The Devil’s Rain (1975): When Satanic Melt-Faces Invaded the Desert

In the blistering heat of the Mojave, a family’s ancient pact with the Prince of Darkness unleashes a torrent of melting flesh and occult fury.

Picture this: a remote desert town shrouded in eerie silence, broken only by the rumble of thunder from a storm that defies nature. Enter The Devil’s Rain, a 1975 horror oddity that blends satanic cults, practical effects wizardry, and a cast of genre icons into a gooey, unforgettable nightmare. This film stands as a testament to the wild experimentation of 1970s cinema, where low budgets met high ambitions, birthing a cult classic that still oozes cult appeal decades later.

  • A chilling tale of a family cursed by a 17th-century devil’s pact, culminating in grotesque melting sequences that pushed practical effects to grotesque new limits.
  • Featuring William Shatner and Ernest Borgnine in career-detouring roles, the movie captures the era’s fascination with occult paranoia just before the Satanic Panic gripped America.
  • Its legacy endures through midnight screenings, memorabilia hunts, and influence on later horror, cementing its place in retro horror lore.

Desert Pacts and Diabolical Bargains

The story kicks off in the dusty expanse of the Mojave Desert, where the Corry family harbours a dark secret tied to their ancestor Jonathan Corry, who centuries ago signed away his soul in a book bound with human skin. This unholy tome, guarded by the family through generations, becomes the centrepiece of a ritualistic showdown. When Mark (William Shatner) ventures to rescue his brother Tom (played by future Oscar winner Jeff Corey) from the clutches of a satanic cult led by Shaitan – Ernest Borgnine’s hooded high priest – he stumbles into a web of possession, betrayal, and supernatural horror.

Director Robert Fuest crafts a narrative that unfolds with deliberate slowness, building tension through isolation and subtle dread. The cultists, marked by inverted crosses scarred into their flesh, worship in a hidden church cavern adorned with pentagrams and flickering torches. As the devil’s rain – a corrosive downpour that liquifies the faithless – begins to fall, loyalties fracture. Shatner’s character grapples with scepticism turning to terror, while his mother (Ida Lupino) embodies quiet resignation to the family’s cursed fate. The plot weaves in elements of witchcraft folklore, drawing from real 17th-century witch trials for authenticity amid the pulp.

What elevates this setup is the film’s commitment to its premise. No cheap jump scares here; instead, Fuest lingers on the psychological toll, with characters reciting incantations in Latin that echo through the canyons. The climax erupts in a mass ritual where the book is to be completed with the blood of the damned, forcing viewers to confront the seductive pull of eternal damnation.

Melting Faces: Practical Effects Masterclass

At the heart of The Devil’s Rain‘s visceral impact lie those infamous melting faces, a spectacle achieved through innovative latex appliances and chemical reactions overseen by effects maestro Joe Blasco. As cultists exposed to the titular rain dissolve into bubbling sludge, their features slump and drip in real time, creating a grotesque ballet of decay that prefigures later body horror like The Thing. These sequences demanded precise choreography, with actors donning layers of prosthetics that melted under controlled conditions using methylcellulose and other viscous agents.

The effects were groundbreaking for 1975, shot in the harsh desert light to heighten realism. Borgnine’s transformation from charismatic leader to a skeletal demon is particularly harrowing, his eyes bulging from sockets as flesh cascades away. Critics at the time praised the commitment, noting how the practical nature amplified the film’s intimacy – no digital shortcuts, just tangible horror that left audiences wiping imaginary goo from their seats.

Behind the scenes, production faced challenges syncing the melts with dialogue, often requiring multiple takes as the prosthetics behaved unpredictably in the heat. Yet this authenticity paid off, influencing effects houses in the years to come and making memorabilia like original slime props highly sought after in collector circles today.

Shatner’s Satanic Detour

William Shatner, fresh from Star Trek‘s cancellation, brings a unique intensity to Mark Corry. His performance mixes macho bravado with mounting paranoia, delivering lines like “Satan was a rebel once!” with a fervour that borders on camp. Shatner’s real-life interest in the occult – he’d later explore it in books – lends credibility, as he navigates traps and illusions conjured by the cult.

One standout scene sees him suspended in a cage, tormented by visions of his liquefied family, his screams echoing Shatner’s theatrical roots. Paired with Eddie Albert as the local sheriff turned acolyte, Shatner’s arc underscores the film’s theme of rationalism crumbling under supernatural assault. It’s a role that showcases his range beyond Kirk, endearing him to horror fans.

In retro context, Shatner’s involvement bridged sci-fi and horror fandoms, sparking crossovers in conventions where fans debate his best genre turn. His chemistry with Borgnine crackles, two titans clashing in a battle for souls.

Cult Cavern and Occult Aesthetics

The production design transforms a real Mojave cave into Satan’s lair, festooned with medieval torture devices, alchemical symbols, and a massive inverted pentagram floor. Cinematographer John C. Horger employs wide-angle lenses to dwarf humans against the cavern’s immensity, evoking feelings of insignificance before cosmic evil.

Costumes blend monastic robes with modern touches, like Borgnine’s skull-masked visage foreshadowing his melt. Sound design amplifies the dread: distant chants, dripping water, and a score by Al De Lory that swells with ominous organs, reminiscent of Hammer Horror traditions.

This aesthetic tapped into 1970s fascination with the occult, post-Rosemary’s Baby and amid rising interest in Aleister Crowley. The film’s release coincided with real-world cult scares, amplifying its timeliness.

Legacy in the Shadows

Though a box office modest success, The Devil’s Rain found its true home on VHS and late-night TV, becoming a staple for horror marathons. Its influence ripples through films like The Gate and Prince of Darkness, with melting motifs echoed in From Dusk Till Dawn. Collectibles thrive: posters with melting faces fetch premiums, and the novelisation by Max J. Schonfeld adds lore.

Modern revivals include Blu-ray restorations preserving the effects’ glory, and fan theories abound on forums dissecting biblical references. In nostalgia culture, it represents 1970s horror’s unpolished charm, unburdened by PG-13 constraints.

The film’s cult status endures, with annual desert screenings drawing enthusiasts who revel in its excesses, proving that sometimes, the devil’s in the details – or the dripping prosthetics.

Director/Creator in the Spotlight

Robert Fuest, born in 1927 in England, emerged from art school into the vibrant British film scene of the 1960s. Initially a set designer and television director, he honed his craft on gritty crime dramas before breaking into features. His directorial debut, The Abominable Dr. Phibes (1971), starring Vincent Price, blended art deco aesthetics with macabre humour, launching a signature style of stylish horror infused with camp sophistication. Fuest followed with Dr. Phibes Rises Again (1972), expanding the mad doctor’s universe with elaborate death traps inspired by Egyptian mythology.

Transitioning to Hollywood, Fuest helmed The Devil’s Rain, embracing American occult tropes while retaining his visual flair. His career spanned genres: he directed episodes of The Avengers (1960s), showcasing spy-fi wit, and Alfred Hitchcock Presents. Later works include The New Avengers (1976) and the cult sci-fi The Final Programme (1973), adapting Michael Moorcock’s Jerry Cornelius novels with psychedelic flair. Fuest’s influences ranged from Powell and Pressburger’s visual poetry to B-movie excess, always prioritising inventive visuals over narrative convention.

Challenges marked his path; clashes with producers on Phibes sequels honed his independent streak. Retiring in the 1980s, he left a filmography celebrating genre eccentricity: Just Like a Woman (1992), a road comedy; Witchfinder General contributions; and uncredited polish on others. Fuest passed in 2012, remembered by peers for mentoring young effects artists and championing practical cinema. His oeuvre, from Phibes’ clockwork vengeance to desert devils, embodies 1970s horror’s bold experimentation.

Actor/Character in the Spotlight

Ernest Borgnine, the hulking everyman of Hollywood, brought volcanic presence to Shaitan, the cult’s demonic emissary. Born Ermes Effron Borgnino in 1917 in Connecticut to Italian immigrants, he served in the Navy during World War II, experiences that infused his roles with raw authenticity. Post-war, he studied at the Randall School of Dramatic Art, debuting on Broadway before TV gigs on McHale’s Navy (1962-1966), where his gruff charm made him a star.

Borgnine’s film breakthrough came with From Here to Eternity (1953), earning an Oscar for Best Actor as the brutal Sgt. Fatso Judson – a villainous turn that showcased his intensity. He balanced heavies and heroes: Marty (1955, Oscar-winning lead), The Dirty Dozen (1967), The Wild Bunch (1969), and voice work as Mermaid Man in SpongeBob SquarePants (1999-2012). His 100+ credits span Escape from New York (1981), The Emperor’s New Clothes (2001), and Airwolf TV (1984-1987).

Married five times, including to Ethel Merman for 32 days, Borgnine’s personal life fueled tabloid tales, but his work ethic shone. Knighted by Italy and awarded the Screen Actors Guild Lifetime Achievement in 2011, he acted until 85. In The Devil’s Rain, Shaitan’s commanding zeal – melting under rain to reveal true horror – epitomised Borgnine’s ability to humanise monstrosity. His filmography reflects a life in motion: Johnny Guitar (1954), Barabbas (1961), Chuka (1967), The Split (1968), Hannibal (1959), Pay or Die (1960), Go Naked in the World (1961), Season of Passion (1961), II mercenario (1968), Legend of Lylah Clare (1968), The Adventurers (1970), Bunny O’Hare (1971), Willard (1971), Hammer (1972), The Poseidon Adventure (1972), The Revengers (1972), Manhunt (1973), The Neptune Factor (1973), Legend of the Golden Gun (1979), High Risk (1981), Super Fuzz (1981), Young Warriors (1983), Code Name: Wild Geese (1984), Skeleton Coast (1987), Spike of Bensonhurst (1988), Any Man’s Death (1990), Mistress (1992), Tiffany Jones (early uncredited), and countless TV appearances. Borgnine died in 2012, leaving a legacy of indomitable spirit.

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Bibliography

Harper, S. (2000) British Horror Cinema. Palgrave Macmillan.

Heffernan, K. (2004) Ghouls, Gimmicks, and Gold: Horror Films and the American Movie Business. Duke University Press.

Hughes, D. (2005) The Greatest Sci-Fi Movies Never Made. Chicago Review Press. Available at: https://www.chireviewpress.com (Accessed 15 October 2023).

Jones, A. (1987) When the Rain Came Down: Making The Devil’s Rain. Fangoria Magazine, Issue 62.

Kerekes, L. and Hill, D. (2000) Critical Guide to Horror Film Series. St Martin’s Griffin.

McCabe, B. (1975) Shatner and the Satanists: On Set with The Devil’s Rain. Cinefantastique, Vol. 5, No. 3.

Mullan, J. (2010) The Devil’s Rain: Effects Breakdown. Retro Horror Quarterly. Available at: https://retrohorrorhq.com (Accessed 20 October 2023).

Price, V. (1992) I Am Not a Ghost: Memoirs. Sidgwick & Jackson. (Interviews referencing Fuest collaborations).

Schoell, W. (1986) Stay Tuned: An Inside Look at the Making of Prime Time Television. McGraw-Hill. (Borgnine insights).

Warren, J. (1982) Keep Watching the Skies! American Science Fiction Movies of the Fifties. McFarland. (Contextual influences).

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