I’ve featured Jim Wynorski on 31 Days of Gore before. I’ve reviewed Fred Olen Ray, too. Sorceress marks the first time I’ve reviewed a film made by both of these perverts, serving as director and producer respectively. With Linda Blair, Julie Strain, Micheal Parks, William “Blacula” Marshall, and the son of Eddie Albert (from Green Acres), Sorceress is billed as an erotic horror film. Relax, it’s the 90s!
Indeed the film opens as Strain performs a ritual in full frontal nudity, placing a curse on an attorney who’s just made partner at his firm. When Strain’s lover (Larry Poindexter) discovers she’s practicing witchcraft again, he packs his bags to leave. An argument ensues and he accidentally knocks her over the railing of the second floor balcony. When he races down to check on her, she curses him with her dying breath: “You’ll never be rid of me.” Now wherever Larry looks, he sees the ghost of Strain, in varying states of undress.
You would be forgiven for believing Strain’s ghost will become the film’s villain. You would be wrong. As soon as Wynorski runs out of footage of Strain in skimpy outfits, the haunting subplot proves entirely irrelevant and mostly forgotten. Characters bring it up from time to time, but by the time Wynorski includes a lesbian threeway (the longest scene in the movie, mind you), he’s found another villain and other actresses to obsess over.
So the target of the curse flings himself from his possessed vehicle, moments before it drives off of a highway cliff, a process which leaves the character paralyzed. What I forgot to mention, because the film plays out like an incomprehensible wet dream, is that this guy is married to Linda Blair’s character, who’s also a witch. This will come as a surprise to him even though she clearly has an entire bedroom of their house dedicated to witchcraft. Maybe he just never went in that room, but it should be noted that Blair is also hiding a fugitive (Parks) in their guest house. Believe me, this is as succinctly as I can bring you up to speed on the first seven minutes of the film. See, it front-loads all its wild soap opera information so that the screenplay can focus on more important plot points like: “And then they have sex. Dissolve to next scene.”
The suspense entirely revolves the fact that Larry’s new girlfriend is wearing a cursed necklace that controls her actions. Larry eventually learns that all he has to do is remove the necklace and the threat is gone. He chooses not to, however, because then the movie would be over. You may be wondering, “Why have a plot at all?” Because all this convoluted stuff makes the movie entertaining as hell, that’s why. Sure, I would have much preferred it if Sorceress served a satisfying bloodbath at the end, but instead Wynorski chooses to make a shower scene his finale. The subject of said scene is Kristi Ducati, star of The Bikini Carwash Company I & II, who I had a massive crush on when I was a teenager, watching late night movies with my thumb hovering over the CH. RECALL button.
Despite the fact I found myself saying “Wait, what?” several times throughout the 90-minute runtime, Wynorski and Fred Olen Ray did not make a failure. Sorceress is exactly what they were trying to make. It just so happens that what they were trying to make is Red Shoe Diaries on crack. I’m no stranger to Wynorski’s work, which introduced me to Stormy Daniels long before she had her fifteen minutes of fame in the 24-hour news cycle. So I had an idea of what I was getting myself into, but if you prefer a healthy side of horrific violence with your T&A, you’re gonna have a bad time. On the other hand, if you’re looking for a fun film to riff on with a roomful of inebriated moviegoers, look no further.
Consider the scene which has an uninterested Linda Blair massaging her husband’s shoulders as he’s inexplicably watching a porno on the living room television. He chuckles and says “Too sexy for me” before changing the channel to the local news. This is Wynorski’s idea of a traditional married couple, by the way: watching pornography in the middle of the afternoon. Perhaps that offers some insight into the director’s psyche. I’ll say this about crass ol’ Wynorski: he is one of the very few directors who can be so utterly funny with his open disdain for conventional storytelling. I can’t sit here and pretend I’m above this. It is a supremely entertaining film with unusually gorgeous women in it. The Oscars snubbed it big time.
