Mark of the Devil is a great example of a film whose impact is hampered by the hype surrounding it. Though advertising materials proudly proclaim it to be "positively the most horrifying film ever made!", even the most grisly moments here never sway the movie anywhere near that dubious title, and anyone who would actually need to make use of the gimmicky stomach distress bags used to promote the film during its theatrical run wouldn't be likely to have any interest in attending this cookout to begin with.
So, surely this cavalcade of tortures is destined to fall short of the expectations it brazenly touts. Yet, despite its failure to achieve its lofty goals, Mark of the Devil is still an effective and sometimes dizzying exploitation exercise that features some truly stunning and unforgettable moments of sheer sickness that pack an extra nauseating punch when you realize that the fictionalized deeds on display are accurate approximations of events which actually unfolded during one particularly dark period of human history.
The majority of the film's most shocking content is confined to a single protracted torture sequence, but this extended and horrific set-piece ensures that Mark of the Devil won't be easily forgotten. When an accused sorceress gets her fingers maimed one by one in a vise, the camera doesn't flinch, but you probably will. The most chilling moment of the tableau is the calm disassociation of the witch-finder, who tells his young apprentice, "We must never weaken in performing God's work", just before his henchman yanks the condemned witch's tongue out of her mouth by the roots. This moment, which is depicted in nearly every poster and piece of cover art for the film, is an indelible image that can be considered the direct source of the film's infamy.
Elsewhere, Mark of the Devil has serious problems maintaining its unsavory tone. While there are several other scenes that portray the loathsome handiwork of the film's fiendish holy crusaders, these are sometimes offset by some bafflingly cheesy moments, such as the montage that cements the romantic subplot, which features our lead heroine frolicking in a meadow with Udo Kier set to the accompaniment of a '70s smooth jazz soundtrack. Likewise, the film's climactic villager uprising is scored by a piece that seems lifted from one of John Wayne's war movies, and the vengeful come-uppance doled out to some of our villains is so rushed it feels like an afterthought, unfolding far too briefly and un-spectacularly to offer much pathos.
The acting is also decidedly uneven, though the dubbing may be at least partially responsible for this. Still, two performances in particular carry the entire movie; Olivera Vuco's sultry Vanessa proves to be a spirited and engaging heroine, and Reggie Nalder's turn as Albino, a cadaverous lecher who projects cold malevolence in every frame he's in, easily steals the show.
Perhaps the most surprising aspect of Mark of the Devil is how handily the film transcends its exploitation roots by making a strong case for itself as a dramatic period piece. Though a history buff will probably spot inconsistencies, to a layman the costumes and sets are extremely well-realized, and since the film dwells on wretchedly indisputable historical facts, there's no avoiding the horror inherent in its portrayal of a society willing to disregard its humanity in favor of religious fervor. This theme remains inescapably and disturbingly current, and it becomes impossible not to think of modern-day events as we witness the hypocritical and monstrous piousness on display here.
The doubly bleak conclusion ends things on an unsettling note (sorry about the spoiler, but the bad guys ultimately win), and though things get a bit slow and talky at times, the overall effect of Mark of the Devil has a fittingly bitter aftertaste. While the film probably doesn't go far enough to satisfy the more ravenous sector of the grindhouse audience most likely to embrace it, this remains a surprisingly thoughtful essay about mankind at its worst. I'm not sure if the "cult classic" label applies here, but there's no denying that this successfully unpleasant offering makes its Mark.
So, surely this cavalcade of tortures is destined to fall short of the expectations it brazenly touts. Yet, despite its failure to achieve its lofty goals, Mark of the Devil is still an effective and sometimes dizzying exploitation exercise that features some truly stunning and unforgettable moments of sheer sickness that pack an extra nauseating punch when you realize that the fictionalized deeds on display are accurate approximations of events which actually unfolded during one particularly dark period of human history.
The majority of the film's most shocking content is confined to a single protracted torture sequence, but this extended and horrific set-piece ensures that Mark of the Devil won't be easily forgotten. When an accused sorceress gets her fingers maimed one by one in a vise, the camera doesn't flinch, but you probably will. The most chilling moment of the tableau is the calm disassociation of the witch-finder, who tells his young apprentice, "We must never weaken in performing God's work", just before his henchman yanks the condemned witch's tongue out of her mouth by the roots. This moment, which is depicted in nearly every poster and piece of cover art for the film, is an indelible image that can be considered the direct source of the film's infamy.
Elsewhere, Mark of the Devil has serious problems maintaining its unsavory tone. While there are several other scenes that portray the loathsome handiwork of the film's fiendish holy crusaders, these are sometimes offset by some bafflingly cheesy moments, such as the montage that cements the romantic subplot, which features our lead heroine frolicking in a meadow with Udo Kier set to the accompaniment of a '70s smooth jazz soundtrack. Likewise, the film's climactic villager uprising is scored by a piece that seems lifted from one of John Wayne's war movies, and the vengeful come-uppance doled out to some of our villains is so rushed it feels like an afterthought, unfolding far too briefly and un-spectacularly to offer much pathos.
The acting is also decidedly uneven, though the dubbing may be at least partially responsible for this. Still, two performances in particular carry the entire movie; Olivera Vuco's sultry Vanessa proves to be a spirited and engaging heroine, and Reggie Nalder's turn as Albino, a cadaverous lecher who projects cold malevolence in every frame he's in, easily steals the show.
Perhaps the most surprising aspect of Mark of the Devil is how handily the film transcends its exploitation roots by making a strong case for itself as a dramatic period piece. Though a history buff will probably spot inconsistencies, to a layman the costumes and sets are extremely well-realized, and since the film dwells on wretchedly indisputable historical facts, there's no avoiding the horror inherent in its portrayal of a society willing to disregard its humanity in favor of religious fervor. This theme remains inescapably and disturbingly current, and it becomes impossible not to think of modern-day events as we witness the hypocritical and monstrous piousness on display here.
The doubly bleak conclusion ends things on an unsettling note (sorry about the spoiler, but the bad guys ultimately win), and though things get a bit slow and talky at times, the overall effect of Mark of the Devil has a fittingly bitter aftertaste. While the film probably doesn't go far enough to satisfy the more ravenous sector of the grindhouse audience most likely to embrace it, this remains a surprisingly thoughtful essay about mankind at its worst. I'm not sure if the "cult classic" label applies here, but there's no denying that this successfully unpleasant offering makes its Mark.