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6.2/10
Senior Film Conservator
A definitive 6.2/10 rating for a film that redefined the boundaries of cult cinema. As the Devil Commands remains a cornerstone of transgressive art.
Honestly, you probably only want to dig this one up if you have a massive soft spot for old melodramas where the villain’s face tells you everything you need to know before he even speaks. If you like your movies snappy and modern, you’ll be bored to tears within twenty minutes.
The pacing is a bit like a Sunday afternoon nap—slow, comfortable, but prone to drifting off into nothingness. It’s got that classic creaky floorboard energy.
Alan Dinehart plays Robert Waldo, and man, does he have a good time being terrible. He’s the kind of guy who probably practices his evil smirk in the mirror while brushing his teeth. There’s a scene where he’s setting up a frame-job that’s just so unnecessarily complicated you have to wonder if he just enjoys the paperwork of being a bad guy.
The whole bit with the candles in the cellar? It’s a little ridiculous. Who has the patience to wait for oxygen to run out when there are easier ways to get the job done? It’s the kind of over-the-top theatricality that makes you miss the days when villains actually took their time.
If you enjoy this kind of vintage crime stuff, you might find some weird common ground here with Shackles of Fear, though that one had a bit more punch to it. This one just feels like it’s going through the motions of a morality play where the moral is just "don't be a jerk to your cousin."
The ending is predictable, but there’s a strange catharsis in watching Waldo get what’s coming to him. It’s not exactly high art, but it’s a decent way to kill an hour if you want something that feels like an old radio play brought to life. 🍿
Sometimes you just want to see a bad guy fail, and this movie delivers that in spades. Don't look for deep meaning, just enjoy the ride into the cellar.
