From his screen debut in The Dark Knight (2008), David Dastmalchian has thrived playing creeps, criminals, and deranged sad individuals in which he makes an indelible impression with the most limited screentime. Prisoners (2013) showed him as a disturbed ex-kidnapping victim doomed from the moment he was on the screen. He became a reluctant superhero in James Gunn’s The Suicide Squad (2021) displaying more layers of unsettled morbidity. The ever-persistent character actor has garnered a unique fandom fond of his acting, subtly sinking into characters that would be difficult for most. One had to wonder what it would take for the maverick to land a leading role. Turns out, horror is more than welcoming of his talents.
Late Night With the Devil (2024) is a mockumentary-style, found-footage film that takes a riff on 1970s late-night talk show media crossed with the tired and worn-out subgenre of possessed exorcist films. Center-stage is Dastmalchian as Jack Delroy, a smarmy, if earnestly endearing, talk show host who wears a beige-ugly suit with his hair slicked back, projecting an affable showmanship quality—he wows audiences while trying to outdo Johnny Carson in the ratings. It’s 1977, and his show, Night Owls with Jack Delroy, is slipping in ratings during its sixth season. Additionally, Jack is recovering from the unexpected death of his wife, Madeleine (Georgina Haig).
Desperate to wow advertisers and avoid the death knell of sweeps, he concocts a special Halloween episode, where he interviews a psychic, Christou (Fayssai Bazzi), and a magician-turned-skeptic, Carmichael the Conjurer (Ian Bliss). The biggest guest booked is a parapsychologist of the occult, Dr. June Ross-Mitchell (Laura Gordon), and the subject of her new book about the devil, Lilly (Ingrid Torelli), a survivor of a Satanic mass suicide. Lilly is possessed by a demon, whom she calls, “Mr. Wiggles.” The central film is focused on a panel of Dr. June and Lilly combating Carmichael’s skepticism, as they dispute claims and reinforce beliefs of what is real and fake, in an era that has been impressed by The Exorcist (1973). The more skeptical Carmichael becomes (and the possibility of Jack’s show crumbling), Jack urges Dr. June to bring about Mr. Wiggles in a showcase of the devil and lend his show the grand spectacle that will make him infamous.
The film is presented as a piece of lost media in which we witness the master tape show what was broadcasted, inter-spliced with behind-the-scenes mayhem, done in hand-held black-and-white cinematography during commercial breaks. This induces a documentarian perspective of Jack and his crew preparing and dealing with technical glitches, arguments with guests and Jack’s right-hand man, Gus (Rhys Auteri), and coaxing Dr. June into conjuring the possessed devil out of Lilly for a memorable show.
Helming the film are first-time writer/directors, Colin and Cameron Cairnes, as they successfully replicate some of the 70s aesthetic of late-night broadcast programming with fuzzy videotape lines, along with glitchy, muffled audio that helps lend the film a layer of immersive believability to build and escalate the tensions. The first half plays with Jack jesting audiences, poking fun at Gus, widening his eyes to favor himself to the viewer, and promising a great show while showing cracks of desperation for people to like the show and keep tuning in. There’s a fun, satirical tone present in how television was the dominant form of media consumption yet was still victim to the greater powers of corporations and advertisers that will make or break Jack’s career.
No matter how disturbing his show becomes, with every puke-spewing accident or dead-inducing fear of the devil—Jack won’t hesitate to begin each commercial break with, “Now a word from our sponsors.” Jack’s desire to usurp Carson becomes increasingly dire, as he prods June and Lilly to their breaking points. There’s a craven, inhumane-like behavior Jack exhibits demonstrating the sacrifices one makes when subjecting oneself to the business called show. As the film progresses, the façade of Jack’s showman mask falls, and his desires for fame backfire as the demonic reality crashes the safe, controlled auror of showbiz.
Dastmalchian is exceptiona and delivers one of the best performances of his career. It’s not often we get to see character actors like him take the reins of genre fare that could have easily picked lesser-known talent, yet his presence is required. He imbues Jack with a loveable, sycophantic likeability that he’s hard to root against yet morally questionable as the film progresses. There’s a wicked charm in how he sways his body around the stage, interacting with audiences and guests, remaining unassuming and calm, yet hiding the cracks of his fractured life. The innocence of his quivering voice is accentuated by his glossy, devastated eyes that are screaming for something more than being second to Carson. Jack’s precarious effort lives or dies by his conviction, and Dastmalchian has never been more convincing than Jack Delroy.
Torelli is gleefully haunting as Lilly; her portrayal of a possessed victim is less rooted in childlike innocence and more resembling a dead-eyed corpse trotted out like a puppet. Her mechanical way of talking and behaviors is underlined by her stilted body movements and angular neck-bending leading Lilly to be curious and scary. Gordon is an excellent foil for Jack, a person not encumbered by cynicism but driven by compassion and care for Lilly, as she tries her best to fend off Jack’s lust for a show, and puts Lilly’s safety and needs before herself. There’s a motherly devotion from Gordon that is genuine and palpable, clashing against Jack’s nonchalant disregard for safety and assurance. Bliss is a fun stand-in for the audience’s disbelief in the devilish happenings, as he can’t help but argue with a smug, condescending attitude.
Carmichael is content with his moral superiority while adamant about disproving the most irrefutable evidence of the devil. As he continues his self-righteous crusade in doubting the unnatural, you can’t help but wait in anticipation for what poor fate awaits for Carmichael.
The film climaxes into a scary display of levitating chairs, Lilly’s voice changing, and worms crawling out of people—all hell is loose on the set of Night Owls. As Jack gets the excitement and attention he’s always craved, the fraught secrets between him and his wife are unearthed by Mr. Wiggle, goading and picking at Jack’s life, alluding to a hidden history of a secret society.
This element feels more half-written and forced to add more depth to the narrative stakes, when the focus should be Jack’s disintegration from a lovely talk show host to a hopeless performer. The ending feels a bit unsatisfying. While it arrives at a natural conclusion, it feels the film could still push much more than it dares to as if the point of Jack’s arc is up to interpretation.
Found footage and exorcism films were omnipresent in the late 2000s with the onset of the Paranormal Activity franchise that numbed and dulled audiences to being scared or affected by the effect. One such film that fits in a similar vein to Late Night with the Devil is Daniel Stamm’s The Last Exorcism (2010). The film focused on a personable character actor in Patrick Fabian, a pastor who was skeptical of exorcism until he met his match in a possessed girl who suffered a plethora of mental illnesses. The film expertly wove both doubt and belief, questioning what’s real, all while the found footage style immersing the audience in a frightening experience.
Late Night is the natural predecessor to that lost gem of a film, as Dastmalchian’s Jack slowly loses his grasp on reality and the direction of his show. While the film devolves into cliché tropes burdened by this subgenre, David Dastmalchia’s performance makes you a believer. Not of the occult or the devil, but at how much of a tremendous talent he is when handling characters so cryptic and unwavering in the face of their doom. He remains steadfast and committed to creating memorable icons of the fringe and niche they instantly feel immortalized on screen through his faculties.
Review Courtesy of Amritpal Rai
Feature Image Credit to Umbrella Entertainment via The New York Times
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