What does a deformed slasher wearing an SS uniform, a black cat and a black horse, a ghost galleon, an Egyptian mummy, and an emotionally troubled young woman have in common? That’s not a joke. If someone out there knows, get in touch and I’ll forward the info to filmmaker Bernard Launois.
That’s more than a little facetious. All the events in Launois’s bizarre horror flick, Devil Story (French: Once upon a time…the devil), do tie together, but in more of a tangle than a knot. Thank goodness this site is more interested in the craft of film rather than interpretive criticism, because trying to unravel the mess that is this film’s story is futile.
Or, maybe that’s just because Devil Story is from France. In the first issue of Heavy Metal, which began as an English-language version of Métal hurlant, the editors write:
“...when the French say ‘science fiction,’ they are not, as you might think, referring to H.G. Wells or Star Trek or even Jules Verne. ‘Science fiction’ is a term which can sufficiently define Big Macs, South America, Methodism, or a weird neighbor. Vogue Magazine, anything Belgian, and pop-top cans are certainly science fiction. The Humanoid ‘Moebius,’ writing in Métal hurlant, describes how, while listening to a Johnny Cash album, he realized science fiction is a cathedral. Are you beginning, dear reader, to sufficiently misunderstand?”
It’s been my experience that the above quote could apply to any familiar form of film, writing, or visual art that passes through the hands of the French, not just science fiction. They are nothing if not creative.
Véronique Renaud stars as…I don’t think her character’s name is ever mentioned in the movie, and the only reason I know her husband’s name, George, is because it was in the captions. The only cast member associated with a character in the credits is Pascal Simon, who played the deformed slasher. Who played his mother, an old couple who ran a chateau, the mummy, or a handful of fodder, I don’t know. So, let’s just list them all. Marcel Portier, Catherine Day, Nicole Desailly, and Christian Paumelle, your work did not go unnoticed, but I can’t place your names with any faces. C’est la vie.
Devil Story opens strong, showing its shitty bona fides early. The monster goes on such a killing spree, slashing and shooting his way through four victims, that one would expect they are about to witness a relentless and bloody slasher, like a super low rent Texas Chainsaw or Hills Have Eyes. But then, Launois takes his movie in unpredictable directions.
Renaud and her husband arrive on scene, and a flat tire coupled with a diabolical rainstorm lead them to seek shelter at a gaudy chateau/b&b. There, the proprietors spin a tale of shipwrecks and familial curses, passed down through the generations until they landed with a thud on the poor monster’s face. Renaud then wanders out into the wilderness in the middle of the night, and the movie goes off the rails.
Horse! Monster! Mummy! Horse! Absolutely hilarious miniature work! Cemetery! Horse! Mummy! Resurrected Egyptian priestess! Blue goo! Horse! Fire! Grievous bodily harm! The order doesn’t matter, the consequences don’t matter, and the ending is the strand of pasta that stuck to the wall.
There wasn’t a blood and guts shot that Launois didn’t drag out to disgusting proportions (a plus), nor any symbolism that, no matter how prominent, made a lick of sense (a minus). But, the entire package is a very watchable shitty movie. The inept earnestness of it is on par with every other shitty filmmaker with a dream and the motivation to scrape just enough cash together to realize it. Devil Story is a labor of love. And because of Launois’s perseverance through what had to be massive doubts, we all get to gather around and laugh at what he has wrought.
Objectively a very bad movie, Devil Story nevertheless takes over the #80 spot in the Watchability Index from Doom Annihilation. Check it out.