Realm Of Satan

Director Scott Cummings has an editing background, having cut together indie treats including Beach Rats, Monsters And Men and Never Rarely Sometimes Always, so it’s fair to say he knows a fair bit about the importance of the connection and juxtaposition between images and, by extension, between moods. He brings this playfully to the fore in this hybrid documentary - made “in collaboration with” the Church of Satan, which offers snapshots from the daily lives of your average (and perhaps less than average) Satanist, that span from the domestic to the dramatic. Participants range all the way up to the current high priest and high priestess of the church.

The Devil, you might say, is in the details, as in various households, Church of Satan paraphernalia including skulls and the like, nestles alongside a Playbill for Phantom of the Opera or an Elvis statuette. Elsewhere a goat plate appears to be surrounded by holiday snaps. The formalism of some of the locked camera shots could have been created by Aki Kaurismaki, not least because of the Church of Satan’s adherents for strictly dark red and black colour schemes.

There are rituals here, including one which shows a range of people from various countries making their plea to the “Prince of Darkness” in different languages. The words may be different but the formula is much the same as for many faiths, even if the powers being asked for here are “infernal” ones. It is worth noting that the Church of Satan also, however, “favours the just”. One thing that is notable, although it’s hard to know whether this stems from the choice of subjects by Cummings or not, is that belonging to the Church of Satan appears to largely be an upper middle-class pursuit.

Sometimes the mix of the domestic and the devilish is acute. A kitchen, for example, where we see a man putting on enough make-up for a Kiss concert, while his wife sorts the laundry behind him and a kid, off-screen, asks to watch TV. He’s later seen, in full make-up, hanging out the washing. A goat also becomes, if you’ll pardon the pun, a familiar sight.

There are more explicit scenes, not least what appears to be a BDSM gathering of sorts, although the creak of the gimp suits makes this more comical than serious. Cummings also elects to extrapolate out from the everyday at key moments heightening the weirdness with splashes of camera trickery. While again speaking to the general playfulness of the film, and drawing on the general theatricality of the church itself these moments have the air of gilding the lily.

Beyond showing the everyday, there's also a hint of the difficulties and prejudices this community faces at the hands of others, who don't share their views - something that calls the viewer to consider "morality" form all sides.

While a fixed camera is frequently used and often from a slight distance, so that we have the opportunity to take in the whole scene, Cummings doesn’t get stuck in a rut. There are moments when the camera snakes through a house, for example, adding movement. No narration is offered, this is a take as you find film that leaves plenty of room for interpretation - and it's all the more engaging for that.