I was born smack in the middle of the 1980s, so I missed the 1970s completely.  From what my parents have told me, it was a pretty cool time to be alive and coming of age (they were in their late teens and early twenties throughout the decade)—great music, crazy fashion, pool halls, etc.  Even though I missed the decade (and can barely claim to have “experienced” the 1980s, the greatest of all recent American decades), the 1970s were everywhere growing up.  South Carolina, like most rural States, lagged behind the pop cultural curve slightly, so the 1970s loomed large in fashion and architecture.  Plus, the 1990s saw a revival of the 1970s aesthetic, so the influence of the decade musically, culturally, and even sartorially was a big part of my early years.

Of course, the 1970s had loads of problems, too—crazy inflation; stagnant job growth; a wildly popular bamboozled out of office, followed by a clueless boob; a devastating, unpopular, unnecessary war.  It seems that I’ll never escape the Brutalist architecture of the time period, which still dominates the crumbling public buildings of offices of local, State, and national governments.  The Lamar Town Hall is a squat, ugly building, facing a squat, ugly U.S. Post Office.  While I like the earth tones of the 1970s—call me crazy, but there’s something about burnt orange, dark mustard, and drab olive-brown that I find aesthetically appealing—the decade’s aesthetic was an affront to Beauty, and probably to God Himself.  Perhaps wide lapels were the sartorial equivalent of the Tower of Babel—“our lapels will reach to touch the Face of God!”  No wonder we struggled under stagflation for so long.

For all its virtues and many, many vices, however, the 1970s possessed a distinct flair, especially when it came to the television talk show and variety show.  So when I heard there was a horror film that took place on the set of a fictional late-night talk show on Halloween of 1977, I had to watch it.  That film is Late Night with the Devil (2023).

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