europe. The talent here is A-list but utterly wasted. Deborah Kerr’s performance is laughably high-strung. She shows none of the unsettling dark restraint exhibited to far greater emotional effect in The Innocents (1961), a superior castle/creeper also shot in B&W.  David Niven is about as self-possessed as a stick of kindling – sad-eyed, but otherwise stilted at every turn. The cinematography is breathtaking. Alas, J. Lee Thompson’s direction is much ado about virtually nothing. Given Thompson’s illustrious career, I anticipated so much more from this outing. Instead, Thompson manages to make the least of the Estridge/Murphy screenplay that, in and of itself, is not exactly serviceable either. The opening montage, to basically foreshadow elements of the story yet to be told, is meaningless and strewn together with all the finesse of a decapitated chicken. What follows it is not much better. Of the performances, Sharon Tate’s proves the most haunting. There is real ‘bitch’ virtuosity on tap here, coupled with flashes of demonic possession. Donald Pleasance has a moment or two in which to tantalize us with fear of the unknown. Edward Mulhare – much later, of Knight Rider fame - is sorely overlooked in the thankless role of ‘the friend’.  

Eye of the Devil arrives on Blu-ray via the Warner Archive (WAC). The results are not exactly stellar. Owing to surviving elements, much of the image here is softly focused. Occasionally, the image snaps together with a crisp refinement to reveal finer features. But overall, it remains slightly out of focus and marginally thick without, curiously, exhibiting film grain. Contrast is solid. Age-related artifacts are not an issue. But if I had to guess, there’s been some digital scrubbing here to homogenize the image, and the results have transformed a one-time grain-textured image into a soft, mushy mess. Not impressed. The 1.0 DTS audio is adequate for this mostly-dialogue-driven excursion. Save a theatrical trailer, there are no extras. Bottom line: Eye of the Devil is not a great movie, and this tepid handling of whatever original elements have survived from Filmways does not yield a greater admiration for this loose and lousy little tale of terror. Boo-hoo, more than ‘boo!’ here. Judge and buy accordingly.

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

1

VIDEO/AUDIO

3

EXTRAS

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