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
0
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