The Devil's Men

Well, pardon me for being excited at the prospect of watching Donald Pleasence and Peter Cushing in a '70s horror film. It does not take long to see why this film, titled "Land of the Minotaur" in the US but also possessing the horrendous title "The Devil's Men", is not more widely seen today or spoken about. It is such a dull film lacking in scares, drama and any other sort of talent that it is a wonder that Cushing and Pleasence were even in it. It has to have been a good pay-day for them. In fact, the entire budget must have went towards securing their contracts, because evidently there was nothing else left by the time they went to shoot this absolute borefest. Nothing happens, and there is nothing of interest apart from the banter between the priest and the PI, that swings between jovial and nasty. The director must have slept his way through the film, the editor had nothing to do because the film gives the impression that what was shot as quickly as possible and stuck together. Every single trope you can think of from Satantic horror films makes its way in here, and is done in a way that the film-makers shrugged and said "They've seen it before, why bother making an effort or putting a new spin on it?" I am surprised of Cushing and Pleasence not being able to see through this one when they were approached.

The Devil's Men represents what turned out to be one of the last gasps of the occult obsessed horror scene of the 70's shortly before Halloween came along, tore up the rule book, set fire to it and kicked it screaming through a plate glass window.

To cut a long story short a couple of enterprising Greek film makers fancy their chances of nailing together a new film franchise featuring the unlikely double act of womanising, wise talking American investigator Milo and stuffy but kind hearted priest Father Roche. An exiled nobleman is mixed up in some satanic jiggery pokery - offering up tourists as sacrifices to an extremely unfrightening effigy of the minotaur and only Milo and Roche can stop him!

Or something like that.

The reality is however horribly dull, frustrating and loaded with wasted opportunities. I strongly suspect that the fledgling film makers blew most of the budget on getting Donald Plesance, Peter Cushing and Brian Eno (for the soundtrack) onboard and hoped that would be enough to sway audiences in the English speaking world.

It isn't. The Devil's Men looks beautiful with assured, camera-work and fantastic locations. Eno's score, though basically just a one chord drone that he probably cranked out in an afternoon is suitably atmospheric and the movie is laden with cracking 70's crumpet including that Austrailian sort from Fawlty Towers and uber hottie Jane Lyle of Island of Death infamy. But there the positives end. Cushing sleepwalks through it, looking like he has a corn cob up his bum and Pleasance fusses about trying his best, but never quite getting things right. To make matters worse the character of Milo is appallingly flimsy and unlikeable.

Okay, so it doesn't look that good. But from there the film simply refuses to go anywhere. There is an insinuation that the local villagers are possessed, but to be fair to them, they never really do anything very much other than shuffle about looking glassy eyed. Perhaps they were just tired? Just when you are sure things will come to some kind of a head Milo and Roche interrupt the Baron's satanic party with laughable ease, sending him on to meet his maker. The statue of the minotaur falls silent and hey presto! Satan is defeated.

Yeah right.

The inane optimism that The Devil's Men might be the first of a series of films is hammered home by Father Roche's final line mere seconds before the ridiculously rushed ending.

"Who knows Milo? Perhaps one day I may call upon you again to help defeat the Antichrist."

I'm sure you'll be putting that call in any day now Donald.

"The Devil's Men" (aka "Land of the Minotaur") is by no means a masterpiece, but very few horror films are. While there are good ones and bad ones, ultimately they're nothing more than *fantasies*--they ask you to suspend your disbelief. Horror films are not (or should not be) judged according to the same criteria as "Citizen Kane". Think "The Devil's Men" is bad horror? See "Ghost Story" and learn how the genre can be reduced to a pathetic cartoon (despite a big budget and a good cast). Think this is a low point in Peter Cushing's career? See "The Blood Beast Terror". This film actually has a lot going for it: strong performances from Cushing and Donald Pleasence (Cushing is particularly great in one of his few downright villainous roles), an eerie synthetic score by Brian Eno, and fine cinematography. It does get a bit dull in spots, but I haven't seen many movies that didn't. Director Kostas Karagiannis knew how to establish the proper mood for a film of this kind: witness the scene in which Pleasence, as the village priest, walks from his living quarters to the church to pray. He's a small figure in the immensely old, pagan landscape of Greece, which seems ready to swallow him up (and Eno's cue for the scene underscores this threatening feeling). Young horror auteurs, take note: it's little things like this that give the viewer a sense of unease. If, on the other hand, you just want to make the viewer feel sick or laugh, you'll bombard him with severed limbs and intestines. "The Devil's Men" is no award winner, but it's a creepy little film that's fun to watch. Its reputation as a bomb is undeserved.

The Devil's Men. A Satanic cult led by horror legend Peter Cushing are committing human sacrifice to a Minotaur figure in rural Greece and it's down to priest Donald Pleasence (another horror legend) and his friend from New York to put an end to it. I've read mainly negatives about this movie and it certainly has flaws. For a start Cushing looked to me like he was merely going through the motions. Pleasence played an Irish man but his accent kept slipping. Having an interest in the occult I felt that there was a lack of information about the cult, it's beliefs, origins, etc. And the finale was rather sill, but entertaining. However, on the positive side it is visually very good, plenty of colour and great use of Greek locations. The musical score, by Brian Eno, is effectively menacing. Some reviewers found it boring but I did not. Being a 1970's Euro horror movie we get some nudity, plus a fair amount of blood and gore. It's really not too bad.

My, my, my: Peter Cushing and Donald Pleasance must have been desperate for work to have lent their talents to this turkey. A horribly muddled story about satanism in modern day Greece, Land Of The Minotaur (aka The Devil's Men) is a misfire on more-or-less every level imaginable. It has precious few scares (always a slight flaw for a "horror" movie, don't you think?); weak performances; countless scenes where characters foolishly wander off alone or turn down the opportunity to remain in the safety of a group; and some rather irritating editing techniques which add nothing whatsoever to the proceedings. I got prematurely excited at the prospect of Cushing and Pleasance working together 17 years after The Flesh And The Fiends - but this film isn't worth getting remotely excited about; it's a huge let-down and rather an embarrassment for its much worthier leads.

In a remote region of Greece, outsiders such as tourists and archaeologists keep going missing, and local priest Father Roche (Donald Pleasance) suspects that something sinister is afoot. He writes to his friend, New York private eye Milo Kaye (Costas Skouras), asking him to fly out to Greece to help him get to the bottom of the mystery. In the meantime, three more visitors - Beth (Vanna Reville), Ian (Nikos Verlekis) and Tom (Robert Behling), who are all personal friends of Father Roche - go missing while snooping around nearby Greek ruins. Milo eventually arrives in Greece, but is initially dubious about Father Roche's beliefs that the missing people have been snatched for satanic sacrifices. Milo and Father Roche are also joined by Laurie (Luan Peters), the girlfriend of missing man Tom. Together, they uncover the activities of a Minoan devil-worshipping cult headed by creepy Carpathian exile Baron Corofax (Peter Cushing). These crazed cultists have been busily sacrificing their victims to a statue of the minotaur. Furthermore, they seemingly cannot be killed by normal means, so Father Roche has to use a variety of religious artifacts in his fight against them.

Land Of The Minotaur should have been much better than it actually is. The plot is so wacky and improbable that it has all the hallmarks of an enjoyably goofy cult/camp favourite. But the handling is just awful. Director Costas Carayiannis has no idea how to link the narrative together cohesively, so the whole thing progresses like it was being made up on a day-to-day basis. He also has no idea how to coax convincing performances from his cast, so they are left to embarrass themselves in either dreadfully hammy (Pleasance, Cushing) or dreadfully amateurish (Skouras, Peters) performances. What's worse is that the narrative makes no sense. Why would Father Roche seek help from a private eye who is utterly flippant about his beliefs? How does Roche know that the sacrifices only occur during a full moon? How can the minotaur statue speak? Why is one one of the sacrificial victims instructed during a vision to stab Father Roche, only to herself be stabbed a few scenes later before getting a chance to carry it out? And - most baffling of all - why does Father Roche drag Milo halfway around the world to help him when all he needs is a crucifix and and some holy water to dispose of the bad guys? These questions - and more - will pop into your mind during Land Of The Minotaur.... but, alas, there are no answers to be had. Frustrating, dumb and disappointing!