The Nun and the Devil (1973)

The Nun and the Devil is the kind of 1970s Italian shocker that earns its power less from jump scares than from the slow, suffocating realization that a convent can be as political and predatory as any royal court. Domenico Paolella stages the story like a feverish moral thriller—candles, stone corridors, whispered alliances—where ambition, desire, and faith collide until the atmosphere turns downright poisonous. Ornella Muti and Martine Brochard bring a charged, human intensity to the rivalries, making the drama feel urgent even when the film is luxuriating in its decadent, baroque vibe. Fair warning: it’s frank about sex and cruelty and it aims its anger at institutional hypocrisy, so it won’t be for everyone—but if you like your horror laced with historical intrigue and righteous outrage, it’s a gripping descent.

The Nun and the Devil is clearly aiming for a lurid, anti-clerical drama: a power struggle inside a convent where sex, politics, and hypocrisy collide, with a grim Inquisition payoff. The problem is that “horror” here is more about exploitation-flavored scandal than genuine scares, and the storytelling can feel sleazy and episodic, leaning on shock and melodrama instead of building real tension or character depth. If you’re expecting a supernatural nun movie or a tasteful historical drama, this will likely feel like a bait-and-switch. Still, it has a certain 1970s Euro-cinema atmosphere, a nasty cynicism about institutional power, and a committed cast that may satisfy viewers who specifically want provocative nunsploitation rather than subtlety.