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a statue of Satan in Hail Satan?

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The Satanic Temple is finally getting its big screen moment

Hail Satan? makes a film about Satanists so compelling that you may want to become one

A statue of Baphomet, made by The Satanic Temple.
| Naiti Gmez/Courtesy of Sundance Institute

This review originally ran at the Sundance Film Festival; Hail Satan? is out now in theaters.

In the first moments of the documentary Hail Satan?, which Magnolia Pictures picked up at this year’s Sundance Film Festival for release later this year, a man places a call to a local news station to inform them of an upcoming rally by The Satanic Temple. “The Satanic Temple; S, as in Sam,” he repeats patiently, enunciation crisp, as a figure in a black cloak and horns lurks elsewhere in the house.

The juxtaposition of those two images — in a house with pink walls and rococo-style furniture — is perhaps the perfect encapsulation of the film. Director Penny Lane’s demystification of The Satanic Temple doesn’t disregard the element of absurdity in the divide between theory and practice when it comes to Satanism, nor does it undercut the fact that the religion, by and large, is welcoming, well thought-out, and wholeheartedly earnest. Fortunately, the same adjectives apply to the documentary; Hail Satan? is a devilish delight, a seemingly bottomless well of Satanist charm set side by side with a gripping — and deeply sympathetic — fight for humanity.

As explained in the documentary, Satanism isn’t new per se, but The Satanic Temple as showcased in Hail Satan? is a nascent organization. The earliest footage is from 2013, when the organization was founded, and hit the news for praising Florida Governor Rick Scott, who had signed a bill permitting school districts to have students read “inspirational messages” at assemblies, for “reaffirm[ing] our American freedom to practice our faith openly, allowing our Satanic children the freedom to pray in school.”

The Temple’s spokesman at that initial rally is a hired actor, but as events progress, it’s co-founder Lucien Greaves who comes forward as the public face of the group. Between interviews with Greaves, fellow co-founder Malcolm Jarry, and devotees from all over the world, a clear picture of The Satanic Temple emerges that will likely come as something of a surprise to anyone unfamiliar with the organization’s efforts.

Far from revelling in the destruction of all that’s good in the world, The Satanic Temple is shown doing good. Among the highlights: battling state legislatures over the decision to erect monuments of the 10 Commandments on their Capitol lawns; crashing a protest against abortion; trolling Westboro Baptist Church founder Fred Phelps; picking up litter in public spaces; and setting up drives for sanitary products for women in need.

It’s just that “Satanism” is a word loaded with specific imagery — one of the film’s talking heads is a shadowy figure clearly wearing horns and pointy ears, and other, more readily visible speakers sport a goth or punk (or both) aesthetic — and most commonly associated with evil and chaos. The immediate assumption is that The Satanic Temple is engaging in Devil worship, but, as Greaves explains, “Essentially, we view Satan as a symbolic embodiment of the ultimate rebel against tyranny.” As the rest of the documentary makes clear, Satan is a figurehead rather than the end-all, be-all. None of The Satanic Temple’s members believe in the Devil; they just accept him as a symbol of compassion and empathy towards others.

The primary thing that sets The Satanic Temple apart (besides the name and corresponding symbolism) is a focus on activism. One of The Temple’s seven fundamental tenets is that “the struggle for justice is an ongoing and necessary pursuit that should prevail over laws and institutions,” and all of their efforts visibly support that mission. The other tenets — which include “one’s body is inviolable, subject to one’s own will alone” — have been described as possibly being “truer to the words of Jesus than most Christians,” and the documentary largely supports that assessment.

Lane’s footage most striking features the self-proclaimed Satanists relating exactly why they joined The Satanic Temple, describing the hypocrisy they’d discovered in their previous faiths or the way Satanism doesn’t discriminate based on race, sexual orientation, or gender. (One of the interviewees, a white man, notes how his perspective on discrimination changed after he joined The Satanic Temple and, as a result of his new faith, became subject to a fraction of the snap judgments and harassment that those with less privilege face on a regular basis.)

Despite their constant missives of peace, the Satanists encounter relentless antagonism and pushback from religious protestors and politicians. None of their attackers bother taking the time to hear out the platform they’re damning, inadvertently making a compelling case for Satanism being closer to supposed Christian values than actual Christianity.

2019 Sundance Film Festival - ‘Hail Satan?’ Premiere
Greaves, Lane, and producer Gabriel Sedgwick at the film’s Sundance premiere.
Tibrina Hobson/Getty Images

That doesn’t discount internal struggle. The documentary also deals with the effective excommunication of former Detroit chapter leader Jex Blackmore, and is the segment of the film to deal most directly with the seemingly diametrically opposite mission of The Satanic Temple with the imagery and associated extremity that comes with the organization’s name.

Rituals that Blackmore is shown conducting — involving naked bodies, impaled pigs’ heads, and smashed lights — come closest to what those unacquainted with The Satanic Temple might assume it might be like. At the peak of the most intense of these ceremonies, Blackmore calls for acts of disruption including kidnapping executives and executing the president. It’s this call to arms and to violence that leads to her dismissal from The Satanic Temple, as the organization is strictly non-violent. The decision raises a few questions: How broadly can Satanism be defined? How to reckon with those who would hew more closely to the chaotic energy suggested by the religion’s very name?

The documentary does an admirable — and thoroughly enjoyable — job of grappling with the questions and chronicling the growth of The Satanic Temple, helped along by just how down-to-earth and level-headed all of The Temple’s members (including Blackmore) seem to be. Lane neatly illustrates what The Satanic Temple is rather than what it’s imagined by its detractors to be, and strikes a balance between the admirable and the absurd so well that it’s tempting to join the cause. Who knew Satanists were so lovely?