The brothers behind Aussie cult horror-comedy 100 Bloody Acres, Colin and Cameron Cairnes return to the uneasy balance of genres for Late Night with the Devil—and they throw in a new one for good measure. Not content to simply be charmingly hacky or tightly gruesome, Late Night with the Devil is also a great movie about (and existing within the form of) talk shows. Thanks to its commitment to the ‘70s made-for-TV bit, ever-escalating stakes and nervously swaggering lead performance, the ratings ploy from Hell finds substance inside its shtick.
Much of that is due to David Dastmalchian, who was born for the role of an underdog late-night host, occupying the uneasy space between slick smarm, hungry entitlement and genuine empathy. His piercing eyes and faltering smile persist through the patter and the cue cards. He’s half-charming, deeply fake, his mediocrity tinged with sadness. Eventually, his slimy confidence sloughs away to reveal credulous, abject panic. Dastmalchian’s a captivating performer, especially in genre film where his characters’ tics and imperfections (often conveyed through his deep, sad stare, darkened under his heavy eyebrows) ground the over-the-top goings-on. When it’s clear that his Jack Delroy has brought something he could never hope to understand—let alone control—onto his flagging program Night Owls as a final resort, we’re plummeting on the roller coaster right alongside him.
That “something” he finds is Lilly (Ingrid Torelli), a blonde goodie-goodie who became the subject of a book by Dr. June Ross-Mitchell (Laura Gordon) when she survived a Satanic cult…and (possibly) kept a metaphysical souvenir inside of her. Delroy programmed Lilly and Ross-Mitchell as guests of a supernatural special episode alongside a pair of instantly recognizable tabloid talk show staples: Mononymic psychic Christou (Fayssal Bazzi) and Carmichael the Conjurer (Ian Bliss), a James Randi-like showman-turned-skeptic whose theatricality has curdled into pompous self-righteousness. Delroy harbors his own relationship to the otherworldly, and it all comes to a head during Late Night with the Devil’s very poorly planned Halloween night extravaganza.
The Cairnes’ dedication to their garish beige-and-rainbow set and its stagecraft—which we travel in front of, behind and around through their pseudo-real-time combination of broadcast and found footage—envelops you in Late Night with the Devil’s exploitative environment. It’s not just that cinematographer Matthew Temple conducts us convincingly around the production, nor just that the Cairnes’ editing weaves its shifts in aspect ratios into a visually lurching dream. It’s that, on top of how Late Night with the Devil looks, it still feels true.
Our present ecosystem of reality TV and social media influencers grants the period piece’s pervasive toxicity extra oomph as we recall the devolution brought on by the survival of the schlockiest, as Johnny Carson inspired Les Crane, which in turn led to everything from Jerry Springer to WorldStarHipHop and fake news. Controversy for attention, desperate and sad as it is, persists—viewership has just shifted to clicks, retweets, views and site traffic. This ogling trajectory has been satirizing countless times; Weird Al’s version in UHF, where the show Town Talk interviewed Satan, is perhaps most relevant here. We’re primed and ready to see a variety show of oddballs trotted out for America’s perverse pleasure, just like we’ve always been. Only, in Late Night with the Devil’s late ‘70s, the woo-woo crowd is as big as the collars and Satanic panic is right around the corner. And people will make any deal to stay in the spotlight. This state of precarious, open-minded desperation is the perfect lure for something powerful to take advantage.
We’re told upfront that unimaginable tragedy struck, but there’s a greater sense of media-savvy doom hanging over Late Night with the Devil. Add in some no-holds-barred gore and a supporting cast chewing the scenery, and you’ve got yourself a winning midnight staple—no musical guest necessary. Also, c’mon. If you throw in the owl mask from Stage Fright, I’m basically yours to lose. That said, at a certain point, it feels like the Cairnes are loosely holding onto the reins of their psychedelic nightmare run amok, the static interruptions in the image clarity reinforcing this loss of control. The chaos takes away from the strong formal conceit of Late Night with the Devil—this fun-not-scary horror (despite clear nods to The Exorcist) is best when leaning into its clever live-on-air format. But when it’s sticking to its satirical script and reminding us to stay tuned for what we know will be a hell of a finale, it’s hard not to stay glued to the screen.
Director: Colin Cairnes, Cameron Cairnes
Writer: Colin Cairnes, Cameron Cairnes
Starring: David Dastmalchian, Laura Gordon, Ian Bliss, Fayssal Bazzi
Release Date: March 22, 2024
Jacob Oller is Movies Editor at Paste Magazine. You can follow him on Twitter at @jacoboller.
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