I felt something between dismissiveness and contempt for Ken Russell's The Devils the first time I saw it 15 years ago, while in film school—viewed on a sub-VHS quality, censored bootleg because that was the best version available. At the time, I discounted it as empty exploitation, and failed to embrace the technical artistry and thematic depth. (This was also a time when I worshiped Roger Ebert's writing, and surely was influenced by his zero-star 1971 review.)
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