THE DEVIL’S RAIN 1975
If you’re looking for a horror film that’s equal parts bonkers, star-studded, and gloriously gooey, look no further than The Devil’s Rain (1975). Directed by Robert Fuest—the same man who gave us the deliciously campy Dr. Phibes movies—this supernatural oddity is a fever dream of Satanic cults, melting faces, not the least of which is the eyeless victims whose empty windows to the soul speak of agony and torture. And there’s some of the most committed overacting you’ll ever see. It’s the kind of film that, as Roger Ebert quipped, “spends so much time melting people, you’ll feel like an exorcised popsicle by the end.”
Let’s start with the cast because The Devil’s Rain is a veritable who’s-who of 1970s pop culture. William Shatner, in full post-Star Trek pre-Motion Picture mode, stars as Mark Preston, a man whose family is cursed by a centuries-old Satanic feud. Shatner brings his signature staccato delivery and wide-eyed intensity, especially when reciting the Lord’s Prayer at a coven of eyeless cultists. Ida Lupino, the legendary actress, and director, plays his mother, Emma, who spends much of the film either in distress or, later, shuffling around as a black-eyed, soulless minion of the Devil. Tom Skerritt shows up as Mark’s brother, Eddie Albert as a psychic researcher, and—blink and you’ll miss him—a young John Travolta makes his film debut as a robed cultist, his eyes as black as his future disco shirts.
But the real star here is Ernest Borgnine, who chews the scenery (and possibly the script) as Jonathan Corbis, the Satanic cult leader. Borgnine is clearly having the time of his life, whether he’s cackling maniacally, vanishing in puffs of smoke, or transforming into a full-on Goat God, complete with curly horns and a face that looks like it wandered off the set of a particularly wild Renaissance fair.
As one critic put it, “It’s a treat getting to watch Ernest Borgnine (Marty himself), and it’s an added kick seeing him in monster makeup whenever he summons up a goat-demon from the pits of hell.”
In Delbert Mann’s film Marty 1955, Borgnine not only was nominated for Best Actor but won the Academy Award. His Oscar winning character Marty Piletti is the antithesis of Corbis, who really gets into his diabolical revelry.
The plot? Let’s just say that coherence is not the film’s strong suit. The Preston family is being hunted by Corbis and his cult, who want a book of blood contracts that will give them dominion over the souls of the damned. There are flashbacks to Puritan times, psychic visions, and a Satanic church in the middle of the desert that looks like it was decorated by someone who’d just discovered Hieronymus Bosch’s art. The dialogue is often as bewildered as the audience—at one point, Eddie Albert’s character shrugs, “I don’t know, maybe the right moment. You’ll never find the reason.”
And honestly, you won’t.
Shatner is subjected to ritualistic torture and is chained to a cross-shaped altar as part of the Satanic cult’s ceremony. During the film’s climactic sequence, his character, Mark, is captured by Corbis and his followers. He is stripped, whipped, and tied to an altar that is cross-shaped, though the film doesn’t depict a full crucifixion with nails driven through his hands or feet. Instead, the imagery is meant to evoke sacrificial and religious overtones, emphasizing his helplessness and the cult’s power over him. Ultimately, Mark’s will is broken, his soul is transferred into a waxen image, and he becomes one of the cult’s eyeless, soulless minions, with his eyes hollowed out into black sockets. Even with no eyes, Shatner manages to invoke the ham within.
But what The Devil’s Rain lacks in narrative logic, it more than makes up for in atmosphere and spectacle. The film is shot in sun-bleached, dusty locations in Durango, Mexico, giving it a weird, otherworldly vibe- full of wide, empty landscapes and shadowy interiors, and the music by Al De Lory adds a layer of melodramatic doom.
The cinematography overseen by Alex Phillips, Jr. (Total Recall 1990 and Murphy’s Law 1986– two films that diverge like a rocket ship blasting off to Mars while a beat-up cop car’s axle falls off in a back alley.
And then there’s the special effects. Oh, the special effects. The film’s claim to fame is its nearly ten-minute “melting” finale, in which the cultists—having finally been doused by the titular Devil’s Rain—literally dissolve into puddles of goo. The effect was achieved by pumping colored methylcellulose, air, and smoke through prosthetics, resulting in a goopy, unforgettable spectacle that’s been called “absolutely the most incredible ending of any motion picture.” As Ebert noted, “If only they’d melted just a little, just enough to give us the idea. But no, they melt, and melt, and melt…”
The film’s production is just as wild as what’s on screen. Real-life Church of Satan founder Anton LaVey served as a technical advisor and even appeared in a cameo as a masked high priest. During filming, Joan Prather gave John Travolta a copy of Dianetics, leading to his conversion to Scientology—a bit of trivia as strange as anything in the movie itself.
For fans of cult cinema, the film’s strange hallucinatory atmosphere, impressively gloopy special effects, and unintentional hilarity have made it a beloved oddity.
So, if you’re in the mood for a horror movie where William Shatner gets his soul sucked out, Ida Lupino shuffles around with blacked-out eyes, Ernest Borgnine transforms into a goat demon while the cast melts for what feels like an eternity, The Devil’s Rain is your ticket to Satanic schlock heaven. Just don’t expect it to make sense—and don’t be surprised if you find yourself cackling right along with Borgnine as the Devil’s rain reigns down upon the screen with its nihilistic ending.
