heyflp

8/10

When conflict drags on for too long, it stops feeling like a crisis and starts to look like routine. That quiet shift is exactly what “The Devil Is Busy” sets out to capture, observing how a space meant for care ends up operating under a constant state of alert, until no one seems to question it anymore. The short follows a single day at the Feminist Women’s Health Center in Atlanta and structures its narrative around the exhausting repetition of procedures, interruptions, and confrontations. There are no didactic introductions or long historical explanations: the camera simply watches. From the very first scenes, it’s clear this isn’t an exceptional environment, but a place where stress is part of the daily routine. The constant presence of protesters outside, the policing of the parking lot, the precautions taken to protect patients’ privacy, and the strict time limits imposed by restrictive laws turn medical care into an emotional and bureaucratic minefield. The film’s central figure is Tracy, the clinic’s head of security, whose presence completely reshapes the documentary’s perspective. An openly Christian woman, she occupies a position that dismantles any simplistic reading of the conflict: someone deeply religious who spends her days protecting women in a space attacked precisely in the name of faith. “The Devil Is Busy” finds its ethical and emotional core in her, not because she offers answers, but because she embodies contradiction. Her work is physical, psychological, and spiritual, and the film makes a point of showing both her professional efficiency and the exhaustion that sets in by the end of the day. Geeta Gandbhir and Christalyn Hampton’s direction relies on a strict observational approach, avoiding formal interviews or external commentary. Dialogue emerges organically, in the middle of work, short breaks, and restrained moments of venting. This choice is crucial in keeping the film from turning into a manifesto. Abortion is an unavoidable topic, but never the sole focus: what’s really at stake is women’s health as a whole, even as public debate insists on reducing it to a single procedure. When a nurse expresses her hope that one day women’s health won’t be defined solely by abortion, the documentary reaches one of its most revealing moments, not as a slogan, but as accumulated fatigue. One of the film’s greatest strengths is its refusal to soften the medical experience or turn it into an abstract gesture. “The Devil Is Busy” shows the clinic’s efforts to treat patients with care and respect, from attention to identity and language to attempts at preserving privacy, while also acknowledging the discomfort of the procedure itself, with loud machines and an environment far removed from any kind of idealization. That honesty prevents both romanticization and demonization, reinforcing the complexity of what patients actually experience. The protesters, always present, function less as characters and more as constant noise, an aggressive soundtrack of judgment and condemnation. The way Tracy talks about some of them, especially the hypocrisy of those who preach selective redemption, adds an unsettling layer to the film. This isn’t just ideological disagreement, but an ongoing exercise of moral power, where certain bodies are deemed worthy of forgiveness while others are pushed into symbolic damnation without ever being heard. In the end, “The Devil Is Busy” is most striking because of its restraint. It doesn’t try to persuade, organize arguments, or offer neat conclusions. By simply observing a system in motion, the documentary exposes a country frozen by moral, legal, and religious contradictions. Its impact doesn’t come from shock, but from the quiet realization that this routine (absurd, cruel, and exhausting) has already been normalized. And it’s in that normalization that the film becomes truly disturbing, suggesting that as long as women’s health is treated as an ideological battlefield, no one walks away unscathed.