The Devils (Ken Russell. 1971)

I am reading Aldous Huxley's book 'The Devils of Loudon', on which this film is based, at the moment so was very intrigued to see what wanton excesses Ken Russell's adaptation of the text would bring. I have equivocal feelings about Russell. I adored 'Women In Love' and I loathed 'Tommy' but it seems that he has a flair for precisely matching content and form in a way few directors can. As a result, I am not sure what I thought of this. I would like to think of it as a serious film about religious devotion and hypocrisy but the sheer flamboyance of Russell's imagery and his drooling, raving protagonists often prevent me from really feeling this. To my mind, this is a film about the power of religious iconography and the sway it can hold over those who are desperate to believe in something. Of course, it's also a film about repression and it seems pertinent in its linking of the religious experience with sex (the testimonies of many saints would confirm this). I don't want to be the sort of person that throws around words like 'tasteless' and 'dissolute' when it comes to discussing Russell as his lack of regard for such notions really seems to be half the point of his stylistic approach anyway. However, when faced with a gaggle of surprisingly good-looking, pert and eager nuns (incidentally, who were all masturbating over images of our Lord, Jesus Christ), the word 'ridiculous' came to mind.