In 1976, Larry Cohen released a film that most distributors didn't know how to sell. It wasn't just a horror movie. It wasn't exactly a police procedural either. It was something weirder—a gritty, blasphemous, and deeply unsettling blend of New York City street grime and high-concept cosmic dread. People still get confused when they first see the god told me to movie poster. They expect a slasher. What they get is a theological crisis wrapped in a detective story.
The premise is deceptively simple. A series of random, senseless killings plagues New York. A sniper on a water tower. A father who murders his entire family. A cop who opens fire during a parade. When Detective Peter Nicholas, played with a haunted intensity by Tony Lo Bianco, asks these killers why they did it, they all give the same chilling response: "God told me to."
The Unsettling Vision of Larry Cohen
Larry Cohen was a maverick. He didn't work within the studio system; he worked on the streets. If you watch the parade scene in the god told me to movie, you aren't seeing a closed set with hundreds of extras. Cohen just took his cameras to the actual St. Patrick's Day Parade in Manhattan and started filming. He even got Andy Warhol to make a cameo. That's the kind of filmmaker he was. He thrived on the chaotic energy of the city.
The film operates on a level of "what if" that most modern horror avoids. It asks: What if the voice people hear isn't mental illness? What if it's something real, but definitely not "God" in the way we've been taught?
Honestly, the movie is a bit of a mess in terms of pacing. It jumps around. Some of the acting is wooden. But the ideas? They’re massive. Cohen touches on virgin births, extraterrestrial intervention, and the terrifying possibility that our creator is a bored, hermaphroditic alien entity. It’s a lot to process.
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Why It Was Renamed "Demon"
If you’ve gone looking for this film on old VHS tapes or at a cult cinema screening, you might have seen it under the title Demon. The original title, God Told Me To, was considered too controversial or perhaps too confusing for the 1970s "grindhouse" audience. New World Pictures, the distributor, panicked. They thought people would think it was a religious film.
They weren't entirely wrong. It is a religious film, just not the kind you'd see at a Sunday school. It’s a movie that looks at the Old Testament and sees a terrifying, capricious deity. When the killer on the water tower says "God told me to," he isn't being metaphorical. He's acting on a direct psychic command.
A Detective Story That Breaks All the Rules
Tony Lo Bianco’s character, Peter Nicholas, is a devout Catholic. This is crucial. He isn't just a jaded cop; he’s a man whose entire moral framework is built on the idea of a benevolent God. As he digs deeper into the mystery of the killings, his faith doesn't just slip—it gets shredded.
He discovers a figure named Bernard Phillips. Phillips is a long-haired, ethereal man who seems to be at the center of the madness. The investigation leads Peter to a shocking realization about his own past and a secret his mother took to her grave.
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The "twist" in the god told me to movie isn't like a modern M. Night Shyamalan twist. It’s more like a slow, sickening realization. It suggests that human evolution has been tampered with. It suggests that there are beings among us who possess a power so absolute that we can only interpret it as divine.
The New York Grit Factor
One of the best things about this film is how it captures 1970s New York. It’s dirty. It’s loud. It’s crowded. You can almost smell the subway exhaust. This realism grounds the high-concept sci-fi elements. When the movie shifts into its bizarre, psychedelic finale, it feels more jarring because the first hour was so rooted in the mundane reality of a police precinct.
Legacy and Influence
You can see the DNA of this film in so many later works. Without the god told me to movie, do we get the more philosophical episodes of The X-Files? Probably not. Do we get the cosmic horror of filmmakers like Panos Cosmatos or even the religious dread in Ari Aster’s work? Cohen paved the way by showing that you could combine low-budget "B-movie" aesthetics with incredibly high-level intellectual concepts.
Critics at the time didn't really know what to make of it. Some dismissed it as trash. Others, like the legendary Roger Ebert, recognized that while it was flawed, it was doing something incredibly ambitious. It’s a movie that stays with you. You find yourself thinking about that final confrontation long after the credits roll.
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The Ending That Still Divides Fans
Without spoiling the exact details for those who haven't seen it, the ending is... weird. It’s a special effects challenge that the budget couldn't quite meet. We're talking about glowing auras and physical transformations that look a bit dated today. But the emotional impact? That remains. The idea of a man coming face-to-face with his "creator" and realizing that creator is a monster is powerful stuff.
How to Watch It Today
Thankfully, the god told me to movie has been rescued from obscurity. Blue Underground did a fantastic 4K restoration that makes the New York streets look sharper than they ever did on grainy TV broadcasts. It’s also frequently available on Shudder or Criterion Channel.
If you're going to watch it, do yourself a favor: don't look up the ending. Don't look at too many stills. Just let the weirdness wash over you. It's a polarizing experience. You’ll either think it’s a misunderstood masterpiece or a total disaster. There isn't much middle ground here.
Actionable Insights for Cult Cinema Fans
If you're diving into the world of Larry Cohen and 70s weirdness, here is how to get the most out of the experience:
- Watch the Blue Underground 4K Restoration: The lighting in this movie is notoriously tricky. Older transfers are too dark to see what's happening during the climax. The 4K version fixes this.
- Double Feature it with "The Stuff": If you want to see Cohen’s more satirical side, pair this with his 1985 film about killer yogurt. It shows his range as a filmmaker who uses genre to talk about society.
- Research the "Virgin Birth" subtext: The film draws heavily on the idea of biological anomalies. Looking into the "Ancient Aliens" theories that were popular in the 1970s (like Erich von Däniken’s Chariots of the Gods) provides a lot of context for why Cohen wrote the script this way.
- Pay attention to the sound design: The use of silence and sudden bursts of city noise is intentional. It mirrors the internal state of the characters who are trying to hear—or block out—the voice of "God."
- Check out Tony Lo Bianco's other 70s work: He brings a specific kind of intensity that was perfect for this era of New York filmmaking. His performance here is what keeps the movie from drifting too far into camp territory.
The god told me to movie remains a singular piece of American cinema. It is uncomfortable, provocative, and completely unique. It challenges the viewer to look at the intersection of faith and madness, and it doesn't offer any easy answers. It’s a reminder that sometimes the most interesting stories are the ones that refuse to fit into a neat little box.