Everyone’s a sinner, baby.

What do you get when you take Spider-Man, Batman, Bucky Barnes, Pennywise, and Dudley Dursley, and drop them in the deepest part of America’s Deep South? One hell of an ensemble of course, but also by far one of the bleakest films of the year.

Teeming with corruption and brutality, the Southern backwoods of post-war Ohio and West Virginia attract a collection of sinister characters, all converging around one young man. Fighting past traumas, but devoted to protecting those he loves, Arvin Russell (Tom Holland) finds himself caught in the crossfire of others’ sins, as he battles for his life against both internal and external demons.

If you’re looking for a spot of light distraction from the dull ache of life in the year of our lord 2020, then you might want to look elsewhere. Grim and relentlessly bleak for almost every one if its 138 minutes, The Devil All the Time certainly isn’t for the faint hearted, as it serves up a huge slice of pitch-black Southern Gothic that’s sure to divide audiences.

In truth, in this day and age, this is a film that can only really be released on something as unashamedly open-minded as Netflix. Based on the novel of the same name by Donald Ray Pollock (who rather brilliantly doubles as the film’s narrator), The Devil All the Time is almost guaranteed to offend as many as it pleases, with grotesque violence and unrelenting misery at every turn, making for a truly gruelling viewing experience.

Centring on Tom Holland’s Arvin, we’re dragged backwards and forwards in time across the two small Ohio towns of Meade and Knockemstiff (an actual place), observing a litany of bloodshed, violence, and sin spanning the years between World War II and Vietnam. As one of the only characters with even a shred of innocence about him, Arvin is our anchor for what develops into a gloomy portrait of unrelenting pain.

Around him is a violent whirlwind of doomed and corrupt characters that represent the very worst of man, as they bloodily intersect with Arvin at various points in his life. Manipulators, murderers, and predatory preachers make up The Devil All the Time’s motley crew of the damned, yet, while the film’s relentlessly bleak outlook is a lot to absorb at times, it has much to offer those with enough stomach to take it on.

In painting a sun-baked picture of poverty populated by violence and desperation, director Antonio Campos has built a world and the snapshot of an era that’s hypnotically and nauseously atmospheric. It’s a world of dust and decay but one you can’t take your eyes off, with Campos’ evocative approach blending beautifully with the film’s Southern Gothic style for a tale that certainly looks the part, even in its darkest moments.

Despite the almost nostalgic air to its opening moments, it’s not long before we’re thrown head-first into the film’s dark heart, as the war time horrors witnessed by Arvin’s father, Willard, send the entire film into a tailspin of despair. These opening flashbacks to Willard’s time in the South Pacific are truly shocking, with the man’s trauma laid bare for all to see, but it’s the far-reaching echoes of these horrors that show just how deep the suffering goes.

Unsurprisingly, religion is at the film’s very core, providing its narrative backbone and the key corrupting influence of The Devil All the Time’s many characters. Whether it’s Willard’s betrayal of a young Arvin, a couple using murder as their own personal religion, or the twisted manipulations of Knockemstiff’s various preachers, the insidious potential of faith hangs like a noose around the film’s neck.

There are no major revelations in the statements it makes about religion and its potential to corrupt, yet, what The Devil All the Time does say is put forward effectively, often brutally so. Helped by Antonio Campos’ oppressive tone and Lol Crawley’s brooding cinematography, the film paints a striking, horrific picture of religion in its many destructive forms.

With seemingly so much to say and with so much story to tell, The Devil All the Time inevitably suffers from being overstuffed and underdeveloped. Pulling influence from the likes of Robert Altman and Quentin Tarantino, the film’s sprawling, interweaving narrative certainly keeps things lively, however, with so many plot strands going on, several characters fall by the wayside.

Often feeling like it’d be better suited to long-form storytelling (a mini-series would’ve been perfect), The Devil All the Time just can’t tell all the stories it wants to, leaving characters such as Sebastian Stan’s Sheriff Bodecker underdeveloped and unsatisfying.

It takes a special kind of filmmaking balance to pull off an expansive ensemble piece of this nature, but The Devil All the Time never quite has the nous or dexterity to give all its players a fair shake of the stick. As the film’s conveyer belt of wrong’uns drift in and out of the picture, it’s clear that this is only really Arvin’s story, with much of the narrative resting on Tom Holland’s young shoulders.

Still very much Peter Parker in many people’s eyes, The Devil All the Time’s brand of nihilistic doom is certainly a step outside Holland’s Marvel comfort zone, but it’s one he clearly embraces. While perhaps not the showiest performance of the bunch, Holland nevertheless throws himself into the role, embodying both Arvin’s inherent darkness, as well as his naivety and innocence.

It’s a startling display for a young lad still in the infancy of his career, yet it shows what a talent he is and just what promise he has beyond Spider-Man. It also helps that Holland is surrounded by a cast stacked with talent. Of these, Bill Skarsgård pops as a menacing paternal presence whose shadow looms large over Arvin’s life, while Eliza Scanlen shines as Arvin’s pious adopted sister, but it’s Robert Pattinson that really steals the show.

Marking himself out as the biggest devil in a film full of demons, Pattinson’s performance as the oily, manipulative, predatory Reverend Preston Teagardin crawls under your skin and stays there. It’s a powerhouse performance full of startling ickiness that really brings the film to life just as it threatens to drift away, laying any doubt that Pattinson would struggle to shake off his sparkling vampire past well and truly to rest.

Full of incredible performances, yet incredibly grim, The Devil All the Time is a relentless slog of a movie. With its sizeable cast and heavy tone, the film is a lot to take in at times, as it repeatedly bludgeons you with its bleak subject matter. However, director Antonio Campos’ evocative style and a talented ensemble, bolstered by powerful turns from Tom Holland and Robert Pattinson, make for an engrossing – if thoroughly harrowing – watch.