Do you take delight in watching films, listening to pop music, or reading books? For English learners, movies, songs, and books are one of the most wonderful sources to explore the language! You can indulge in your favorite pastime and still learn some expressions, words of wisdom, and oftentimes good lessons while you’re at it.
#103. The Devil All the Time (2020 film based
on the novel by Donald Ray Pollock)
In the dark
corners of rural Ohio and West Virginia, The Devil All the Time unfolds like a
haunting nightmare from the end of World War II through the 1960s. A tormented
war veteran, a dying wife, blood-soaked prayers, a murderous couple roaming
America’s highways, a spider-handling preacher, and a fugitive guitarist all
cross paths in a world filled with faith, violence, and madness. At the center
stands Arvin Russell, an orphaned boy who grows into a man determined to
protect those he loves—even if it means becoming violent himself. It is a
chilling story where innocence and evil are never far apart.
(preacher
Preston Teagardin said): “Delusions. People are full of 'em.”
ð The
corrupt preacher Preston Teagardin delivers his powerful “Delusions” sermon for
reasons far darker than simply warning his congregation about sin. Behind his
passionate words lies a calculated attempt to manipulate vulnerable people,
protect himself from exposure, and maintain control. He is a sexual predator
who hides behind his religious authority. By repeatedly teaching his
congregation about “delusions,” he creates a convenient shield for himself. If
one of his victims ever accuses him, he can simply dismiss her story as a
sinful fantasy or a delusion. In a deeply religious community, his word is far
more likely to be trusted than that of a vulnerable young girl.
In this respect, preacher Teagardin
does not merely preach—he watches. By describing specific sins and personal
weaknesses, he makes members of the congregation feel exposed. He can observe
who becomes uncomfortable, ashamed, or emotionally shaken. Perhaps most
disturbingly, Teagardin uses the idea of “delusion” to reverse blame. When
Lenora confronts him about her pregnancy, he calls her crazy and delusional. Instead
of accepting responsibility for his abuse, he convinces his victims that their
suffering and confusion are the result of their own sinful thoughts and
desires. Teagardin's sermon is therefore not simply a warning about sin.
(Narrator
of the film about Sheriff Bodecker): “Bodecker believed that people were like
dogs; once they start digging, they don’t wanna stop.”
ð
The
narrator suggests that once people become obsessed with a secret, a clue, or an
unanswered question, they often cannot stop searching—even when the truth may
ultimately destroy them. That is, once people discover something suspicious,
they cannot simply let it go. They tend to feel compelled to keep digging. The
deeper they search, the more likely they are to uncover painful and dangerous
truths. Like a dog following a scent or digging endlessly into the ground,
human curiosity, guilt, and obsession can lead people toward their own
destruction. In the movie, this narration reflects the dark world hidden
beneath the seemingly quiet towns of Ohio and West Virginia. Beneath the
surface lie secrets, corruption, violence, and sins that refuse to stay buried.
(Willard
Russell said to his son Arvin): “The next time one of them starts this shit, I
want you to finish it, you understand?... Just got to pick the right
time."
ð Willard
Russell’s advice to his son Arvin shows that violence is not simply an act—it
is an inheritance. Traumatized by the horrors of war and convinced that the
world belongs to predators, Willard teaches his son not merely to defend
himself, but to strike with patience, calculation, and overwhelming force. This
lesson shapes Arvin into a morally complicated adult. He becomes a protector of
the weak, yet he also inherits his father’s belief that violence is sometimes
the only effective response to evil. In this way, The Devil All the Time
presents generational trauma as a kind of curse: Willard tries to prepare his
son to survive a cruel world, but in doing so, he passes his own darkness on to
him. The tragedy—and irony—is that Arvin uses his father’s violent teachings to
fight genuine predators and corruption, making him neither a simple hero nor a
villain, but another damaged soul struggling to escape a cycle that began long
before him.
(Narration
of the film): “He came every morning and evening to talk to God. It seemed to
his son that his father fought the Devil all the time.”
ð
As
the narration reveals, to young Arvin, his father appears to be engaged in an
endless private war—a war in which God offers no visible comfort and the Devil
seems to be everywhere. Willard’s devotion is not presented as peaceful or
spiritually uplifting at all. His prayers are compulsive, desperate, and
increasingly consumed by fear. Haunted by the horrors he witnessed during World
War II, he brings his trauma to the cross and attempts to transform prayer into
a weapon against death itself. When Charlotte (i.e., Willard’s wife) becomes
ill with cancer, Willard does not simply ask God for help; he seems to demand a
miracle, bargaining with heaven through ritual and sacrifice. His faith becomes
less an act of trust than a desperate struggle to control a universe that has
already shown him unimaginable cruelty.
Arvin does not necessarily understand theology, but he understands suffering. To him, his father's constant kneeling, praying, drinking, and emotional torment look like combat. The Devil may be invisible, yet the damage caused by this spiritual battle is painfully real. Willard's religion does not shield his son from fear; it rather teaches him that the world is a place where evil is always lurking and must constantly be fought.
** Jean’s Small Thoughts:
This film left
me feeling as though we are all walking on eggshells in today’s world, where
the line between good and evil has become increasingly blurred. One question
kept haunting me during and after the film: How can we tell someone who
genuinely acts in good faith from someone who hides wicked and abusive
intentions behind a respectable appearance. In many parts of the world, we
continue to witness how predators can twist religion, language, and authority
into instruments of manipulation—and how easily a trusted spiritual leader can
conceal evil behind the appearance of righteousness.
The characters of the story are repeatedly pulled into the past, digging deeper into crimes and secrets they might have been better off leaving buried. But once the truth begins to surface, there is no turning back. Their search unleashes a bloody chain of events in which obsession, guilt, and violence draw them toward an almost unavoidable fate. What makes the film particularly disturbing is its portrayal of trauma disguised as conviction. Willard believes he is fighting evil, but he is also fighting his memories, grief, helplessness, and his inability to accept that prayer cannot always prevent tragedy. His war with the Devil is ultimately a war with himself—and tragically, his son Arvin inherits that battlefield.
After I watched this movie, I came to think about the different philosophies of Martin Luther King Jr. and Malcolm X. If you were forced to choose between the two approaches, which would you support? Do you believe in MLK’s conviction that “darkness cannot drive out darkness” and that only light can overcome it? Or do you find some truth in Malcolm X’s willingness to pursue justice “by any means necessary”? Personally, I do not believe violence can truly solve our problems. At the same time, I question whether quietly and innocently standing aside can ever uproot the evil and injustice that remain deeply embedded in society. Perhaps confronting wrongdoing firmly and holding people accountable is necessary—not through violence, but by making it clear that manipulation, abuse, and deliberate wrongdoing will have consequences.
Additionally, this film brought to mind recent concerns surrounding possible connections between some politicians and Shincheonji, a controversial Christian new religious movement founded in South Korea in 1984 by Lee Man-hee. The name means “New Heaven and New Earth,” reflecting the group's apocalyptic interpretation of biblical prophecy. Critics have accused Shincheonji of being a high-control or cult-like organization, while the movement rejects such descriptions and considers itself a legitimate Christian church. I would be cautious about making accusations without credible evidence. Allegations of improper or illegal relationships between religious organizations and politicians must be investigated and proven rather than assumed. Still, I believe this is precisely why citizens should remain alert, questioning, and vigilant when religious authority, political power, and human vulnerability intersect. Blind trust can be dangerous.
Perhaps the most unsettling tragedy in the film is that Arvin inherits his father's battlefield. Willard's religious obsession and violent worldview teach his son that goodness is fragile, evil is everywhere, and survival may require fighting back. His desperate attempt to defeat darkness does not die with him; it quietly passes into the next generation.
In that sense, The Devil All the Time suggests that faith is not always a sanctuary. Sometimes it becomes another battlefield where wounded people struggle to understand a world that refuses to explain its cruelty. And perhaps that is what troubles me most. The film does not offer an easy answer about where we should begin. It leaves us with an uncomfortable question: How do we confront evil without becoming the very thing we are fighting against? Maybe that is where real change has to begin—not with hatred or violence, but with the courage to recognize evil, question authority, protect the vulnerable, and refuse to remain silent when something is fundamentally wrong. Even if it feels confusing, I hope we are not willingly put our own heads into evil’s noose while trying to fight it.
