Seeing [The Devils] made me glad, for the first time, that both Huxley and Whiting are dead, so that they are spared this farrago of witless exhibitionism.

Russell has insured that, through every moment of the picture, we are paying attention not to the great themes of spirit and truth, morality and immorality, but to him. The camera whirls, the smoke wafts in and out, the lights flicker, the music whoops up the frequent climaxes, the editing palpitates, the angles of vision are mostly eccentric….

And what is the self that Russell is so proud of? Part misunderstood German expressionism, part diluted Bergman (out of The Seventh Seal), part diluted Eisenstein (out of Alexander Nevsky and Ivan the Terrible), among other derivations. The only elements that seem echt Russell are the sadism posing as ruthless candor and the anxiety to be taken seriously. (p. 72)