“The Devil Made Me Do It—But I Still Blame the Director”
If Here Comes the Devil were a person, it would be that guy at a party who insists on telling a ghost story that doesn’t go anywhere, forgets half the details, and then vomits symbolism all over your shoes.
Directed by Adrián García Bogliano, this 2012 Mexican horror film starts with a premise that’s actually promising—two kids vanish near a cursed hill and return… changed. What could go wrong? Answer: everything.
This movie is like The Omen and Poltergeist had a baby, and that baby was raised by David Lynch and then left unsupervised in a cave for twelve years.
The Opening: “Lesbians, Murder, and Rocks—Oh My”
The film kicks off with a serial killer attacking a lesbian couple. Don’t ask why. It’s never explained, relevant, or even tonally consistent. It’s like the director opened a hat labeled “Edgy Opening Scene Ideas” and pulled out “Random Lesbian Murder.”
One woman dies, the other mortally wounds the killer, and he crawls up a rocky hill before disappearing. Apparently, this hill doubles as a Hellmouth, a portal to evil, and possibly a metaphor for the film’s pacing—it’s long, steep, and leads nowhere.
Years later, an entirely new family arrives at this same hill because, naturally, cursed geological formations make great picnic spots.
Family Fun on Satan’s Playground
Meet Felix and Sol, played by Francisco Barreiro and Laura Caro. He’s a dad with anger issues, she’s a mom with the emotional stability of a haunted blender. They take their kids, Adolfo and Sara, on a wholesome family outing to—you guessed it—the hill of death.
When the kids wander into a cave, the parents shrug and let them. Because what’s the worst that could happen? It’s not like there’s a history of murder, curses, or demonic earthquakes there.
The kids vanish. Hours pass. Sol cries. Felix scowls. There’s even an earthquake because apparently Hell’s tremors come with Dolby surround sound. Then the next morning, police find the kids alive, wandering around like zombies.
It’s a miracle! Or a plot device. Mostly the latter.
The Kids Are (Not) Alright
Back home, the family tries to return to normal, but the kids start acting weird. Weirder than usual for children who probably just experienced trauma and a week’s worth of bad parenting.
They stare at walls, talk in monotone, and exude the kind of creepy energy that makes you want to call an exorcist and a therapist simultaneously. At one point, the film hints at possible sexual abuse. Then it drops that idea for demonic possession. Then it sort of circles back, then drops it again. It’s like the screenplay couldn’t decide whether to be a psychological drama or a Goosebumps episode.
The parents suspect Lucio, a local weirdo who looks like he was cast directly from “Creepy Guy #3” auditions. Without a shred of evidence, Felix and Sol decide to kill him. They don’t even hesitate. This isn’t detective work—it’s Murder, She Screamed.
Parental Guidance Suggested (for Violence and Dumb Decisions)
They confront Lucio, kill him, and dispose of the body. Problem solved, right? Nope. The hauntings get worse. Doors slam, lights flicker, and the kids spasm like they’ve been possessed by the spirit of a rave DJ.
At this point, Sol becomes convinced something supernatural is going on, while Felix—ever the rational thinker—buys a gun, because clearly, bullets work great on metaphysical entities.
Their marriage devolves into a screaming match about demons versus realism, which honestly is more compelling than anything involving the ghosts.
The Babysitter Diaries
Just when you think the movie can’t get any messier, it brings in a babysitter subplot.
Turns out that on the night Lucio was killed, Sol’s friend Marcia was watching the kids. The next morning, she disappeared. When Sol tracks her down, Marcia delivers the single greatest line of confused exposition ever uttered in horror cinema: “They were lifeless. I was assaulted by the devil. And then I saw them commit incest.”
That’s right. We go from missing kids to demonic possession to Flowers in the Attic in under 90 minutes.
At this point, I half expected the director to wander on-screen holding a chalkboard labeled “SYMBOLISM?”
Sol’s DIY Demon Investigation
Determined to end this madness, Sol heads back to the hill—alone, because she’s clearly never seen a horror film before. She ventures into the cave and finds her kids’ decomposing bodies dressed exactly as they were the day they disappeared.
Meanwhile, Felix is home saying he just dropped the kids off at school. Because in this movie, logic is for the weak.
Sol stumbles out of the cave, horrified, and does the only reasonable thing left: she seeks out the local gas station attendant for exposition.
This man, who conveniently happens to be the father of the woman murdered in the opening scene, gives her the lowdown: the hill is cursed, demons possess people, and earthquakes mean someone’s about to get body-snatched.
It’s like if Stephen King wrote The Exorcist after taking NyQuil.
The Grand Finale: Tooth Fairy Rules Apply
Armed with this knowledge, Sol decides to deal with her possessed kids in the most confusing way possible. She drugs them, dresses them up in formal clothes, props them at the breakfast table, and prepares to die in a gas explosion. Because nothing says “good parenting” like chemical warfare and Sunday best attire.
Instead, she’s attacked by invisible forces, sees ghost versions of her children, and flees. She meets Felix, tells him to come to the gas station (for reasons that remain classified), and they both go back to the cave for one last supernatural intervention.
Inside, Felix discovers the kids’ corpses and finally puts two and two together—albeit far too late to matter. So naturally, he shoots his wife, then himself. The earth quakes again, probably out of sheer exasperation.
Moments later, demonic versions of Felix and Sol climb into their car and drive off, lurching around like toddlers learning stick shift. It’s the perfect ending to a movie that’s been in neutral from the start.
The Performances: The Real Possession Was the Acting
Francisco Barreiro and Laura Caro deserve hazard pay. They spend most of the film sweating, crying, and yelling at each other like participants in a possessed episode of Marriage Story.
The child actors are fine—mainly because standing still and staring into space is half the job in horror movies. But the script gives everyone the emotional range of a stale tortilla.
By the time the credits roll, you don’t care who’s alive, who’s dead, or who’s currently renting space to Satan.
The Horror: Shaky Cams and Shakier Logic
To the film’s credit, it has atmosphere. The rocky hill is creepy, the lighting is moody, and the cave looks convincingly like a gateway to Hell. Unfortunately, everything else is a gateway to confusion.
The scares are repetitive—flickering lights, whispering kids, random earthquakes, rinse, repeat. It’s like Paranormal Activity on a tequila bender.
Even the score sounds like it’s trying to escape the film.
The Moral (If You Can Find It)
If Here Comes the Devil teaches us anything, it’s that parenting is hard, especially when your kids are demons and your husband’s a trigger-happy idiot. Also, if a gas station attendant ever tells you a hill is cursed, maybe go to Disneyland instead.
Final Rating
1.5 cursed caves out of 5.
Here Comes the Devil promises possession but delivers confusion. It’s a movie about evil that’s so muddled, the real horror is trying to explain it afterward.
Somewhere, the Devil is watching this film and saying, “Don’t blame me for this one.”
