The Devil Is in the Broadcast
What if you found a lost television recording from the 1970s—something that never aired again, never got rebroadcast, and everyone who worked on it… disappeared?
That’s the chilling premise behind Late Night with the Devil (2024), a found footage horror gem that masquerades as an old talk show episode before diving headfirst into full-blown demonic possession, psychological breakdowns, and media-driven horror.
Directed by Cameron and Colin Cairnes, the film plays out like an archived taping of a fictional live broadcast—Night Owls with Jack Delroy—where something went catastrophically wrong.
But the scariest part? It all feels real.
David Dastmalchian Steals the Show—Literally
As Jack Delroy, the late-night host teetering between ambition and self-destruction, David Dastmalchian delivers his most compelling performance to date.
Delroy isn’t a monster. He’s a man trying to cling to relevance in a competitive, crumbling industry. Haunted by the death of his wife and desperate for a ratings boost, he invites a series of odd guests onto his Halloween special—including a medium, a skeptic, and a young girl who claims to be possessed.
What begins as campy showmanship slowly warps into chaos.
And Dastmalchian plays it perfectly: sweaty, sympathetic, and slowly unraveling under the weight of his own show.
The Found Footage Format That Actually Works
Found footage horror often feels cheap or gimmicky—but here, the format is the story.
Late Night with the Devil uses a faux broadcast from 1977 as its container. You see camera cuts. Studio cues. Commercial breaks. On-screen graphics. Behind-the-scenes black-and-white security footage. It’s immersive, meticulous, and eerily authentic.
By the time the demonic energy begins to build, you’re not watching a movie—you’re watching a cursed recording that shouldn’t exist.
It echoes the unnerving realism of analog horror projects like The Mandela Catalogue and Local 58, but with higher production value and a narrative throughline that hits hard.
It’s Not Just Possession—It’s a Critique of Media Exploitation
While the film delivers all the occult horror you’d want—seances, Latin chanting, possessed children, and on-air chaos—it also skewers the way media exploits trauma, spectacle, and fear.
Jack Delroy isn’t just hunting for ratings—he’s commodifying suffering. When the show spirals out of control, it’s not just because of demons. It’s because the humans behind the scenes let it happen for views.
In that sense, the film feels eerily modern. Swap out the VHS tape for a viral livestream, and it becomes a warning for the TikTok generation.
The Ending Is the Stuff of Urban Legends
Without spoiling too much, the film ends in a way that cements its mythic power. The screen distorts. The footage cuts out. What you’re left with is not resolution—but implication.
The movie doesn’t just show you horror. It hands it to you, says “here, you deal with this,” and disappears like a cursed tape in a basement archive.
Final Thoughts
Late Night with the Devil isn’t just a clever horror film—it’s an experience. It mimics reality so well that it feels like you’re witnessing something you shouldn’t. And in doing so, it blurs the line between fiction, media, and the supernatural.
It’s one of 2024’s smartest and most disturbing genre films—and it deserves your full attention.
Rating: ★★★★☆ (4/5)
A devilishly clever take on media, possession, and performance—with a format that makes the horror feel dangerously real.