He’s the ultimate villain, the cosmic and spiritual essence of evil. An instigator, a scapegoat, the darkest enemy of all things good and holy, he skulks around society in whatever form he wishes to adopt. A derelict. A dog. A little girl. When bad things happen, he’s to blame. Bad people are out there in the world performing terrible actions, so they must be under his influence. He speaks backward on rock and roll albums, pulling innocent youth into his writhing circle of the damned. He pours his spirit into the weak and vulnerable, controlling their thoughts and actions. Repulsive and compelling, no wonder filmmakers have been obsessed with putting Satan on screen.
Showing Satan in the movies isn’t a modern movement, despite there being so many demonic possession movies they make up their own sub-genre. Long before The Exorcist hit theaters in 1973 and put the fear of God back into impious audiences, filmmakers were creating personal artistic versions of the Devil.
Many consider Georges Melies’ Le Manoir du Diable (The House of the Devil) the first horror movie. Released in 1896 and clocking in at fewer than four minutes, the film highlights Melies’ penchant for in-camera special effects. Items appear and disappear in puffs of smoke. Satan serves as the catalyst for the action, functioning as a mischievous sorcerer. With a hunchbacked imp as his assistant, the Devil confounds a pair of sword-wielding visitors with his constant tricks. It is not until the Devil is confronted by a large piece of Christian symbolism that his cavorting ends.
Le Manoir du Diable isn’t scary but a giant bat and a skeleton make spooky appearances. There is also a group of witches, shrouded in white and carrying brooms, that surround the visitor and prevent his escape. Faceless and malevolent, the witches are a precursor to the 1970s glut of Satanic cult movies in which devotees stand around a fire, anonymous and hidden, ready to stand on business for the Dark Lord.
Gaston Velle’s The Infernal Cave shows a different kind of Satan. Lithe and athletic, horns protruding from his mad head, the Devil prances about in a shiny leotard. He summons women with demon wings from the fiery depths. They shimmy about in a literal dance with the Devil before he uses his powers to drop them into a giant crucible. He gleefully burns the women until there is nothing left but red ash, which he pours back into hell.
It’s a terrible fate for the dancing girls, but they were already in hell. It wasn’t going to get any better. While Satan does awful things in The Infernal Cave, he does them with a flamboyant panache not often seen in Devil movies. He has utterly embraced his badness, so comfortable in his skin that he must express his evil through the poetic glory of interpretive dance.
In 1922, the filmed depiction of Satan took a decided turn to the horrific. Danish director Benjamin Christensen’s silent classic Haxan: Witchcraft Through the Ages is a grubby affair. Characters live in poverty, filth, and mud (except, of course, for the favored clergy). Haxan presents the dark arts as the product of a class struggle where witchcraft is seen as the way for commoners to exert power over their existence. They clamor for Satan to fulfill their wishes because the upper classes certainly won’t.
Christensen presents Satan as a hirsute, horned brute who demands fealty through murder and degradation. In the famous Black Mass scene, mendicants fall in line to kiss the Devil on his wicked behind. Satan also haunts the richer portions of society, leaping out at clergy members and seducing young lovers. In every social strata, the Devil waits for his chance to cause trouble, suffering, and strife.
Whether portrayed as a bumbling, comic figure or the diabolical master of evil, the Devil has been a constant presence in films for over 100 years. His powers may wax and wane depending on the movie, but the character of Satan remains open to interpretation. If nothing else, Satan is a handy template for villainy and reprehensible behavior, the taproot of temptation, and the inspiration for hundreds of stories, both real and imaginary.