With their outsized personalities, attention-pleading gimmicks, and live-wire unpredictability, television talk shows have long been the subject of ruthless parody—yet rarely has their capacity for surreal, transgressive spectacle been mined for full-tilt horror.

In Late Night with the Devil, the latest film from sibling-directors Colin and Cameron Cairnes (100 Bloody Acres [2012]), a clout-chasing TV presenter (David Dastmalchian as an off-kilter Don Lane type) hosts a provocative Halloween broadcast that becomes infested by a malevolent force. Like Ghostwatch (1992), the BBC’s notorious ‘found footage’ prank, Late Night’s sinister slow burn plays like a live broadcast, with the exception of brief backstage documentary interludes.

As is increasingly typical for local independent cinema, Late Night with the Devil arrives in Australian theatres following months of overseas hype, having already grossed $9 million USD in its American theatrical run. Following a robust lineage of local filmmaker duos (spanning RackaRacka, the Spierig Brothers, James Wan, and Leigh Whannell), the Cairnes brothers are poised as the latest horror cinema breakouts. 

The film cleverly plays on the artifice of its format, layering a sly sense of humour into the broadcast’s abstracted reality. Fans of practical special effects will likely be tickled by the film’s skin-curdling prosthetics, which harken back to the plasticine worlds of 70s and 80s genre cinema. But, as some eagle-eyed viewers have noticed, its uncanny qualities also extend to the use of generative artificial intelligence in the film’s intertitles.

In recent weeks, criticism has circulated around the film’s adoption of this technology, particularly from within creative communities; image-generating AI programs like Midjourney have been accused of training models on stolen artwork, threatening the livelihoods of artists, and polluting the internet—as well as the planet. 

What does it mean that we’re now seeing AI used in independent productions, and is there a place for the controversial technology going forward? Among discussions of genre and storytelling, it’s a topic that the Cairnes brothers are willing to tackle head-on. 

Note: the following interview has been edited for length and clarity.

Jamie Tram: Late Night with the Devil follows on from a rich history of ‘found footage’ films.* What is it about the genre that appeals to both of you?

Colin Cairnes: When we came up with the idea back in the Dark Ages, we weren’t really thinking that it had to be found footage; it was just the story of a desperate man at his wit’s end who’s trying to keep his career alive. He’s trying to stay relevant—which we all can relate to in some way. So for us, the key was the story. 

The setting was important. Once we decided it was going to be a TV studio, it was a no-brainer to just shoot it like an actual episode of a late-night talk show. So in a way that frees you up: you know what your parameters are and you just go to town with those conventions. People can call it found footage, mockumentary, shockumentary, or lost media. That’s all cool with us. But for us, the primary thing was just telling a good story and [the talk show format] felt like the right way to do it.

JT: The movie has also been classified as a satire. Do you think that’s entirely accurate?

Colin Cairnes: That’s a tough question.

Cameron Cairnes: I wouldn’t say it isn’t.

Colin Cairnes: Again, we didn’t set out to make a satire. I think it’s just our kind of sensibility and our taste. We don’t mind taking the piss out of characters and out of a certain milieu—that TV world where it’s all about the glamour, the celebrity, the fame, the fortune. I think it’s just our instincts to have a little dig, to critique in a fairly gentle way; we love our characters, but we also love to keep them on their toes and to question their choices. 

Maybe that comes across slightly as a satire, but if your question is like, Are we trying to make a big statement about media, television and the cynicism of that world? Not so much; it wasn’t front of mind. It was more about the characters and their wants and needs, to use a bit of [Robert] McKee jargon. But we also love good satires. Films we’ve mentioned as influences, like Network (1976) and The King of Comedy (1982) are satires, especially Network—but it’s also an excellent drama and very suspenseful; the characters feel very real.

Then there are satires that are very in-your-face, playing for the laugh, being very scathing of the subject. I think [our approach] is more on the other end; we wanted to make a horror movie, basically. But those elements are there for sure. 

JT: 70s nostalgia has really come back in a big way. What is it about this decade that you think continues to speak to audiences?

Cameron Cairnes: I don’t know, I think it’s funky backbeats [laughs]. We grew up a little bit in that decade—we’re kids of the 80s, really—but we always felt pretty connected to that period. We loved its music, its movies, and its aesthetic. That colour palette, the browns and beiges, just really appealed to us and I don’t think we’ve seen that sort of look in a horror film in a while. So it was fun to play with all those different tones. Everything looks so polished now; everything has a sheen and everything’s so beautifully lit. I think there’s a roughness to how things looked and sounded in that analogue world. 

Colin Cairnes: You know what it is? Everyone was just a little bit drunk or stoned. There’s that saying: ‘If you remember the 70s, you weren’t there’ [laughs]. There was just this warm, fuzzy feel to that decade where you didn’t hold back; you went all the way. The talk shows were like that; you could bring up personal shit with John Lennon and Yoko Ono and they would talk about it freely. Things weren’t managed and prescribed. And I think that makes for really cool TV. 

The music of that era was such a big deal for us, and it was a real buzz for us to be able to bring that in with one of Melbourne’s best composers/arrangers/jazzers, Roscoe [James] Irwin, who composed all those wonderful walk-on themes. It was a real buzz to be able to evoke the world sonically as well as visually.

JT: You’ve previously mentioned how the film’s opening was influenced by the infamous Mondo documentary, The Killing of America (1981). I think to a broader extent the film plays on the horror of being exposed to real violence on your screen. Is that something you were really keen to get into in this movie?

Cameron Cairnes: It’s like Cole was saying before, I don’t think it’s something we intentionally set out to capture, it’s just part of the fabric of the film. I mean, these are things you write in your directors’ statements when you’re trying to get funding from screening agencies. Themes are important but I think it’s also just about telling a great, propulsive story. The thematic business sorts itself out in the end. 

Colin Cairnes: I think if you set out to make a film about themes, you’re kind of fucked. If you’re going to focus on what it’s about, then you’re going to lose an audience. You’ve got to make it about characters. You got to make it about their issues, their motivations, and how they’re being thwarted by someone or some other force. And then, from that, comes the themes. To be honest, that’s a problem with a lot of Australian filmmaking: people set out to make a theme, not a movie. If you’re too overt about it, the audience isn’t going to give a shit.

JT: There’s been a lot of discussion about the use of generative A.I. in the film’s intertitles. It’s a small part, but for some artists and fan communities there’s a zero tolerance policy, whether it’s a Marvel show or indie horror. How do you feel about that stance?  

Colin Cairnes: Look, I think it would be nice if people were a little more aware of context and had some perspective about what we’ve done and what we’ve been open about. We had to finish the film 12-18 months ago for SXSW. A.I. tools like Midjourney were a novelty and people were dabbling in it. We had no time, no money left, so we thought, let’s just have a play with this and see what it offers up.

To be honest, it was a pain in the arse and we wouldn’t do it again because it’s mostly really shit. But we came up with a couple of images that kind of worked and we tweaked them with our graphics team. And when I say graphics team, they’re also our producers because we’re all multitasking, because that’s independent, low-budget filmmaking. And now, 12 months later, obviously the world has changed and some people have taken umbrage and, I think, magnified our usage to a point where they’re saying it’s wall to wall. ‘It’s rife.’ ‘It’s lazy.’ ‘It’s taking work away from design people.’

I take some offence at that because when you watch the film, it’s clearly a labour of love. It’s the hard toil of a very small, but dedicated, passionate and creative team trying to bring this vision to life. If it gets this conversation started, then that’s a good thing. But people are getting onto certain platforms and exaggerating their claims in order to validate themselves and improve their own self-worth for likes. That’s another story. There are so many issues at play here; it’s been interesting to say the least.

Maybe it’s actually brought more attention to the movie. Maybe these people have helped us with the box office in the U.S., I don’t know. But look, it’s a conversation that needs to keep happening, and people need to also be aware that it’s here to stay. It’s about how we manage it. It’s a tool—a useful tool—but as far as we’re concerned, it’s not going to write our next film. We’re not going to let go of the creative control here, that’s just nonsense. 

People might be losing work out of it, but again, we did everything we could with the people and the money we had to make a good movie. To be honest, we were actually out of pocket. We’ve had to find ways to pay people ourselves to get stuff into that film, so that criticism’s kind of frustrating because we know what it’s like to be a creative and not earn a living. That’s been a lot of our lives, frankly.

I would say that there are bigger fish to fry. Look at the use of algorithms in deciding what shows get made, how they get cast, how stories are shaped. There are much, much bigger issues when it comes to artificial intelligence.

*Notably, director Joel Anderson (Lake Mungo [2008]) is an Executive Producer on the film.

Late Night with the Devil releases in Australian cinemas on April 11.

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Jamie Tram is a Naarm-based writer and filmmaker. They are a regular contributor for ABC Everyday, as well as the Small Screens Editor for The Big Issue Magazine. You can direct all your complaints to @sameytram.