“Ladies and gentlemen please stay tuned for a live television first, as we attempt to commune with the Devil… But not before a word from our sponsors.”
With these words I knew I’d discovered one of the rarer marsupials: a new Australian film with a sense of humour. It may be considered ironic that we’re talking about a horror movie, with the obligatory gore and creeping menace, but it’s easy to forget that horror and comedy are old flames who can’t stay away from each other.
Written and directed by two hefty brothers from Brisbane, Colin and Cameron Cairnes, Late Night with the Devil is both ingenious and clumsy. Ingenious because the idea of framing an entire film in the format of a late-night variety show makes for compulsive viewing. There’s not a moment when one isn’t eager to know what’s going to happen next, a feeling accentuated by the commercial breaks that punctuate the action.
The clumsy bit is the conceit that the entire film consists of “found footage” from the vaults of an American TV station for the night of Halloweeen, 1977. That may be fine for the actual program but it’s hard to believe anyone would be elaborately filming the characters’ private conversations during the commercials. The Cairnes brothers obviously knew this was out of line, but they did it anyway, feeling that it helped flesh out the story, and hoping we wouldn’t notice. That’s a vain ambition but it’s another matter entirely whether we’re pedantic enough to care about such things. The narrative moves so quickly most viewers won’t give it a second thought.
Another slightly clumsy tactic is an introductory newsreel montage of America in the 1970s that shows us what a crazy, mixed-up place it was… not at all like today. This prologue sets the scene in the most condensed fashion, moving on to give us the lowdown on Jack Delroy (David Dastmalchian), the host of late-night talk show, Night Owls. In about two minutes we learn how Jack, who began on a local Chicago station before taking the program nationwide, has spent his entire career trying – and failing – to beat Johnny Carson in the ratings. We hear about Jack’s fairytale marriage to Madeleine (Georgina Haig), who died of cancer, days after a poignant final appearance on the show. There’s also a heavy-handed reference to Jack’s membership of an exclusive men’s club, in which celebrities and captains of industry meet in a secluded location among “the tall trees”, where they are rumoured to partake of occult rituals. And so the Faustian bargain is hinted at – wink, wink, nudge, nudge.
As scene-setting goes, this is almost too much information. The brothers could have left a little more to the viewer’s imagination, or at least allowed this material to emerge in a gradual fashion as the story unfolds. Instead, they’ve taken a short cut, ensuring this film will be a slick 90 minutes, defying the tendency for features to get longer and longer.
Once again, it’s not a hanging offence, as the spoof of a 1970s variety show is so perfect one can feel the fun they’ve had putting this script together. It’s the work of two minds that must have been exposed to far too much television at an early age. The bad jokes, the banter between Jack and his frontman, Gus (Rhys Auteri); the manner of addressing the studio audience and viewers at home – it’s a perfect match for the late-night format, one of TV’s most punishing and competitive routines.
As the show begins, the real horror for Jack is his persistent inability to win the ratings war, and the anxiety that the studio is losing patience with his failures. Madeleine’s tear-jerking farewell gave him a huge boost, but now he needs a hit. Together with his reptilian producer, Leo (Josh Quong Tart), he’s come up with an all-star program for Halloween: a medium, a professional conjurer turned sceptic, a parapsychologist and her ward – a 13-year-old girl allegedly possessed by a demon. We know this is going to end badly, the suspense hangs on the way the program will unravel.
First up is a flashy medium named Christou (Fayssal Bazzi), whose act falters but makes a good recovery. There is, however, something that’s disturbing this charlatan, something inducing mental and physical mayhem. Christou’s discomfort is brought to a head by the next guest, the acerbic Carmichael Haig, a former stage magician who believes the occult is all show-business and isn’t shy about acting on his convictions.
The aggressive Haig, played by Ian Bliss, is transparently based on James Randi, who often appeared on the Johnny Carson Show, where he became famous for his take-down of the spoon-bending Uri Geller. The friction generated by this obnxious debunker throughout the program keeps everything on the boil.
Haig is on the attack immediately when the star turn of the evening appears: June Ross-Mitchell (Laura Gordon), an academic who ‘scientifically’ investigates the paranormal, and Lilly (Ingrid Torelli), who was rescued as a baby from a house in which a satanic cult committed mass suicide. The consequence of her strange upbringing is that Lilly is allegedly possessed by a demon, that June – who has become the girl’s guardian – struggles to control.
While June comes across as the most normal of all the guests, Lilly is a very creepy proposition. Pretty, fresh-faced, chirpy, she almost skips to her chair. The only thing missing is a set of pigtails. From the beginning she speaks to Jack in an overly familiar manner, vaguely sexualised, hinting that she knows something he doesn’t. Jack’s sexual interest is June, but Lilly throws him off balance. It’s only the promise of ratings glory that compells him to push proceedings to the limit. He prevails upon a reluctant June to raise the demon, whom Lilly calls “Mr. Wiggles”. After a word from our sponsor.
I won’t go to the limits myself, but the realisation of Jack’s Faustian bargain on live TV is spectacular and surreal. Rather than the denouement, I’ll say a few words about the casting, which could hardly be bettered – from Bazzi’s flamboyant Christou to Bliss’s obnoxious Haig; Rhys Auteri’s phlegmatic Gus; Quong Tart’s slimy Leo; Gordon’s June who feels herself getting dragged into a mess she fears and resents; and Torelli’s Lilly, who would be equally at home in Little Women or an Italian giallo. These are all Australian actors mostly playing Americans.
David Dastmalchian, the only genuine American in sight, has grasped this chance to play the lead after dozens of supporting roles. The finesse of his performance lies in his ability to appear completely superficial in front of an audience, while mouthing the most effusive sentiments and the worst gags. All the time, we are conscious of a growing mixture of unease and ambition beneath Jack’s façade. It’s conveyed by a flicker in his eyes, a twist of his mouth. The ultimate ratings triumph is within Jack’s grasp, and he’ll do anything to achieve it. The danger is that the apotheosis of his career will also be its apocalypse. One hopes the Fox News people are watching.
Late Night with the Devil
Written & directed by Colin & Cameron Cairnes
Starring: David Dastmalchian, Laura Gordon, Ian Bliss, Fayassi Bazzi, Ingrid Torelli, Rhys Auteri, Georgina Haig, Josh Quong Tart, Steve Mouzakis, Gaby Seow, Christopher Kirby
Australia/UAE/USA, MA 15+, 92 mins
Published in the Australian Financial Review, 20 April, 2024