THE BROTHERHOOD OF SATAN 1971
The Brotherhood of Satan (1971) is perhaps one of the most striking installments of the ’70s occult films, not just of that decade but of any film within its iteration of cinematic narratives that delve into the dark allure of devil worship, which often intersect with the timeless quest for eternal youth, creating a fascinating dichotomy between the pursuit of immortality and the surrender to malevolent forces.
It is a supernatural horror film directed by Bernard McEveety, who is known for his work on various television series. Strother Martin, as Dr. Duncan, gives a tour de force as a terrifying High Priest who wages war on old age by using the dark arts to take possession of children’s bodies and use them as the vessels of his coven’s souls. It’s a depraved notion and not without impact on the screen. McEveety does it with a very unpretentious stroke of low-budget/high art that comes across as though, on the surface, surreal; it disturbs at our visceral core. That’s why I love ’70s horror!
L.Q. Jones stars as Sheriff Pete, Charles Bateman plays Ben Holden, Ahna Capri is Nicky, and Charles Robinson plays the ill-fated Father Jack.
The Brotherhood of Satan envelops us in a quietly malignant atmosphere where rural serenity morphs into claustrophobic menace and panic. Set in the American Southwest, the story follows Ben Holden, a widower traveling with his young daughter K.T. and girlfriend Nicky.
They stumble upon a small California community inexplicably plagued by mysterious deaths and gripped by terror and the disappearances of children. Not only are the children missing, but no one, including the newly arrived Ben Holden, his daughter, or his girlfriend, can leave the boundaries of the town, not unlike others who attempted before and wound up as bloody, mangled victims.
Unbeknownst to them, a coven of elderly Satanists, led by Duncan, is orchestrating these events in a bid for immortality by transferring their souls into the bodies of the kidnapped children.
The film blends elements of small-town paranoia, occult horror, and psychological tension. It features inventive death scenes and a surreal atmosphere, particularly in scenes involving the children and their toys. The narrative builds to a climactic ritual where the line between reality and supernatural horror blurs.
L.Q. Jones, who also produced the film alongside Alvy Moore, initially titled it “Come In, Children” ( This is the title of my extended feature coming soon. If I truly had a gun to my head, The Brotherhood of Satan would wind up on my top twenty of all-time classic horror films), preferring this over the eventual title. Jones described the film as different from typical monster pictures, stating, “We’ve got a little blood in it—to appease the popcorn rattlers—but there are no silver bullets or crosses or stakes. The ending is deliberately up in the air. We don’t explain it; we just lay it out.”
The film’s power lies in its methodical unraveling, the onslaught of eerie silences, intrusive rituals, and the chillingly composed senior citizens whose gentle exteriors disguise their unfathomable evil. McEveety masterfully exploits the emptiness of the landscape and the suffocating confines of the town, generating palpable dread from the smallest details: sidelong glances, cryptic meetings, the relentless sound of a music box. As the protagonists are drawn deeper into the web of occult conspiracy, all innocence is subsumed, reason crumbles, and the film’s story unspools not merely as a battle against supernatural horror but as a profound meditation on paranoia, helplessness, and the relentless intrusion of darkness into ordinary life. The Brotherhood of Satan is a grimly poetic, psychologically unsettling, and unshakable in its haunting vision.
While not a blockbuster hit, The Brotherhood of Satan has gained a cult following for its unique approach to Satanic themes and its atmospheric small-town setting. It stands as a notable entry in the 1970s occult horror genre, offering a more cerebral and ambiguous take on devil worship than many of its contemporaries.
And coming very soon, prepare for me to fully descend into the choking silence and ritualistic shadow of The Brotherhood of Satan, where isolation is more than a mood, it’s a suffocating presence, and every invocation carries the weight of a malevolent power driven by a lust for immortality. The unnerving calm of small-town normalcy buckles under the pressure of the occult, as innocence dissolves, and ordinary lives become pawns on a ceremonial altar of fear.