“For the uninvited, there is much to fear.”
– Sign posted above the entrance to a home in Realm of Satan.
For all of human existence, where there wasn’t an explanation before them, one was created. Myths become legends which become beliefs and then faith. The evidence remains now with the multitude of faiths that exist around the globe, each one offering their interpretation of events (historical or mythological) or providing justification for things tied to nature. As a result, any faith that appears to embrace the darker sides of another is immediately implicated with the absolute evil portions of a faith rather than viewed as something closer to good and more kind. In his latest project, documentarian Scott Cummings (Buffalo Juggalos) plants his camera within the vicinity of the followers of the Church of Satan, capturing moments in their lives that demonstrate the duality that exists within all followers of any faith: the day-to-day and the ritualistic. Experimental in execution, Cummings’s Realm of Satan casts off traditional talking head interviews, narration, or any other methods that might entreat audiences to come discover something less familiar, opting instead to use stillness as a confrontational tool between expectation and reality.
A still from Scott Cummings’s documentary REALM OF SATAN. Photo courtesy of Visit Films.
Documentaries as a genre are about discovery. Whether they possess a traditional narrative arc or not, we, the audience, are invited to discover something about the subject or subject matter. It could be going on a journey of technological exploration that leads to personal fulfillment (Resynator (2024)) or learning more about the interfaith battle to protect women’s reproductive rights (Under G-d (2023)). Cummings doesn’t so smoothly set the audience on a path of investigation with Realm of Satan, so much as sets the camera up to capture whatever happens within the frame — song, dance, performance, ritual, or everyday activities — with the suggestion being that Satanists are no different than any other neighbor in your area. It reminds of the technique used by filmmaker James Benning for Allensworth (2022), in which the documentarian set up their camera in 12 places, one set up per month, each in a different location, so as to explore the idea of time and place, both past and present, in a location that’s seemingly abandoned despite once being a location of life and energy. As used by Cummings, one begins to consider each sequence as a living painting, the camera sitting still, its static position and lengthy hold giving the audience no choice but to examine every aspect of the frame. Sometimes this means holding on a couple as one makes a drink for the other at a private bar presumably in their residence, while another features a man putting on black and white makeup while a woman (first) speaks to an off-camera child before (second) moving around in the background to empty a dishwasher. One setup is resplendent with decorative skulls, red and black coloring being the primaries, and the two dressed as though going to a fine attire event; whereas the other is two people at home going about their regular activities. Sometimes the figures in the scenes stare into the camera, sometimes not at all, but each time we’re not told who is who, their relationship to each other or within the organization, and the only dialogue is that which they speak to each other or comes naturally within the scene.
A still from Scott Cummings’s documentary REALM OF SATAN. Photo courtesy of Visit Films.
To imply that Realm doesn’t contain a narrative, though, would not be entirely correct. It’s just something that slowly appears and whose context is not always clear. Going back to the description of “confrontation,” the first sequence is watching a goat give birth, that same kid becoming a pivotal feature for the rest of the documentary. There’s also the inclusion of a news story involving a home in Poughkeepsie, New York, dubbed “The House of Netherworld” that was burned down in 2021, the members of the Church of Satan still seeking the arsonist who committed the crime. The first can be a touch disquieting to observe if you’re not familiar or comfortable with livestock, while the second is a clear attack on a group of people practicing their First Amendment rights. In both cases, Cummings provides no context as to why either matter within the larger scope of the story, leaving it to us to determine. The issue with the first is that those who don’t possess the foreknowledge that the Church of Satan isn’t as presented by media (entertainment and news), but is a very body-positive, consent-first organization that focuses on the concepts of individualism whose rights stop at the skin of another. The interest isn’t in hurting others, only in seeking pleasure for the self. But how does the goat fit in? Especially when there are sequences that are less improvised and are clearly staged, the audience is left to filter the material through what they perceive as truth. Similarly, the only way to know that the arson incident took place in Poughkeepsie is to do some research, an act only the truly curious might do. Thus, Cummings seems to antagonize the audience into action, to provoke them by giving them enough to feed their preconceptions or to incite curiosity. But a confrontation without release, without direction doesn’t always lend itself to discovery, only avoidance.
A still from Scott Cummings’s documentary REALM OF SATAN. Photo courtesy of Visit Films.
In the afterglow of the film, rattling off the things observed, the choices by Cummings to use static or dynamic shots in a sequence, the utilization of CG in sequences that are clearly staged, EoM Editor Crystal Davidson posited, “Could it be a joke?” — something not entirely out of the ordinary as Church of Satan has been the subject of more than its fair share of critical coverage and is a partner in this experimental doc. Could some of what we see, the presentation of material, the vocalizations used in some of the dialogue — could it all just be taking the piss out of themselves, to give the audience a little bit of what they expect but in a cheeky way? Considering that Realm of Satan lacks a singular voice (literally) or a specific throughline of inquiry, Cummings basing the whole of the film around individual moments that are loosely connected and intertwined through smart editing and staging, it’s more often than not difficult to discern what is to be taken as truth and what remains façade or mystery. Even the presentation of rituals with the language read from their prayer books, to the unaware observer, could easily have been transcribed from something out of the Satanic Panic period of the United States versus from the actual Anton Szandor LaVey-crafted Satanic Bible.
But we can’t know for sure without investigating for ourselves — so maybe Cummings is onto something after all.
Screening during The Overlook Film Festival 2024.
In select theaters August 13th, 2025.
Available on VOD and digital September 2nd, 2025.
For more information, head to the official Asterlight Realm of Satan webpage.
Final Score: 3 out of 5.
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Categories: In Theaters, Reviews
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