The Devil Has a Name
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The Devil Has a Name

The Devil Has a Name Robert Pattinson has a way of making scene-stealing entrances, sometimes midway through a movie, The Devil Has a Name like when he showed up in “The King” wearing long orange-blond tresses and a twisted leer as the Dauphin of France, a lewdly dissipated flyweight troublemaker. He does it again in “The Devil All the Time,” a drama of sin and salvation and crime and violence and a whole lot of other heavy Christian noir stuff, set in southern rural Ohio from 1957 to 1965. Pattinson plays a preacher, and the preacher is (of course) a scoundrel, which we know from the moment we see him, since he favors powder-blue sport coats worn over open-collared shirts with ruffles, which makes it look like he’s been up all night in a high-school-prom tuxedo. With that patented Pattinsonian flop of hair, and that perpetually pale complexion, he’s like Elvis as an undead apostle.

The preacher, whose name is Preston Teagardin, specializes in fulminating sermons scorched by the fire of sin, his face contorted with righteousness. In other words: Any preacher who gets this high on high dudgeon has something to hide. In a rainstorm, seated in his white finned Chevy along with Lenora (Eliza Scanlen), a dewy and trusting parishioner, he tells her, “To show yourself as the lord made his first children is to truly show yourself to him.” That’s a fancy way of saying, “Take off your clothes.” Later, when she’s pregnant, and she asks him about all the things they’ve done in that car, he says, “You must be crazy coming into the lord’s house and talking all this trash.”