Welcome to the uncanny valley of greatness, where immediate proximity to transcendence is a bug and not a feature. It’s a place that shouldn’t exist, an excuse for the pandering, boilerplate offerings that clog up theater screens to proliferate while genuine ambition is chided for narrowly missing the mark. As an intellectual exercise, it’s easily refutable, but some reactions are innate, and not to be swayed by higher functions. Our rational brain knows that Late Night with the Devil is one of the better horror movies of the last several years. Our subconscious is less forgiving, reflexively offended by how close it is to becoming a classic, coming up just short in a manner that proves unignorable.

The fault certainly doesn’t lie with the elevator pitch, an ingenious idea and structure that, in execution, provides both the film’s greatest feature and ultimate downfall. Presented as a scandalous recording of a 1970’s talk show gone awry, Devil opens with a brisk faux-documentary about the fictitious late night program Night Owls and its host, Jack Delroy (David Dastmalchian). Through voiceover and montage, we learn of a quick rise and a tragic fall, all laying the scene for the following unearthed footage of a Halloween broadcast that’s since become the stuff of legend. As a ten minute on-ramp of curiosity and enticement, you couldn’t ask for much more.

It’s no sooner than the pieces have been put into place and the rules established that Late Night starts moving the goalposts, though at first it’s almost imperceptible. The period detail, from costume design to set dressing to the oppressive deluge of orange and brown, convincingly signals our time and place, all shot with a vague haziness that approximates antiquated technology. For a movie that opens with enough studio title cards to border on parody, it’s clear that the shoe-string production is making the most of limited means, creating a hard won illusion that’s bolstered by a handful of expertly calibrated performances.

Dastmalchian is a ‘that guy’ of the highest order, his twitchy, unplaceable malice on display in minor parts across the worlds of Christopher Nolan and Denis Villanueve. His particular talents aren’t well-suited to many leading roles, but Devil provides a showcase for his unconventional appeal, vacillating between everyman relatability and repressed aggression, sometimes within the same shot. Ingrid Torelli’s role as a 2024 Linda Blair is much less tricky but even more delicious, complete with squirm-inducing stares and sinisterly innocent affectation. Her hollow gazes directly into the camera make perfect use of the film’s format, tilting the preconceived arrangement between the viewer and the viewed in her favor. If only directors Cameron and Colin Cairnes had followed her lead.

The implicit boundaries of the found footage genre are more rigid for some than others, and there’s a chance that audiences won’t actively notice how casually Devil treats them, but that’s where those intrinsic impulses come in. Rather than sitting in and staring at the terror as it unfolds, the movie’s editing quickens, and its camera starts to move, almost forgetting its juicy conceit in real time. These decisions wouldn’t be damning if the visual language of late night shows wasn’t so deeply imbedded, relying on an entrenched formula as a means of signaling safety. By misplacing those guard rails, Devil alerts us to danger, giving away its hard won upper hand in the process. It also uses imitation commercial breaks to give us a behind-the-scene look at the goings-on, bonus stock that’s alluded to in the aforementioned documentary lead in. This time would have been better spent on mock advertisements that allowed the audience a chance to wonder rather than be cued in to each and every character beat.

The film’s closing moments are an even further flight of fancy, but the gonzo montage manages to land because we’ve already given up on anything resembling fidelity to the original framework. Perhaps the Cairnes brothers knew it would be a bridge too far if they didn’t start building toward it earlier, but the passageway’s construction topples the city around it. What’s left is a movie that looks great, feels great, and is stacked with great performances. It’s also just not the real thing, and the more it stresses its own integrity, the more weary we become.