The Resurrection of a Cinematic Taboo: Inside the Long-Awaited Restoration of Ken Russell’s ‘The Devils’
For decades, the phrase “holy grail” has been casually tossed around in cinephile circles to describe lost cuts, missing reels, and unattainable alternate versions of beloved motion pictures. Yet, among all the elusive masterpieces rumored to be locked away in studio vaults, Ken Russell’s 1971 historical drama The Devils occupied a uniquely cursed tier.
While other controversial studio films eventually found new life through director’s cuts, expanded DVD features, and high-definition home video restorations, The Devils remained stranded in cinematic purgatory. It wasn’t merely that the film was difficult to find; it was that the version available to the public was incomplete—maimed by studio interference and heavy-handed censorship boards at the time of its initial release.
Now, that half-century narrative has fundamentally shifted. Following a triumphant, sold-out world premiere at the Cannes Film Festival, Warner Bros.—acting through its newly minted boutique distribution label, Clockwork—has brought the fully restored, uncut iteration of The Devils to a widespread 35mm theatrical release. At the center of this monumental cultural correction is renowned British film critic and author Mark Kermode, a man who has spent the better part of his professional life acting as the film’s most vocal and unwavering champion.
Main Facts: A Landmark Restoration and Its Champion
The unprecedented theatrical rollout of The Devils marks the first time modern audiences can experience Russell’s uncompromising vision precisely as it was intended to be seen. Spearheaded by Warner Bros.’ new Clockwork imprint—led by industry veterans Spencer Collantes and Christian Parkes—the project successfully bypasses the subpar, low-resolution digital formats that previously passed for a "director’s cut."
The restoration arrived in North America with a special screening at the 64th New York Film Festival (NYFF) held at the Walter Reade Theater. Among the attendees was Mark Kermode, whose decades-long crusade to locate missing footage and rehabilitate the film’s reputation culminated in a passionate retrospective conversation about the legacy of Ken Russell.
Kermode’s involvement with the film dates back to 1995, when he first met Russell and vowed to help track down the legendary, excised sequences—most notably the infamous "Rape of Christ" sequence and a pivotal scene featuring Sister Jeanne and a human bone. Those missing elements were eventually unearthed at the turn of the century, leading to a rudimentary digital video (DigiBeta) assembly utilized for a 2002 television documentary and a 2004 National Film Theatre screening. However, those earlier iterations were plagued by technological limitations, presenting the film through a digital haze that failed to capture the tactile, celluloid-dense reality of Russell’s original production.
Chronology: Tracing the Path From Purgatory to the Big Screen
To understand the scale of the achievement represented by Clockwork’s new 35mm release, one must trace the timeline of The Devils through its turbulent history of suppression:
- July 1971: The Devils premieres to immense public furor, critical polarization, and immediate panic from studio executives and British censors (the BBFC). Accused of blasphemy, sensationalism, and obscenity, the film is swiftly cut by both Warner Bros. and the censors prior to its widespread international release.
- Late 1970s–1980s: The original British X-rated theatrical prints largely vanish from circulation, quietly superseded by the shorter, heavily compromised American R-rated version on the late-night revival circuit.
- 1995: Mark Kermode meets director Ken Russell. During their early discussions, Russell laments that the missing scenes are permanently lost. Undeterred, Kermode begins a decades-long advocacy mission.
- Early 2000s: Film historians and archivists successfully unearth the long-lost reels containing the missing sequences.
- 2002–2004: The missing footage is integrated into the Channel 4 documentary Hell on Earth, followed by a DigiBeta "director’s cut" screening at the National Film Theatre. While celebrated as a milestone, the technical quality is limited by standard-definition digital projection.
- May (Cannes Film Festival): Warner Bros.’ newly formed Clockwork label shocks the international film community by debuting a pristine, fully restored 35mm print of the complete, uncut director’s cut. The screening sells out in seconds.
- October: Following a high-profile screening at the 64th New York Film Festival, The Devils officially opens in theaters nationwide in its definitive format.
Supporting Data: The Anatomy of a Masterpiece
The aesthetic revival of The Devils cannot be overstated. Previous home video incarnations reduced Russell’s meticulous mise-en-scène to washed-out, squiggly digital artifacts. As Kermode noted during his NYFF discussions, watching those older digital transfers felt like viewing a masterpiece "through a glass darkly."
The newly struck 35mm prints restore the film’s staggering visual density, proving that Russell’s work was fundamentally engineered for celluloid. Backed by Peter Maxwell Davies’ cutting-edge avant-garde score, Derek Jarman’s radical minimalist set designs at Pinewood Studios, and Shirley Russell’s striking costumes, the restored film operates on a scale of artistic ambition virtually extinct in modern studio filmmaking.
Kermode frequently draws comparisons to other major restoration milestones, such as Francis Ford Coppola’s work on Apocalypse Now. However, unlike cases where alternate cuts merely offer a "different" viewing experience, Kermode maintains that The Devils was explicitly "damaged goods" prior to this intervention. By re-inserting the missing narrative and thematic connective tissue, the restoration repairs a physical and artistic fracture that plagued the film for over fifty years.
Official Responses and Industry Dynamics
The resurrection of The Devils was made possible by a rare convergence of institutional risk-taking and youth-driven industry foresight. For years, major studios viewed the title as a liability—a radioactive artifact of 1970s controversy.
The turning point arrived when Spencer Collantes and Christian Parkes established the Clockwork label within Warner Bros. Drawing on their previous success championing daring cinema at NEON, the duo approached Warner Bros. leadership with a straightforward pitch: it was time to finally do justice to Ken Russell’s vision.
Kermode credits this shift to a generational change in studio gatekeeping. While older studio executives viewed the film through a lens of historical caution, the incoming leadership recognized the cultural capital and historical importance of correcting a historic wrong.
Publicly, the response from contemporary filmmakers and critics has been overwhelmingly ecstatic. Guillermo del Toro famously compared the clarity of modern cinematic restorations to "cleaning the Sistine Chapel with saliva." Meanwhile, audiences at Cannes and New York have reacted with rapturous applause, validating Kermode’s lifelong insistence that the film was never a piece of cheap exploitation, but rather a misunderstood masterpiece ahead of its time.
Implications: The Future of Film Preservation and Auteurism
The successful restoration and theatrical deployment of The Devils carries profound implications for the broader landscape of film archiving, auteur theory, and studio accountability.
First, it redefines the parameters of what is possible within major Hollywood vaults. For years, cinephiles have lamented that corporate risk aversion would prevent costly photochemical and digital restorations of genuinely subversive art. The success of Clockwork’s initiative proves that studios can successfully leverage boutique marketing models to reintroduce historically challenging works to a generation of viewers who view cinema through an uncompromised, high-fidelity lens.
Second, the discourse surrounding the release touches upon the philosophical core of film criticism. Kermode’s steadfast defense of the film underscores the argument that true criticism is inherently personal rather than rigidly objective. When an artist operates with absolute integrity—assembling the finest talents across composition, design, and performance—even a fiercely controversial failure or a suppressed masterwork demands to be evaluated on the purity of its intent.
As The Devils begins its wide theatrical rollout, its legacy is no longer defined by what was hidden, censored, or destroyed. Instead, it stands as an enduring testament to the power of collective advocacy, proving that even after half a century in the dark, true cinematic vision can ultimately find its way home.
