The film stars Elliott Gould (in his second of two roles for Disney) as sleazy Los Angeles landlord Max Devlin, who - less than four minutes into the film - is hit by a bus and is sent right into perdition. There he's placed before a panel of business-suited middle-men, led by the Devil’s chief henchman, Barney Satin (played by Bill Cosby, in what was - at the time - an ironic bit of against-type casting.) When it’s decided that Max deserves an eternity in the “horrible … horrible” level 4, he’s offered a way out: get three pure-hearted youngsters to sign over their souls, and he will be spared. Max naturally agrees, and is soon introduced to his targets: Stella Summers (Julie Budd,) a 20-something wannabe soft-rock songstress with crippling stage fright; the improbably-named Nerve Nordlinger (David Knell,) a bookish teenage geek who wants to be a motocross champ; and 11-year old Toby Hart (Adam Rich,) a kid who wants nothing more than to match up his widowed mother, Penny (Susan Anspach,) with an eligible father-figure. To aid in his despicable deeds, Max is granted a few handy magical powers, including the ability to teleport between his three marks, and to grant their innermost wishes - as long as they’re within eyeshot of him.
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| Damn dirty deed doers. |
As you can no doubt imagine, the story is one of a clod finding redemption through demonic intervention (kind of like a reverse It’s a Wonderful Life,) and for the most part it works. That being said, the three plotlines play out with varying levels of success. Nerve Nordlinger's story (jeez, what a name; did they want to have a first and last name that both sound like “nerd”?) is given the smallest amount of screentime, since it's by far the least interesting. It can be succinctly summed up thusly: nerd wants to race motorcycles, Max grants him the ability to ride motorcycles. It doesn’t help that the young character has all the personality of a cardboard box, and actor David Knell (who would go on to a career full of small television roles) doesn’t imbue any additional energy into him.
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| The dirt-bike kid. |
Toby’s story, which ends up being the film’s central focus almost by default, misses the mark due to a number of odd choices by the filmmakers. The young boy first encounters Max at a carnival, where he accepts the middle-aged man’s offer to buy him ride tickets and snacks in exchange for letting him spend the afternoon with him. Eww. By the time Max is walking the boy home (where his mother runs an in-home daycare,) Toby is saying that his fondest wish would be for “Uncle Max” to be his new Dad. Umm … what? I guess we’re to assume that Max is using his newly-acquired magic to sway the youth, but the whole thing is still two steps beyond squicky. The ensuing love story between Max and Penny gets off to an equally weird start. Following a series of altruistic gestures on Max’s part (including buying new playground equipment for her daycare,) the two share a few fireside kisses over the sleeping form of young Toby - who discreetly awakens and offers the camera a big, toothy grin. Viewers are once again left to assume that Penny must be rapidly falling for Max due to his black magic, yet by the film’s end Max himself is confessing to her that he loves her “more than anything.” Gould's interaction with Susan Anspach is sadly free of the chemistry needed to pull off such a brief love story. And while young Adam Rich is a decent enough child actor, Gould unfortunately can’t seem to act at all natural with him, either. Even with some suspension of disbelief, this whole storyline feels insincere.
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| Like a "My Buddy" doll come to life... |
Strangely it’s Stella’s storyline that ends up being the most affecting. While not very original, the story of a young singer/songwriter who rapidly rises to fame only to find disillusionment could’ve potentially been expanded upon to replace the other, less interesting plotlines. The success of Stella’s tale is helped by a memorably earnest acting turn by Julie Budd, as well as the pair of songs that she performs with believable gusto, written by EGOT-winning songwriter Marvin Hamlisch. The film’s finale (in which all the characters gather at Stella’s “farewell” concert) sees her plotline go out in a Star Is Born-style extravaganza of multicolored stage lights and spinning-camera shots.
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| For Stella, singing lessons come second after her crochet class. |
I suppose I can’t proceed further without addressing the elephant in the room: that of disgraced actor and comedian Bill Cosby. As noted earlier, the casting of the I Spy actor was purposefully done to play against his amiable public persona (a stunt that would’ve been even more noteworthy following the launch of his successful sitcom, The Cosby Show, three years later.) That by 2017 audiences are keenly aware of the despicable truth behind his chummy façade, watching Cosby play an agent of the Devil doesn’t seem so unbelievable any longer. As for this film, Cosby is called upon to deliver an oddly non-comedic performance, mostly serving as straight-man to Gould’s befuddled schlub. His Barney Satin (geddit?) pops in and out of the film, visible only to Max, offering some pithy commentary (as when Max instructs Nerve to drive his motorbike “like a bat out of Hell,” to which Barney sneers, “Have you seen one of our bats?”) and mild threats to keep him focused on his cruel task. Near the film’s conclusion, when Max has his inevitable change of heart and threatens to destroy the contracts promising Barney the kids’ souls, Cosby gets his big moment to overact. Suddenly appearing amidst smoke and hellfire, Barney’s true form is revealed, in all it’s red body-paint and Halloween Devil-horned glory. Brandishing a pitchfork (or is it a trident?), Barney taunts Max with threats of eternal pain and suffering, in a loud, angry shout that sounds suspiciously like the “angry wife” voice from Cosby’s own Himself comedy routine.
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| Who the hell took the last Pudding Pop!?! |
The Devil and Max Devlin co-exists with a small number of films that many would find it hard to believe came from “House of Mouse” Disney. Apparently this was the first film the studio released containing profanity (a couple of “damnits” and an unfinished “son of a bitch”,) and was one of the features that lead to the eventual creation of Touchstone Pictures, to help keep the Walt Disney Pictures brand clean (discussed in my review of 1983’s Never Cry Wolf.) Personally, I wouldn’t put a movie about a guy being recruited by lawyers from Hell outside the realm of possibility for Disney to produce, even discounting the studios “dark turn” in the early ‘80s. For one thing, while the film’s representation of Hell may, at first glance, seem pretty intense for the family-friendly studio, it’s stereotypical “fire and brimstone” look actually comes off rather cartoonish, and can’t hold a candle to the startlingly Hellish landscape revealed during the climax of 1979’s The Black Hole (oops, uhm … SPOILERS - we haven't gotten to that one yet, have we?) Besides, looking at the studio’s long history there were already a fair number of depictions of Hell, from the 1935 short Pluto’s Judgment Day (with an afterlife full of demonic Cats) to the “Night on Bald Mountain” segment of Fantasia. For me, Disney’s most memorable portrayal of the underworld wasn’t actually in one of their filmed productions - but we’ll save that for a future “Theme Park Rundown” article.
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| Oh Hell no! |
What actually makes this film seem different from Disney’s other productions is a matter of aesthetics. Visually, The Devil and Max Devlin is one ugly movie. While the red-hued scenes set within Hell are fairly dynamic (and some of Stella’s concert performances throw a bit of colorful light into the mix,) much of the film exists in a world of dull grays and mushy browns. Many characters exhibit an ever-present clammy sheen, as if the production was perpetually filming on the hottest day of the year. The various settings (Max’s rundown apartment building; Nerve’s dusty, beer-belly populated motocross track; Toby’s asphalt-floored carnival; and the tacky, hot-tub adorned suites where Stella attends record-executive’s parties) seem as though they were designed to make Hell seem like a nicer place to be. Perhaps an attempt to capture a visceral realism, the look of this film is disappointing.
In spite of everything going against it, I have to admit that I was mildly amused by the picture. Of course, this may be due to my expectations being at rock-bottom going in (and having a strong drink in-hand while watching certainly didn’t hurt.) Like my beloved Condorman of the same year, there are many instances of dumb (and mildly offensive) humor which wouldn’t fly today that I couldn’t believe I was actually chuckling at. Case in point: the bus that kills Max at the film’s start is full of Hare Krishnas, who promptly begin to dance joyfully and bang their tambourines upon his apparent resurrection atop the paramedic’s stretcher. Stupid, dated, derogatory? Yes - but I just couldn’t help myself. There are also some odd moments in the film that most would say work against it, but I appreciated for their come-from-nowhere charm. These include the moments when the camera randomly pauses to admire the Converse All-Stars worn by a cello player at Max and Penny’s wedding, and the lingering shots of awkwardly Disco-dancing extras at Stella’s release party.
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| Just call me angel of the morning... |
However, as nominally entertaining as I found the film, I couldn’t shake the feeling of unease from contemporary events surrounding Cosby - much like the sickening feeling one now gets when “The Weinstein Company” logo appears before a once-favorite movie. Watching Cosby’s sinister performance as a personification of evil, I couldn’t help but think about what the man was doing in real life, possibly around the same time this movie was filmed; about all those women he victimized, and all the poor souls taken advantage of in reality. Nowadays, envisioning the man surrounded by the flames of eternal damnation doesn’t seem far off the mark.
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