How to Play Satan, Scandalize the World with Demonic Ass-Kissing, and Spend a Fortune on Medieval Nuns Having a Meltdown
It’s 3:15 AM. My eyes feel like they’ve been rubbed with coarse sandpaper, the cold pizza on my desk is starting to look back at me, and I am currently watching a group of elderly medieval women flying over a cardboard village on broomsticks, while a hairy, long-horned Devil with a giant, wagging tongue makes obscene gestures at a convent of nuns who are actively destroying a church in a state of mass hysteria.
Welcome, my friends, to the dizzying, sacrilegious, and absolutely wild world of Benjamin Christensen.
If you’ve never heard of Häxan (also known as Witchcraft Through the Ages), congratulations: your local priest hasn’t had to perform an emergency exorcism on your streaming history. For the uninitiated, this Swedish-Danish silent masterpiece is one of the most unique, expensive, and controversial films of the silent era. The director, Benjamin Christensen, had a simple, highly daring, and incredibly expensive strategy:
- Spend a record-breaking budget (nearly 2 million Swedish kronor) on a documentary-style essay film that mixes historical lectures with highly dramatized, hallucinatory re-enactments of medieval witchcraft.
- Cast yourself as Satan, cover yourself in fur and horns, and wag your tongue at the camera with the enthusiastic energy of a heavy metal frontman.
- Include so much nudity, graphic torture, and demonic debauchery that your movie gets instantly banned in several countries (including the United States) for decades.
The result? Häxan (1922).
The “Plot” (If we can even call it that)
Häxan is structured in seven parts, operating as a visual essay. It begins with a dry, academic slide-show lecture explaining how ancient and medieval people viewed the cosmos, devils, and hell.
But then, Christensen throws the textbook out the window and dives headfirst into the dramatizations. We see an old woman brewing a love potion out of cat grease and dead men’s fingernails; an Inquisition trial where a terrified woman confesses to giving birth to a horde of slimy devil-babies just to make the inquisitors stop torturing her; a convent of highly stressed nuns who undergo a sudden, screaming case of “demonic possession” (desecrating altars and dancing wildly); and a sequence depicting the legendary “osculum infame”—witches lining up to kiss the Devil’s rear end.
Finally, the film jumps to 1922, arguing that what medieval people called “demonic possession” is actually just what modern psychiatry calls “hysteria” and mental illness.
Why You Need to Watch This Tonight
- The Director is Having Too Much Fun as Satan: Benjamin Christensen plays the Devil himself, and his performance is legendary. He doesn’t just stand there looking menacing—he grunts, he wags his massive tongue, he climbs into people’s bedrooms, and he operates a giant butter churn to tempt women into sin. He is clearly having the absolute time of his life, and he steals every single scene he is in.
- The “Devil’s Butt” Scene: Yes, this 1922 silent movie actually depicts the legendary medieval myth of witches kissing the Devil’s backside. It is exactly as bizarre, shocking, and hilarious as it sounds. It is the ultimate “I can’t believe they filmed this in the 1920s” moment, and it is the primary reason the film was locked in a vault by censors for forty years.
- The Hieronymus Bosch Visuals: The cinematography and practical effects are breathtaking. The flying-witch sequences (using elaborate wire-work and miniature villages) and the scenes of demons popping out of chimneys look like a painting by Pieter Bruegel or Hieronymus Bosch come to life. It has a gritty, woodcut-style texture that is incredibly atmospheric and genuinely spooky.
- The William S. Burroughs Connection: If you want to make this experience even more trippy, look for the 1968 re-release version of the film. It was shortened, paired with a fantastic jazz score by Jean-Luc Ponty, and narrated by the legendary, gravel-voiced godfather of gonzo literature, William S. Burroughs. Hearing the author of Naked Lunch calmly describe medieval torture devices while a jazz violin plays is a spiritual experience.
The Verdict
Is it a good movie? It is an absolute masterpiece of early horror and documentary filmmaking. It is incredibly daring, visually spectacular, and surprisingly progressive in how it criticizes the cruelty of the Inquisition and the historical mistreatment of women. It is a wild, unforgettable, and highly entertaining ride that still feels incredibly modern, provocative, and dangerous today.
My Rating: 5 out of 5 flying broomsticks that defy the laws of medieval physics.
Wanna see a silent-era gothic nightmare about the history of the occult?
Turn off all the lights, put on some dark ambient music (or find the version narrated by William S. Burroughs), and search for this Swedish silent classic on your favorite retro horror or archive platform. Because the copyright has long since expired, you can watch Benjamin Christensen wag his tongue as the Devil completely free and legally.
[WATCH “Häxan (1922)” ON YOUTUBE (Opens in a new window)]
