While mosthorrorfilms rely on loud scares and frantic pacing, sometimes the ones that have the strongest grip on their audiences are the ones with a slower, creeping terror that causes introspective reflection with subliminal thematic messaging woven into the script. A 2024 release in particular is a perfect example of this fact – it eases its audience in with familiar aesthetics and capitalizes on cultural comfort food, wrapping itself in nostalgia while building dread in the flicker of static and crackle of old tape. Rather than sprinting toward terror and shock, this film allows the tension to simmer, utilizing its atmosphere and control to create a grasp on its audience – resulting in an absorbing kind of horror that holds its audience’s attention without unrelenting gore and sadism.
In an era of over-saturated horror tropes and jump-scare-heavy formulas,Late Night with the Devilemerges not just as a breath of fresh air, but as a jolt to the system. The film, which is now streaming onShudder, isn’t merely a supernatural thriller; it’s a tightly calibrated critique of the media, performance, and the cultural machinery that feeds on spectacle. Disguised in retro aesthetics and framed within the live broadcast of a 1970s talk show, the film delivers aslow-burning descent into chaos that feels uncomfortably familiar— because the real horror isn’t just what’s happening on screen, but how eerily it reflects the world off of it.
Horror in the Spotlight
Set on Halloween night in 1977, the film follows late-night host Jack Delroy as he attempts to boost his flagging ratings with a special live episode featuring skeptics, a parapsychologist, and a young girl allegedly possessed by a demon. What begins as a standard ratings grab devolves into a nightmarish unraveling, broadcast live to millions. It’s a clever conceit, one that writers and directorsCameron and Colin Cairnesexploit to maximum effect. The film doesn’t just lean into the nostalgia of analog horror; it weaponizes it, using the familiar texture of low-res video, era-authentic set design, and canned laughter to lull the viewer into a sense of safety before systematically dismantling it.
The 37 Best Horror Movies on Shudder Right Now
Can’t decide on the right fright for your night? We’ve got you covered.
That sense of safety is key. The talk show format is a cultural comfort food — predictable, formulaic, soothing in its banter and stagecraft.Late Night with the Devilturns that familiarity against us. By the time the horror erupts, the viewer has been lulled into complicity,playing the role of a passive audience member watching the tragedy unfold. And that, ultimately, is the film’s most incisive commentary: it isn’t just about demonic possession, but about the insatiable hunger for content that drives both media producers and viewers alike. The brilliance of the setup is that it doesn’t let the audience off the hook. We are not merely witnessing a descent into madness; we are part of the problem. The appetite for the outrageous, the need to capture attention at any cost, and the willingness to exploit the vulnerable for entertainment value remain constant threads between eras.
Possession by Performance
Unlike most possession stories, the film sidesteps religious tropes and moral binaries. There is no priest, no sacred ritual, no clear lines between good and evil. Instead, the true exorcism needed is one of media ethics. Jack Delroy isn’t a villain in the traditional sense; he’s desperate, grieving, and ultimately complicit in creating a situation that spirals out of control. His decision to platform something dangerous for the sake of ratings is chilling, not because it’s unthinkable, butbecause it’s so believable. We’ve seen its echoes in reality television, livestream meltdowns, and viral tragedies.
David Dastmalchiandelivers a magnetic performance as Delroy, capturing both the charisma of a seasoned host and the cracks in his composure as the night spirals out of control. It’s a performance that balances empathy and repulsion, grounding the film’s themes in a character who feels tragically real and horrifically complicit. The supporting cast, particularlyIngrid Torellias the possessed young guest, elevates the tension with subtle, unnerving performances that play perfectly against the artificiality of the talk show backdrop.
What makes Delroy’s character particularly fascinating is how much of his identity is tied to his public persona. The film blurs the line between performance and reality, not only for the audience but for Delroy himself. His belief that he can control the narrative — that he can manage the dark forces he’s unleashing the same way he manages a tricky interview or a difficult guest — becomes his fatal flaw. His desire to be both entertainer and saviorreveals the narcissism and self-delusion often buried beneath the polished surface of public figures.
This is where the film truly distinguishes itself. It offers not just scares, but a searing indictment of the media’s history of sensationalism. The 1970s setting isn’t just a stylistic choice — it situates the story in the era of televised exorcisms, real-life cult panics, and exploitative daytime programming. The Satanic Panic looms in the background, not just as a cultural reference point but as a framework for understanding how the mass media has long fed on fear. By evoking this specific moment in history, the film draws a direct line to today’s digital landscape, where similar patterns play out in new formats:trauma commodified for clicks, outrage sold as truth, and spectacle prioritized over substance.
In this sense,Late Night with the Devilbecomes a haunting time capsule. Just as the talk show becomes a stage for malevolent forces, our contemporary feeds and timelines have become battlegrounds for influence, ideology, and attention. The film subtly asks what we’re willing to watch — and what we’re willing to ignore —as long as we’re entertained.
The Devil in the Format
Technically, the film is a display in the power of restraint in horror filmmaking. Its found-footage structure is used sparingly but effectively, revealing cracks in the broadcast facade and adding layers of unease. The horror builds gradually, rooted in mood and implication more than gore, though there are multiple moments that will leave your skin crawling. When chaos does erupt, it feels earned. There’s a sense that the camera itself is complicit, that we’re watching something we shouldn’t be — not just because of the supernatural elements, butbecause of the voyeurism the format encourages. The medium itself is the monster inLate Night with the Devil, even more so than the demon itself wreaking havoc on the stage.
The flickering analog static, the slightly off-kilter camera angles, the eerie fidelity to 1970s production techniques all contribute to the mounting dread, its visual language further reinforcing the themes of the script. There’s a lived-in quality to the world of the show that makes the supernatural elements feel all the more intrusive. It’s not just a horror story set in a bygone era; it feels like it could have actually happened, captured and broadcast in real time. What makesLate Night with the Devilso gripping is not just its scares, butits clarity of purpose. This is horror with something to say, and it says it without sacrificing entertainment. Every camera angle, every lighting shift, every awkward silence contributes to the creeping dread, reinforcing the idea that horror isn’t just in what we see —it’s in how we’re made to see it.
In the context of today’s media ecosystem, the film feels alarmingly prescient. We live in a time when live-streamed trauma, influencer breakdowns, and true crime content dominate screens — the spectacle of suffering is more marketable than ever.Late Night with the Deviltaps directly into that cultural moment to hold up a mirror to our own consumption of suffering in the modern era. The question it asks is as relevant as it is uncomfortable: what are we really watching, and why can’t we look away? By the time the credits roll, the viewer isn’t just left with the image of a broadcast gone wrong —they’re left reckoning with their own role as a consumer of spectacle.
