The sad truth is that independent films – and even Folk Horror, in general – are, ultimately, not for everyone.
The stories can be a bit odd at times, never quite feeling as if the storytellers wanted to explore anything greater than a single note or beat. Though such flicks used to be populated with second tier stars and starlets trying to stretch creatively if not approach something completely different, these projects seem to have fallen on hard times: very few of them see the light of day any more – a sad fact that might be owed to the presence of so many unknown, untried, untested, and unproven talents – or they wind up in the direct-to-DVD video bin at your local big box discount store. Film festivals across the fruited plain still manage to serve them up when given the chance; but even those outlets have fallen into disarray as many organizers just can’t quite seem to muster the funds to see them continued in modern times.
Just as indie features can be a bit hard-to-swallow, Folk Horror can be an ‘acquired taste.’ Bits and pieces of their stories need to be defined in order to be fully grasped and appreciated; and not every viewer who buys a ticket is all that much interested in ‘learning’ as opposed to be sufficiently ‘entertained.’ It’s a unique sub-genre that knows no bounds because its parameters can be expanded to new frontiers so long as the core foundation sticks close to rural settings, superstitions, community or even communal settings, and other related things that go bump in the night. When full-blown Horror can be immensely popular, Folk counterparts tend to be a bit quieter, a bit more reserved, a bit less bloody … and much more thought-provoking.
Thankfully, there are a handful of great distributors out there – like those at Severin Films – who refuse to let experimental and independent cinema die; and they’ve awarded me a fabulously expansive set – All The Haunts Be Ours: A Compendium Of Folk Horror Volume 2 – that I’ve really only begun scratching the surface of.
Today’s fright: 1972’s Who Fears The Devil might be better known under its alternate title, The Legend Of Hillbilly John. At least, I’d heard of it under that name, but I still had never seen it. That’s been rectified now; and while I may not feel any more cultured for having done so I still respect the effort minimally for what the film may’ve meant to its respective moment in history. Devil is that rare flick that belongs to another time and another place right down to its seams, and it shows. While that fact may not be enough reason to grant it any special endorsement, the unintended laughs resulting from backwoods depiction might be.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
The stories can be a bit odd at times, never quite feeling as if the storytellers wanted to explore anything greater than a single note or beat. Though such flicks used to be populated with second tier stars and starlets trying to stretch creatively if not approach something completely different, these projects seem to have fallen on hard times: very few of them see the light of day any more – a sad fact that might be owed to the presence of so many unknown, untried, untested, and unproven talents – or they wind up in the direct-to-DVD video bin at your local big box discount store. Film festivals across the fruited plain still manage to serve them up when given the chance; but even those outlets have fallen into disarray as many organizers just can’t quite seem to muster the funds to see them continued in modern times.
Just as indie features can be a bit hard-to-swallow, Folk Horror can be an ‘acquired taste.’ Bits and pieces of their stories need to be defined in order to be fully grasped and appreciated; and not every viewer who buys a ticket is all that much interested in ‘learning’ as opposed to be sufficiently ‘entertained.’ It’s a unique sub-genre that knows no bounds because its parameters can be expanded to new frontiers so long as the core foundation sticks close to rural settings, superstitions, community or even communal settings, and other related things that go bump in the night. When full-blown Horror can be immensely popular, Folk counterparts tend to be a bit quieter, a bit more reserved, a bit less bloody … and much more thought-provoking.
Thankfully, there are a handful of great distributors out there – like those at Severin Films – who refuse to let experimental and independent cinema die; and they’ve awarded me a fabulously expansive set – All The Haunts Be Ours: A Compendium Of Folk Horror Volume 2 – that I’ve really only begun scratching the surface of.
Today’s fright: 1972’s Who Fears The Devil might be better known under its alternate title, The Legend Of Hillbilly John. At least, I’d heard of it under that name, but I still had never seen it. That’s been rectified now; and while I may not feel any more cultured for having done so I still respect the effort minimally for what the film may’ve meant to its respective moment in history. Devil is that rare flick that belongs to another time and another place right down to its seams, and it shows. While that fact may not be enough reason to grant it any special endorsement, the unintended laughs resulting from backwoods depiction might be.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“A wandering ballad singer in the Appalachians meets an ugly bird-type creature, is transported back in time, finds himself involved in the Devil's work.”
Having seen so many films and having written about so many, I do still struggle occasionally with finding something to say about a particular feature. While some have told me this is a textbook case of writer’s block, I’ve pushed back, clarifying that it isn’t as if I come out of any screening with my head perfectly empty; rather, it’s a flick’s inability to cohesively ping somewhere in my gray matter – there’s no memorable hook, there’s no significant character, there’s no central message or theme, etc. – that causes me to stumble. Such a disconnect doesn’t last for long, thankfully: sometimes it can be cathartic just sitting down at the laptop and plunking keys.
The shortcomings of Who Fears The Devil are – ahem – quite numerous. Setting aside some of the more obvious ones like the change in film texture, the uninspired cinematography, the befuddling amateurishness of its presentation (even from some notable faces), one’s still left with the fact that it’s a simple yarn about a simple people who, simply, aren’t all that interesting. While this doesn’t detract so much from the world that screenwriter Melvin Levy tried to craft from the Manly Wade Wellman novel, I’m still not entirely certain director John Newland led with his best foot forward.
John (played by Hedges Capers) is a wandering soul – not so much a simpleton as he is a down home type with not a care in the world except to sing the songs he writes and, perchance, take down the Devil in whatever form he takes – and he’s living his best life strumming a guitar, crooning his folk tunes, and fornicating in the woods with Lily (Sharon Henesy). But when the forces of darkness converge on his part of the Appalachian backwoods – such as the mighty machines pressing down the Earth in order to pave an all-new six-lane highway – John will rise up, write some his best works, and maybe even step through a portal into the past in his bid to undo the days of Pennsylvania slavery!
Ah … good grief.
Those of you who were raised on mythology know that it was someone as impressive as Hercules – the son of a God – who was tasked with completing his labors; and there’s nothing intrinsically wrong with giving the same life’s mission to someone as wholesome as young John. The singer is about as impressionable as they come. He certainly wears his heart on his sleeve. There’s no doubting his commitment to living a good and gracious life. In fact, John – as a character – represents a great many kindred spirits who emerged from the late 1960’s and the early 1970’s: that virtuous, free lovin’ hippie/musician who wanted to live a life day-by-day in pursuit of whatever form social justice of the day asked of him (or her).
“A wandering ballad singer in the Appalachians meets an ugly bird-type creature, is transported back in time, finds himself involved in the Devil's work.”
Having seen so many films and having written about so many, I do still struggle occasionally with finding something to say about a particular feature. While some have told me this is a textbook case of writer’s block, I’ve pushed back, clarifying that it isn’t as if I come out of any screening with my head perfectly empty; rather, it’s a flick’s inability to cohesively ping somewhere in my gray matter – there’s no memorable hook, there’s no significant character, there’s no central message or theme, etc. – that causes me to stumble. Such a disconnect doesn’t last for long, thankfully: sometimes it can be cathartic just sitting down at the laptop and plunking keys.
The shortcomings of Who Fears The Devil are – ahem – quite numerous. Setting aside some of the more obvious ones like the change in film texture, the uninspired cinematography, the befuddling amateurishness of its presentation (even from some notable faces), one’s still left with the fact that it’s a simple yarn about a simple people who, simply, aren’t all that interesting. While this doesn’t detract so much from the world that screenwriter Melvin Levy tried to craft from the Manly Wade Wellman novel, I’m still not entirely certain director John Newland led with his best foot forward.
John (played by Hedges Capers) is a wandering soul – not so much a simpleton as he is a down home type with not a care in the world except to sing the songs he writes and, perchance, take down the Devil in whatever form he takes – and he’s living his best life strumming a guitar, crooning his folk tunes, and fornicating in the woods with Lily (Sharon Henesy). But when the forces of darkness converge on his part of the Appalachian backwoods – such as the mighty machines pressing down the Earth in order to pave an all-new six-lane highway – John will rise up, write some his best works, and maybe even step through a portal into the past in his bid to undo the days of Pennsylvania slavery!
Ah … good grief.
Those of you who were raised on mythology know that it was someone as impressive as Hercules – the son of a God – who was tasked with completing his labors; and there’s nothing intrinsically wrong with giving the same life’s mission to someone as wholesome as young John. The singer is about as impressionable as they come. He certainly wears his heart on his sleeve. There’s no doubting his commitment to living a good and gracious life. In fact, John – as a character – represents a great many kindred spirits who emerged from the late 1960’s and the early 1970’s: that virtuous, free lovin’ hippie/musician who wanted to live a life day-by-day in pursuit of whatever form social justice of the day asked of him (or her).
Whereas Hercules accomplished his deeds with brain and brawn, John pretty much is limited to singing a single tune, which is why so much of his soundtrack is pretty much interchangeable. It’s all delivered with toe-tapping goodness, and there’s nothing all that distinctive about any of the melodies. Both archetypes might share a level of one dimensionality, but John still isn’t opposed to clubbing the life out of a mighty evil fowl known as ‘Big Ugly’ or ‘Ugly Bird’ when given the chance. And, yes, he does that with the same guitar in which he sings about peace, love, and understanding … sorely, the clubbing sequence gets no singular ditty … which I take as a big miss.
The central problem – in spite of the fact that there could be many successive ones which spring off – is that John – as the protagonist – is really little more than a caricature drawn effectively from a certain time and a certain place in U.S. history.
He’s the free-spirited flower child whose only grievance is what troubles him today. “Don’t let the man get you down, you know? He’ll only be the man as long as you let him!” Because the dark influences of his time and place grow and change, the villain – the man, the Devil, call it what you will – John perseveres, staying true to his counterculture core and rising up to fight (in song) these new forces of oppression when they evolve. He loves himself. He loves his world. He loves his gal. Why, he loves all! Nothing will stop his desire to love! Nothing! Though he does not change – hell, he might even be incapable of change – he’ll make the thinnest of adjustments necessary to fight tomorrow’s evil but never sacrifice his time spent just with himself and his guitar. (Luke Skywalker had his lightsaber, and Hillbilly John has his acoustics.) A peacenik to his DNA, all that matters most is that he keep singing … because singing is the way of the future, don’t you know?
Of course, some of this is exaggeration, and I truly mean no disrespect. Who Fears is structured like three short stories strung together around our lead as a mythic centerpiece; and – to be perfectly fair – John is only a participant or an observer in a fair share of the action, almost as if he’s along for the ride as little more than a cautionary voice. When others suffer an untimely ending, that’s really only fodder to serve as fertilizer for the singer’s next tune. Both he and Mr. Marduke (Severn Darden) are constructs who help move these separate stories forward, and a good portion of the procedure feels little more than a backwater fairy tale that Appalachian mothers and fathers might’ve told their children at bedtime. It works appreciably on the level (in a few spots), though the whole premise lacks any narrative weight because of the primitive execution.
The central problem – in spite of the fact that there could be many successive ones which spring off – is that John – as the protagonist – is really little more than a caricature drawn effectively from a certain time and a certain place in U.S. history.
He’s the free-spirited flower child whose only grievance is what troubles him today. “Don’t let the man get you down, you know? He’ll only be the man as long as you let him!” Because the dark influences of his time and place grow and change, the villain – the man, the Devil, call it what you will – John perseveres, staying true to his counterculture core and rising up to fight (in song) these new forces of oppression when they evolve. He loves himself. He loves his world. He loves his gal. Why, he loves all! Nothing will stop his desire to love! Nothing! Though he does not change – hell, he might even be incapable of change – he’ll make the thinnest of adjustments necessary to fight tomorrow’s evil but never sacrifice his time spent just with himself and his guitar. (Luke Skywalker had his lightsaber, and Hillbilly John has his acoustics.) A peacenik to his DNA, all that matters most is that he keep singing … because singing is the way of the future, don’t you know?
Of course, some of this is exaggeration, and I truly mean no disrespect. Who Fears is structured like three short stories strung together around our lead as a mythic centerpiece; and – to be perfectly fair – John is only a participant or an observer in a fair share of the action, almost as if he’s along for the ride as little more than a cautionary voice. When others suffer an untimely ending, that’s really only fodder to serve as fertilizer for the singer’s next tune. Both he and Mr. Marduke (Severn Darden) are constructs who help move these separate stories forward, and a good portion of the procedure feels little more than a backwater fairy tale that Appalachian mothers and fathers might’ve told their children at bedtime. It works appreciably on the level (in a few spots), though the whole premise lacks any narrative weight because of the primitive execution.
For the record, this little forgotten tale actually involves a great number of familiar faces. (Yes, it’s a shame that most of their effort feels wasted.) Producer Barney Rosenzweig is no slouch, and he went on to be a very accomplished voice in primetime television. While Capers wasn’t exactly an unknown and has a great singing voice, he still gives the picture his full attention even in the smallest moments. But the wider cast includes some established players from the era who had done or were still doing great things, including Denver Pyle, Harris Yulin, Susan Anspach, Alfred Ryder, and R.G. Armstrong, veteran character actors and actresses if every there were. Sadly, the end result remains the same, but it’s not – as they say – for a lack of talent.
Who Fears The Devil (1972) was produced by Two’s Company. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Severin Films. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert … geesh. The film quality varies as so many different places across the story – it’s occasionally bright and vibrant, only to then dip into very flat and washed out colors – that it’s hard to give this one anything other than a respectable attempt. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? The disc boasts an audio commentary and a few other items, but what I found most interested was a 30-minute interview with producer Barney Rosenzweig: his memory is pretty solid, and he details the struggles – both the highs and lows – of the production. Adding to the fact that he’s just a delightful guy to listen to, and this makes for a must-see … even when he’s admitting that Who Fears really didn’t turn out the way he wanted. A truly great and informative extra.
Alas … only Barely Recommended.
In most cases, one might encourage folks to view an oddity like Who Fears The Devil (1972) for nothing more than novelty’s sake: it’s clear that many in an audience will have seen nothing like it – accidentally or deliberately – and that might be enough motivation to spur a curious one to pop it in and give the disc a spin. My hesitancy there, however, is that come the big finish what has been gained except to experience a peculiarity for “shits and giggles,” as they say? Very little is learned here, and the performances, cinematography, and overall effort is so quaint is best left to those who traffic in Hicksploitation as, otherwise, there’s just so very little redeeming traits here. It’s not a complete catastrophe … but it’s close.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Severin Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of 1972’s Who Fears The Devil (aka The Legend Of Hillbilly John) by request – as part of their All The Haunts Be Ours: A Compendium Of Folk Horror Vol. 2 – for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
Who Fears The Devil (1972) was produced by Two’s Company. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Severin Films. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert … geesh. The film quality varies as so many different places across the story – it’s occasionally bright and vibrant, only to then dip into very flat and washed out colors – that it’s hard to give this one anything other than a respectable attempt. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? The disc boasts an audio commentary and a few other items, but what I found most interested was a 30-minute interview with producer Barney Rosenzweig: his memory is pretty solid, and he details the struggles – both the highs and lows – of the production. Adding to the fact that he’s just a delightful guy to listen to, and this makes for a must-see … even when he’s admitting that Who Fears really didn’t turn out the way he wanted. A truly great and informative extra.
Alas … only Barely Recommended.
In most cases, one might encourage folks to view an oddity like Who Fears The Devil (1972) for nothing more than novelty’s sake: it’s clear that many in an audience will have seen nothing like it – accidentally or deliberately – and that might be enough motivation to spur a curious one to pop it in and give the disc a spin. My hesitancy there, however, is that come the big finish what has been gained except to experience a peculiarity for “shits and giggles,” as they say? Very little is learned here, and the performances, cinematography, and overall effort is so quaint is best left to those who traffic in Hicksploitation as, otherwise, there’s just so very little redeeming traits here. It’s not a complete catastrophe … but it’s close.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Severin Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of 1972’s Who Fears The Devil (aka The Legend Of Hillbilly John) by request – as part of their All The Haunts Be Ours: A Compendium Of Folk Horror Vol. 2 – for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
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