Dust Devil (1992) October 7th, 2023

The Criterion Channel went all out this October featuring four distinct horror collections; High School Horror, Art-House Horror, Pre-Code Horror, and ’90s Horror. This brutal buffet is packed with pantry staples like Freaks and Suspiria but it’s also sporting my favorite delicacy, movies I didn’t know existed! Such was the case, with Richard Stanley’s Dust Devil.

Set on the border of South Africa and Namibia, Dust Devil introduces us to a demonic killer whose ritualistic murders hold the key to his return to his spirit realm. An expository narrator walks us through the intricacies of the mythology throughout the entirety of Dust Devil, but as it drags on the legend gets muddier and the gleam of a shiny new horror franchise tarnishes. We’re shown (and told) how his unique brand of soul taking works. He’s drawn to people who’re looking for a way out of their daily misery. He coaxes them into compliance with mind control magic before they’re murdered. Then he decorates the scene with ritualistic symbols drawn in their blood and entrails. This encompasses the first 20+ minutes of Dust Devil, and the demon isn’t even our protagonist.

That would be Wendy Robinson, an abused wife who’s considered suicide before she met the Dust Devil. Our co-leads meet and decide to travel together as they’re tracked by local authorities who’re investigating a string of gory murders. A large portion of Dust Devil is a tensionless road romance picture between a demon and a woman who wants to die, but it’s not nearly as cool as that sounds because Wendy eventually figures it out when the demon tries to kill her.

From then on Dust Devil is a textbook horror chase except that we spent the first half hour becoming attached to the bad guy like he’s a lion in The Lion King. Now that we’re halfway through you want to remind us that he’s a predator and we should shirk when he kills and eats gazelle? You can’t do that to an audience, this is the ’90s! The age of Superman is over, we’re wearing Austin 3:16 t-shirts and debating which of our friends is a Mr. Pink or Mr. Blonde. We’ve picked up cursing from South Park and we’re reading The Punisher without digesting its glorification of extrajudicial execution. We don’t identify with the victim anymore, it’s cooler to like Natural Born Killers.

In many ways Dust Devil wants to be part of the edgy anti-hero wave of the ’90s but can’t maintain the charade. It looks the part with visuals evoking other edgy films of the time. The movie just doesn’t pack a punch, even when Wendy becomes the new Dust Devil in the end (spoilers?). Despite being a beautifully photographed film full of expensive looking helicopter shots, incredible set designs, and a Scannersesque shotgun blast to the head, Dust Devil falls short of being iconic.

Dust Devil isn’t a bad movie, it’s just not a movie to get excited over. It’s like ketchup flavored Doritos. They’re interesting, and they deserve to be recognized for achieving their goal, but they’re not satisfying and I’m not buying them again.