Unique in only the way a Richard Stanley film can be, Dust Devil is a genre mash-up filled with absolute fever dream logic from start to finish. And it can now be yours in 4k, thanks to Kino Lorber!
Dust Devil is absolutely fascinating. Released during the ‘90s indie renaissance, Dust Devil follows Hardware as being a very singular work from a very peculiar filmmaker, Richard Stanley. While Hardware was a film about a killer robot, Dust Devil instead drops us in the middle of the desert following a supernaturally powered serial killer. Both films carry the same Richard Stanley style though; sun blistered visuals, intense violence, and plots that read like they were written on the walls of an insane asylum.
Dust Devil follows Wendy Robinson (Chelsea Field) who heads into the African desert from her South African home, fleeing her abusive husband. Driving deep into the sand dunes, she comes across a handsome hitchhiker (Robert John Burke) who at first seems mysterious and alluring in his ways, but quickly reveals himself to be incredibly dangerous. Looking for Wendy is detective Ben Mukurob (Zakes Mokae), who is hunting a serial killer who’s been brutally killing people for seemingly decades, painting the walls with their blood.
Dust Devil is, as the kids would say, “all about the vibes”. It is a film that flows in a dream world, never really feeling like reality, as we usually sit high above the scene, watching cars the size of ants move through vast red landscapes of rock and sand. The narrative, while straight forward enough, still exists in an off balanced reality, where a police officer tries to protect a dead town, a woman drives into a war zone to escape a bad home, and a serial killer targets the suicidal for his black magic rituals.
What adds even more to this unreality is the deep, deep lore that Richard Stanley weaves throughout. We are introduced to a sort of folk magic early on, as we watch the Dust Devil paint the walls with his victims blood, before desecrating the corpse. As the film goes on, we learn more and more about a parallel world of ancient demons that quickly becomes a hodgepodge of different faiths and religions, Stanley building a cryptic magic out of dozens of sources, creating a wholly unique and insane lore.
It all culminates, the serial killer thriller and the western and the supernatural spook show, in a surreal cat and mouse chase through a deserted town, partially eaten by the desert. It’s exactly how this should end, especially the gorgeous final shot of military vehicles cruising down a sweltering highway towards a woman with a shotgun.
Specs:
Per usual for Kino, this 4k transfer looks incredible. Last time I watched Dust Devil was on a beat up DVD in college, so seeing it in 4k was revelatory. The painterly color palette here is gorgeous, and the 4k really pulls out the crimson reds of the day, and the deep melancholic blues of the night. This is the exact type of film you want to see in its best presentation, and that’s what Kino has done here. Included here are also both cuts, the directors cut and the theatrical. Personally, I think your best bet is to go director’s cut, and avoid the Weinstein mandated cut-to-hell theatrical version.
For extras, it’s a little slim, but they definitely help give a deeper perspective on the production. Included are an audio commentary with Richard Stanley (on the director’s cut), Richard Stanley – Dust Devil and Other Misadventures – a 2006 featurette, original storyboards and polaroids, and an original 16mm trailer and theatrical trailer.
Richard Stanley had an overall short career. You have the early success of Hardware and Dust Devil, before the disastrous Island of Dr. Moreau essentially killed his career (the final nail in the coffin came during his resurgence after Color Out Of Space due to domestic abuse allegations). It’s a shame, because the incredible eye for filmic sense and world building he shows in Dust Devil is that of a true artist. All we can do is appreciate the work now, and enjoy the incredibly intricate and unique worlds he created.
