Starring High Priest Peter A. Gilmore, High Priestess Peggy Nadramia and Magistra Blanche Barton
Written and directed by Scott Cummings
Monument Releasing
The Church of Satan may not be singlehandedly responsible for the aesthetic that we associate with American diabolism, but its self-conscious approach to enacting its philosophy of Nietzschean hedonism certainly helped hone it to a dagger point. Its founder, Anton LaVey, a consummately flamboyant showman who worked as a carnival organist in his youth and briefly kept a pet lion in his San Francisco home, promoted the idea of fantasy as fundamental to personal liberation in all its forms. The church he started in 1966 is inseparable from the dark visuals he created, drawing on everything from ‘40s Universal horror, ‘50s kinky pin-up kitsch and ‘60s acid rock to create one of the looks we associate with goths today.
In their first few decades, the Church of Satan promoted itself as broadly as possible, from spreads in women’s magazines to spooky appearances on talk shows and to participation in documentaries like Satanis: The Devil’s Mass. You may not have heard of the latter, but if you’re reading RUE MORGUE, you’ve almost certainly seen clips in documentaries on the occult or the Satanic Panic. In Scott Cummings’ debut feature documentary, REALM OF SATAN, made in full collaboration with the Church, this iconography is the subject, the object and the project all at once.
True to the sardonic spirit of the group, this eighty minute collage-style portrait is confidently composed almost entirely of silent tableaus that conjure the psychic landscape of Satanism without offering any explanation, building out the visual repertoire rather than deconstructing it. A woman in a Bettie Page style nightie sleeps with her pet raven perched on her hip; a tall man with a long goatee smelts a sword; a shirtless magician does card tricks in his bedroom; a Black Mass is held in another room off screen; people in gimp suits pose for an orgiastic photoshoot; two women make out while their motorcycle revs in the foreground; everyone stares into the camera, blank, seductive or satisfied in turns. The landscape is both luxurious (Satanism is an overtly capitalistic philosophy) and campy (sometimes masculinist displays of wealth can be incredibly goofy, though Halloween store kitsch also abounds), with muscle cars, brandy snifters and plastic skulls sharing equal space.
This quiet, experimental documentary by the editor of indie standouts like Never Rarely Sometimes Always is a part of a strain of image-conscious filmmaking honed by Lance Oppenheim (this film was produced by his Some Kind of Heaven collaborator Pacho Velez, who also produced The Reagan Show, as well as Caitlin Mae Burke of Obit), and it’s most striking for its self-assuredness. The setups are clean, the editing methodical, setting its own pace without condescending its audience’s attention span. The vignettes are alternatingly surreal and quotidian, but the distanced effect isn’t Brechtian or voyeuristic. If anything, this film is a self-conscious exercise in exhibitionism, inviting the viewer to immerse themselves in the Satanic headspace on the practitioners’ terms–and if this is a yardstick for a film’s success (LaVey would certainly think so) they definitely seem cool. About a quarter of the way into the film, we hear the first of a handful of dialogue. It’s a thesis statement, but it’s also a tease: “We’re creating a total environment,” a man says on TV as a Satanist watches another documentary on Satanists. “You’re your own God.”
REALM OF SATAN will be available on streaming platforms beginning September 2nd.
