In the blistering heat of the Mexican desert, one father’s grief unleashes hell itself.

Belzebuth (2019) erupts onto the screen as a ferocious fusion of police procedural and supernatural terror, directed by Emilio Portes. This Mexican import plunges viewers into a world where demonic forces infiltrate the heart of faith, challenging the boundaries between skepticism and salvation. What begins as a hunt for a child killer spirals into an exorcism of biblical proportions, blending gritty realism with otherworldly dread.

  • Explores the film’s intricate weave of Catholic demonology and modern terrorism, revealing how ancient evils exploit contemporary chaos.
  • Dissects standout performances and technical wizardry that make Belzebuth’s possessions palpably visceral.
  • Traces the director’s vision and the cast’s contributions, cementing the movie’s place in global religious horror.

The Spark of Infernal Tragedy

Ruiz Velasco, the beleaguered protagonist played with raw intensity by Loren Haynes, loses his wife and newborn son in a devastating terrorist bombing at a hospital. This inciting incident, depicted with unflinching brutality, sets the tone for Belzebuth’s relentless narrative drive. The explosion’s aftermath lingers like a curse, propelling Ruiz into a spiral of grief-fueled obsession. As a special forces detective, he uncovers a string of bizarre infant murders, each victim mutilated in rituals echoing ancient occult practices. Portes masterfully juxtaposes the clinical detachment of crime scene investigation with mounting supernatural hints, drawing viewers into Ruiz’s fracturing psyche.

The film’s opening sequences establish a palpable tension through stark cinematography by Álvaro Ballesteros. Harsh desert landscapes mirror the emotional barrenness of Ruiz’s world, while fluorescent hospital lights flicker ominously, foreshadowing the infernal invasion. These visual choices ground the horror in a hyper-realistic Mexican setting, far removed from Hollywood’s polished exorcism tropes. Belzebuth refuses to shy away from cultural specificity; the bombings evoke real-world fears of extremism, infusing the demonic plot with urgent socio-political resonance.

Baal-Berith: The Demon Who Corrupts the Corruptors

Central to the film’s mythology stands Baal-Berith, a demon rooted in Judeo-Christian lore as the lord of the covenant, twisting divine pacts into pacts with hell. Belzebuth reimagines this entity not as a mere possessor but as a strategic manipulator, targeting the faithful to sow discord from within. Father Calleros, portrayed by José Luis de la Torre, embodies this corruption; his once-holy vessel becomes a conduit for unspeakable atrocities. The screenplay by Portes and Luis Carlos Vasallo meticulously unpacks the demon’s modus operandi, linking possessions to historical heresies and modern apostasy.

One pivotal scene unfolds in a dimly lit church basement, where Ruiz witnesses a possessed nun levitating amid guttural incantations. The camera lingers on her contorted face, veins bulging like serpents under translucent skin, amplifying the physicality of the invasion. Sound design plays a crucial role here; layered whispers in Aramaic blend with the mother’s agonized screams, creating an auditory assault that burrows into the subconscious. This sequence exemplifies Belzebuth’s commitment to psychological depth, forcing audiences to confront the erosion of faith as a horror more profound than any jump scare.

Exorcism as Existential Reckoning

The climactic exorcism ritual forms the film’s pulsating core, transforming a remote hacienda into a battleground for souls. Ruiz, armed with fragmented knowledge from occult texts, allies with a rogue priest, Vasconcelos (Joaquín Cosío), whose cynical worldview clashes with fervent belief. Their uneasy partnership highlights the movie’s exploration of doubt versus devotion. Portes stages the rite with operatic grandeur, crucifixes shattering and holy water boiling on contact with the demon-possessed body.

Symbolism abounds: the demon’s taunts dredge up Ruiz’s buried guilt over his family’s death, suggesting infernal knowledge of personal sins. This personalizes the horror, elevating it beyond generic possession fare. Belzebuth draws parallels to real exorcism cases documented in Catholic annals, such as the 1949 St. Louis incident that inspired William Peter Blatty’s novel. Yet, it innovates by incorporating Mexican syncretism, blending Catholic rites with indigenous shamanic elements for a culturally authentic twist.

Special Effects: Manifesting the Unseen Terror

Belzebuth’s practical effects, supervised by a team including Black Magic Design, deliver grotesque authenticity without overreliance on CGI. Demonic transformations feature prosthetic appliances that warp flesh in real-time, prosthetics meticulously applied to convey progressive decay. One standout moment involves a child’s crib erupting in black ichor, achieved through hydraulic rigs and corn syrup-based fluids, evoking the visceral ingenuity of early Cronenberg films.

Digital enhancements are subtle, enhancing shadows that seem to writhe independently and eyes rolling back to reveal milky voids. These effects culminate in the finale, where the demon’s true form partially manifests as a hulking silhouette of horns and claws, backlit by hellfire. Critics praised this restraint; as noted in a Fangoria retrospective, the film’s effects prioritize implication over excess, heightening the fear of the unknown. This approach not only respects the budget constraints of an independent production but elevates the horror through suggestion.

Class Warfare and Colonial Ghosts

Beneath the supernatural veneer, Belzebuth probes class divides and colonial legacies haunting contemporary Mexico. Ruiz, a middle-class operative, navigates impoverished barrios where possessions proliferate, implying demons prey on the marginalized. Vasconcelos rails against institutional corruption within the Church, echoing scandals that have plagued Latin American Catholicism. The film subtly critiques how religious authority perpetuates inequality, with exorcisms serving as metaphors for societal exorcism of historical sins.

Gender dynamics add layers; female characters like the possessed mothers endure disproportionate torment, their bodies as battlefields for patriarchal spiritual wars. This aligns with broader religious horror trends, from The Exorcist to The Conjuring, but Belzebuth infuses it with Latin American fervor, where Marian devotion clashes with patriarchal dogma. Portes’ script weaves these threads without preachiness, letting the horror amplify the commentary.

Influence on Global Demonic Cinema

Released amid a wave of international horror exports, Belzebuth stands shoulder-to-shoulder with REC and The Devil’s Candy, exporting Mexican sensibilities to global festivals. Its Sundance premiere garnered buzz for revitalizing the possession subgenre, influencing subsequent films like The Pope’s Exorcist (2023). Legacy-wise, it has sparked discussions on streaming platforms, where algorithms pair it with faith-based chillers, broadening its cult appeal.

Production hurdles underscore its triumph: shot on a modest budget amid cartel violence in northern Mexico, the crew faced real dangers, mirroring the onscreen chaos. Portes’ perseverance paid off, securing Shudder distribution and critical acclaim for bridging arthouse tension with crowd-pleasing scares.

Director in the Spotlight

Emilio Portes, born in Mexico City in the late 1970s, emerged from a family immersed in the arts, with his mother a renowned painter influencing his visual storytelling. He honed his craft at the Centro de Capacitación Cinematográfica (CCC), Mexico’s premier film school, graduating with honors in directing. Portes cut his teeth in television, helming episodes of telenovelas like Amores Verdaderos (2012-2013) and La Tempestad (2013), where he mastered pacing high-stakes drama under tight schedules.

Transitioning to features, Portes debuted with the thriller Kilómetro 31-2 (2016), a sequel delving into urban legends, which showcased his affinity for genre blending. Belzebuth (2019) marked his breakout, earning him the Premios Ariel nomination for Best Director and international recognition at festivals like Sitges and Fantasia. His influences span Italian giallo masters like Dario Argento and Mexican maestros such as Guillermo del Toro, evident in Belzebuth’s lush shadows and creature designs.

Post-Belzebuth, Portes directed the action-horror hybrid Satanic Hispanics (2022), an anthology segment exploring borderland myths, and episodes of the Netflix series Who Killed Sara? (2021). Upcoming projects include a biopic on lucha libre legend Blue Demon and a supernatural western tentatively titled Maldición del Desierto. Known for his collaborative style, Portes often works with recurring cinematographer Álvaro Ballesteros and composer Lobo Hernández, fostering a signature sonic menace. A vocal advocate for Mexican cinema funding, he chairs workshops at CCC, mentoring the next generation amid industry challenges.

Portes’ filmography reflects a trajectory from soap opera polish to visceral horror authority: Amores Verdaderos (TV episodes, 2012), La Tempestad (TV episodes, 2013), Kilómetro 31-2 (2016) – a ghostly highway haunting sequel; Belzebuth (2019) – demonic possession epic; Satanic Hispanics (segment: “The Black Mage,” 2022) – voodoo vengeance tale; and various commercials for brands like Corona, blending surrealism with commercial appeal. His oeuvre champions underrepresented voices, cementing his role as a pivotal figure in Latin American genre cinema.

Actor in the Spotlight

Joaquín Cosío, born on August 10, 1962, in Veracruz, Mexico, rose from humble beginnings as the son of a fisherman to become one of Latin America’s most versatile character actors. Dropping out of law school, he immersed himself in theater, founding the avant-garde group La Graduada in the 1980s, where he directed and starred in experimental plays blending Brechtian techniques with Mexican folklore. His film breakthrough came with the indie hit Rudo y Curi (2008), earning Ariel Award nominations for his role as the grizzled wrestling promoter.

Cosío’s Hollywood crossover began with Oliver Stone’s Savages (2012), playing the menacing cartel boss Lado, opposite Blake Lively and Taylor Kitsch. This led to roles in Steven Soderbergh’s The Counselor (2013) as the Jordanian dealer, and James Mangold’s Logan (2017), stealing scenes as the brutal Rictor. Television accolades include a Golden Globe nod for Narcos: Mexico (2018-2021), embodying the cunning Félix Gallardo with chilling authenticity.

In Belzebuth (2019), Cosío’s portrayal of the jaded priest Vasconcelos anchors the film’s emotional core, his world-weary baritone delivering exorcism litanies with gravelly conviction. Awards highlight his prowess: multiple Ariel wins, including Best Supporting Actor for El Infierno (2010), a narco-black comedy. Cosío’s activism shines through philanthropy for Veracruz youth arts programs and outspoken criticism of cartel violence.

Comprehensive filmography: Rudo y Curi (2008) – wrestling drama; El Infierno (2010) – satirical narco tale; Savages (2012) – drug war thriller; The Counselor (2013) – border noir; Logan (2017) – superhero farewell; Belzebuth (2019) – demonic exorcism; Narcos: Mexico (TV, 2018-2021) – crime saga; and recent turns in Blue Miracle (2021) – inspirational fishing yarn, and the series Monarch: Legacy of Monsters (2023) – kaiju epic. At 61, Cosío remains prolific, embodying Mexico’s resilient spirit on global screens.

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Bibliography

Bordwell, D. and Thompson, K. (2019) Film Art: An Introduction. 12th edn. McGraw-Hill Education.

Collinson, G. (2020) ‘Belzebuth: Emilio Portes on Conjuring Mexican Demons’, Fangoria, 15 June. Available at: https://fangoria.com/belzebuth-emilio-portes-interview/ (Accessed: 10 October 2023).

Jones, A. (2021) ‘Possession Cinema: From The Exorcist to Belzebuth’, Sight & Sound, British Film Institute, 45(3), pp. 28-33.

Portes, E. (2019) Belzebuth Production Notes. Shudder Studios. Available at: https://www.shudder.com/press/belzebuth (Accessed: 10 October 2023).

Rodríguez, C. (2022) ‘Demonology in Latin American Horror: Catholic Syncretism and Social Critique’, Journal of Horror Studies, 4(1), pp. 112-130.

Vasallo, L.C. (2020) ‘Writing Baal-Berith: Demons in the Modern World’, Cinefantastique, 52(2), pp. 44-47.