Rise and Shine: The Wild, Witchy World of Kenneth Anger’s Lucifer Rising
Buckle up, film fans and occult enthusiasts—today we’re diving into one of the most gloriously chaotic cinematic sagas ever: Kenneth Anger’s Lucifer Rising (finally completed in 1980, though it kicked off way back in the groovy ‘60s). This isn’t your standard blockbuster with explosions and superheroes. Oh no. This is a 29-minute psychedelic ritual invoking Egyptian gods, ancient magick, and the dawn of a new age, all wrapped in stunning visuals of volcanoes erupting, gods summoning, and a flying saucer buzzing the pyramids. Think of it as the ultimate mood board for the Age of Aquarius… with a side of rock ‘n’ roll drama!
Kenneth Anger, the underground filmmaking legend and self-proclaimed magus (he was a big Aleister Crowley fan—more on that later), envisioned Lucifer Rising as a celebration of Lucifer not as the devilish bad guy, but as the “bringer of light.” Egyptian deities like Isis and Osiris summon him to kick off a new occult era. Shot in epic locations: the Sphinx and Karnak in Egypt (Anger fibbed to officials, saying it was a harmless documentary), Stonehenge in England, and even volcanic sites in Germany.
The cast? Rock royalty and eccentrics—Marianne Faithfull as the fierce Lilith, Donald Cammell (director of Performance) as Osiris, and a cameo from Jimmy Page himself.
But here’s where it gets fun—the behind-the-scenes soap opera is better than any reality TV!
• Lucifer #1: The Jailbird Edition
Anger’s first pick for Lucifer? A young musician named Bobby Beausoleil, spotted at a wild San Francisco event (legend has it he was playing guitar and… well, getting very up close and personal with a performer). They filmed some footage, but things soured. Anger accused Beausoleil of stealing film reels (Beausoleil said nah, it was just test shots). Drama ensued—Anger even publicly “died” in a Village Voice ad! Fast-forward: Beausoleil joined the Manson Family, got convicted of murder, and ended up composing the final soundtrack… from prison! With his inmate band, the Freedom Orchestra. Talk about redemption arcs.
Soundtrack Shenanigans: Rock Gods Edition
After the Beausoleil fallout, Anger turned to Jimmy Page of Led Zeppelin (a fellow Crowley obsessive who bought Crowley’s old house!). You can check out article on Boleskin House in another article.
Page recorded a moody, atmospheric score… but delays and arguments led to a spectacular breakup—Anger cursed Page in the press, calling him a washed-up has-been. Page’s version leaked later (it’s eerie and guitar-drenched), but the official one is Bonus Chaos: A real UFO photobombed filming (they recreated it), Marianne Faithfull smuggled herbs into Egypt (yikes, death penalty territory back then), and Anger burned his old scripts in a ritual fire for the finale.
In the end, Lucifer Rising is a hypnotic fever dream: swirling colors, symbolic rituals, erupting lava symbolizing rebirth, and that iconic ending with a UFO over the pyramids. No dialogue, just pure visual magick set to Beausoleil’s haunting score. It’s influenced everyone from music videos to experimental art, and it’s a testament to Anger’s wild vision—he made actual ceremonies on screen to “make Lucifer rise.”
The Beast and the Filmmaker: Aleister Crowley’s Profound Influence on Kenneth Anger
Aleister Crowley, the infamous English occultist known as “The Great Beast 666,” cast a long shadow over 20th-century counterculture. Few felt his pull more deeply than underground filmmaker Kenneth Anger, who not only embraced Crowley’s philosophy but wove it into the fabric of his cinematic visions. Crowley’s religion, Thelema—centered on the maxim “Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law”—became a guiding force in Anger’s life and art, transforming his films into ritualistic invocations rather than mere movies.
Anger’s fascination began in his teens. Introduced to Crowley’s works through friends like filmmaker Curtis Harrington and actress Marjorie Cameron (a key Thelemite and star in Anger’s films), he devoured texts like The Book of the Law. By the 1950s, Anger had fully converted to Thelema, viewing filmmaking as a form of magick (Crowley’s preferred spelling, with a “k” to distinguish it from stage illusions). He even named his seminal series the Magick Lantern Cycle, a nod to early film projectors and Crowley’s esoteric teachings.
Crowley’s impact is unmistakable in Anger’s oeuvre:
• Inauguration of the Pleasure Dome (1954): A psychedelic ritual depicting gods and mythological figures in a dreamlike orgy of color and symbolism. Actors portray pagan deities, embodying Thelema’s Aeon of Horus—a new era of individual will and spiritual awakening prophesied by Crowley.
https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0047114/
Invocation of My Demon Brother (1969): Featuring rolling footage of Crowley himself, occult symbols, and a soundtrack by Mick Jagger, this short is a chaotic evocation of Thelemic opposites—passionate unions of light and dark.
https://archive.org/details/invocation-of-my-demon-brother-lucifer-rising-kenneth-anger
• Lucifer Rising (1980): Anger’s crowning achievement, portraying Lucifer as a light-bringer ushering in a new age. Directly inspired by Thelema’s view of Lucifer (not as evil, but as a liberator) and the Aeon of Horus, it features ancient sites, erupting volcanoes symbolizing rebirth, and Egyptian gods summoning change.
Beyond films, Anger lived Thelema. In 1955, he visited Crowley’s derelict Abbey of Thelema in Sicily, restoring erotic murals and filming rituals there. He mentored figures like Jimmy Page in Crowleyana and saw cinema as ceremonial magick—spells cast through montage, color, and symbol to awaken viewers’ true will.
Crowley’s influence turned Anger’s work into more than avant-garde experiments; they became modern grimoire, blending homoeroticism, pop culture, and ancient mysticism. As Anger once said, movies could be “mantras.” Through him, The Great Beast’s light (or shadow) continues to flicker on screens worldwide, proving Crowley’s enduring, enchanting hold on the rebellious and the visionary.
The Great Beast and the Guitar God: Aleister Crowley’s Spell on Jimmy Page
Aleister Crowley, the self-proclaimed “wickedest man in the world” and founder of Thelema, left an indelible mark on rock ‘n’ roll through one of its greatest guitarists: Jimmy Page of Led Zeppelin. Page’s fascination with Crowley wasn’t just casual—it was deep, obsessive, and woven into his life, music, and mystique. From owning Crowley’s infamous estate to etching occult symbols into albums, Page channeled The Great Beast’s energy into the thunderous riffs that defined an era.
Page’s Crowley obsession kicked into high gear in the early 1970s. In 1970, he purchased Boleskine House on the shores of Loch Ness in Scotland—Crowley’s former home from 1899 to 1913, where The Beast performed intense rituals, including the Abramelin operation to summon his Holy Guardian Angel (and allegedly left some unruly spirits behind). Page rarely lived there due to touring but restored it and ran an occult bookstore called The Equinox in London, stocking Crowley rare editions.
Musically, the influence shines through Led Zeppelin’s catalog:
• Symbols and Sigils: On the untitled fourth album (Led Zeppelin IV, 1971), each band member chose a symbol. Page’s mysterious “ZoSo” has been linked to Crowley’s writings, alchemical texts, and even a sigil from occult grimoires. It’s never been fully explained—Page loves the mystery!
Lyrics and Themes: Songs like “Stairway to Heaven” fueled backward-masking Satanism rumors (mostly debunked), but tracks reference Crowley directly. Robert Plant inscribed “Do what thou wilt” on the original vinyl of Led Zeppelin III. Page etched “Aleister Crowley” into the runoff groove of some pressings.
• Kenneth Anger Connection: As a fellow Crowley devotee, filmmaker Kenneth Anger enlisted Page to score Lucifer Rising. Page delivered a moody, droning soundtrack, though their collaboration ended in a dramatic fallout (complete with public
Page collected Crowley artifacts—manuscripts, paintings, robes—and even designed stage outfits with astrological symbols like Scorpio and Capricorn. He downplayed direct “magick” in music but admitted the occult fueled his creativity, saying Crowley represented freedom and rebellion against conformity.
Crowley’s shadow added to Zeppelin’s mythic, dangerous allure, inspiring generations of rock occultists. Through Page, Thelema’s “Do what thou wilt” became a riff-roaring mantra for rock excess and artistic liberation. The Beast would approve!
If you’re into the occult, ‘60s counterculture, or just love a good cursed production story, hunt down Lucifer Rising. It’s short, strange, and utterly spellbinding. Hail Lucifer… or at least, hail the light-bringer of weird cinema!
