Greeksploitation is one of the lesser known avenues for horror movies and the like, but look hard enough and you’ll find a few trash epics lurking around the Aegean. The most famous would probably be the works of Nico Mastorakis who gave us the thoroughly unpleasant Island Of Death that merged the perverted actions of a kill-crazy couple with the picturesque backdrop of Mykonos – however, during the same year, another, far lesser known movie aiming to unearth Greece’s potential for horror arrived that also had the benefit of having legends Peter Cushing and Donald Pleasence involved.
Like a lot of lesser known movies of the era, the title would change depending on who you asked – in the US, it was released as the slightly confusing Land Of The Minotaur (which makes it sound like a sword and sandals epic) but in Europe is was known as the far more succinct The Devil’s Men. However, whatever title know may know it by, one thing stays the same – the Greek arm of Satan worshipers is hardly the cream of the devil worshiping crop.
A devil worshiping cult based in Greece is abducting holiday makers who venture too close to the archeological and sacrificing them to their idol, a giant statue of a minotaur that blows fire out from its nostrils at regular intervals. As we start the film, we witness a couple of gormless looking tourists get a chest-full of blade, but it seems that while the entire village seems to have gotten caught up in the drama of worshiping the devil, there’s still at least one God fearing man around and his Satan sense is tingling. That man is Father Roche, who has noticed the unholy goings on and yet strangely shoots himself in the foot when, after warning some student acquaintances never to visit the area, he also tells them how to get there. Maybe he should take some time off and guard the Pet Semetary…
Of course, the foolhardy, hippy youths visit the area and are promptly kidnapped by satanists, which inspires Father Roche to call in the big guns: shaggy haired, New York private detective Milo Kaye, and Laurie, the girlfriend of one of the idiot students. However, after setting out to crack the case of the Greek Satanists wide open, Roche finds that his companions aren’t quite as dedicated as he is. Laurie frequently faints at the sight of robe wearing creepers and Milo is such a disbeliever, he doesn’t even believe there even are Satanists until it’s almost too late.
With possibly the worst two people helping him, can Father Roche match faith with cult sinister leader Baron Corofax and rescue the students before Satan claims their soul? Fat ficking chance of that when your private detective chooses to wear double denim in the Greek heat and can’t detect his way out of a wet paper bag.
While some might try to describe The Devil’s Men as The Wicker Man with a tan, to mention something a sublime as Robin Hardy’s pagan masterpiece in the same sentence as this bilge should be taken as something as an egregious insult. In actuality the film ends up being so inadvertently funny, a more fitting title probably would have been My Big Fat Greek Sacrifice and while scares and tension are few and far between, chuckles come thick and fast despite the fact that only Pleasence and Cushing are the only ones remotely taking things seriously. In comparison, the rest of the cast are either hampered by a complete lack of acting skill, or are given shockingly bad characters to play with the lion’s share of the female cast made up of interchangeable blondes who are only required to scream, faint, run, or disrobe depending on what the scene requires and the satanists are made up of bug eyed background performers who do their best work with their hoods on.
However, the cream (or should that be Greek Yoghurt) of the crop proves to be Kostas Karagiorgis’ unintentionally hilarious Milo, who would be some amazing comic relief – if he’s wasn’t supposed to be the hero of the film! As quite possibly the shittiest onscreen Private detective I’ve seen in quite a while, his ineptitude reaches herculean proportions from the very moment he’s introduced nude, with a great big unruly mop of grey hair. As you wonder how the 7pl0s could allow a man to be the hero of a horror film while looking like he’s emerged from the set of a Father Ted porn parody (seriously, he looks just like the comedy priest), he further dazzles by mansplaining his way through the adventure while missing glaring evidence literally sitting under his nose.
When he’s too slow to spot hooded devil worshipers sprinting past his window and gaslighting his girlfriend into thinking that it must have been a lost cow (?), he’s unable to locate the hidden van he’s currently leaning on and you start to wonder if Pleasence’s priest called him in simply to be a sacrifice-worthy distraction while he does all the real work.
Still, as shit as Milo is, he’s far more memorable than the rest of the cast who spend most of their screen time looking blankly – when one particular vacant-eyed beardo is introduced from being from Boston, I was genuinely unsure for a second if they actually meant the city or the band. However, straining like crazy to hold the film together, both Pleasence (with a fairly strong Irish accent) and Cushing (letting those cheek bones do most the work) are consummate professionals, adding depth and gravity by their performances alone that certainly isn’t present in the material. In fact, it’s insane how much support director Kostas Karagiannis doesn’t give them, opting to deliver a slice of satanic panic that isn’t tense or scary that set in an area of Greece that’s about as photogenic as a council estate in Basildon. Time and time again, the movie fails to evoke even a modicum of chills that starts right from the beginning when someone chooses the rather odd decision to have the letters of the main title tumble out of the nostrils of the Minotaur statue. From there, matters quickly get worse when the score seemingly is made up of random, muffled groans that prove to be as atmospheric as someone mowing their lawn. Maybe the print I saw had something wrong with Brian Eno’s soundtrack, but at least it got sorted out in time for the far-out blast of prog rock that plays over the end credits and features vocals by none other than Paul (Phantom Of The Paradise) Williams.
But alas, not even this is enough to save the corrupted soul of The Devil’s Men that keeps insisting on making one bad directorial choice after another. Did we really need a shot of Pleasence’s splayed crotch area as he attempts to scale a wall? Was the supporting cast really the best they could have hired? Could they not have given us a more credible lead? The production could argue that the devil made them do it – but I highly doubt that the devil is that stupid…
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