Dark Eyes Retrovision #20 - Eye of the Devil (UK 1967: Dir J. Lee Thompson)

Phillippe de Montfaucon (David Niven), a wealthy French vineyard owner, is called home because his wine crop has been threatened by drought. Against his wishes his wife Catherine (Deborah Kerr) and children Jacques (Robert Duncan) and Antoinette (Suky Appleby) join him. Back in Bellenac, the country home of the de Montfaucons, Catherine becomes concerned at the behaviour of the son and daughter of another of the area's rich and well established families, the de Carays, in the shape of the beguiling Odile (Sharon Tate) and her brother, the strange Christian (David Hemmings). Little by little Catherine understands what is needed to restore the vines to production, and the likely cost to the de Montfaucon family.

Eye of the Devil was based on a 1964 book of murder and the occult, 'Day of the Arrow' by Robin Estridge (which was popularly reckoned to have been inspired by Sir James George Frazer's 1890 study of esoteric religions, 'The Golden Bough').  Estridge was also involved with co-scripting the film along with the little known Dennis Murphy and also an uncredited Terry Southern, writer of Dr Strangelove (1964) and Barbarella (1967). The latter was drafted in to modernise the feel of the script (he was probably asked to make it more 'with it'), maybe in response to the casting of David Hemmings and Sharon Tate. Hemmings was about to land the role of Thomas in Antonioni's Blow-up (1966) which would cement his position as one of the leading faces in the 1960s London based pop culture movement. And Tate, the model and poster girl who was at the time very much a 'now' face, would be starring in her first feature, having been signed to producer Martin Ransohoff's Filmways company - who bankrolled this movie - back in 1963. 

Kim Novak was originally signed to play the part of Catherine. Unfortunately two weeks into shooting she injured her back in a riding accident. After some deliberation about Novak's recovery the actress, who can still be seen in long shots in some scenes, was replaced with Deborah Kerr, whose previous genre credit had been as Miss Giddens in Jack Clayton's 1961 movie The Innocents. Kerr being ten years older that Novak slightly strains credibility that she's the mother of two young children, but she nevertheless turns in a suitably anguished performance.

Eye of the Devil's original director was Sidney J. Furie, who had signed a three-picture deal with Ransohoff. However shortly before filming was to begin, Furie, who went on to direct The Ipcress Files (1965) instead, was replaced by action movie director Michael Anderson. Anderson then fell ill and J. Lee Thompson was appointed in his place: Thompson was more used to epic filmmaking like The Guns of Navarone (1961), Cape Fear and Taras Bulba (both 1962) - so for the experienced director this was a far more modestly budgeted affair.  

The original shooting title for the film was '13' (the title appears in the credits at the end of the movie's US DVD release): apparently the initial cut was much longer, but a lot of the content was trimmed prior to its release. This makes sense as much of the film feels rather disjointed, particularly towards the end - although this adds to the disorientation felt by cast and audience. Eye of the Devil has a languid, European feel - it was shot in the Dordogne - and the black and white photography by Erwin Hiller (a talent discovered by Murnau) has many woozy touches reminiscent of Freddie Francis' work, particularly on The Innocents, and the abstraction and montage effects give the thing a narcotic feel. But the script is a little stiff, and a largely UK cast - also including Donald Pleasence, Flora Robson and John Le Mesurier - play it very slowly. Tate's first 'starring' role is a great enigmatic debut (there's a story that she met Alexandrian Wiccan High Priest and Priestess Alex and Maxine Sanders to perfect her role), but it's a shame that Hemmings has little to do but stand in the background and practise his archery skills (although he's pivotal to one of the film's final scenes).

The finale of the film, particularly as it's spelled out about half way through, seems a little laboured, and the whole thing may be rather uneven, but Eye of the Devil is a genuine curio which helped herald a rash of witchcraft movies into cinemas through the rest of the 1960s and into the next decade. 

The Incantation (USA 2018: Dir Jude S Walko)

Jude S. Walko’s debut feature, about a young American girl summoned to an ancient castle, the home of her ancestors, is best seen as a modern update of a gothic fairy tale.

Happy go lucky Lucy is sent to northern France to attend the funeral of a distant relative; when she arrives she meets the rather loquacious Vicar of Borley (Walko) and a starchy housekeeper, and gets a brusque welcome from both – stick to the lower floors, no guests, that kind of thing. The arrival of a local insurance salesman, who may know more than he’s letting on, completes the weird household.

Gradually Lucy’s happy selfie-based demeanour is knocked out of her by a deepening gloom in her new home; a strange little girl is seen in the woods, who may or may not be a ghost; and, while ignoring the house rules and exploring upstairs, she finds evidence that the castle had previously been used in ritual magic – even uncovering a book of witchcraft practices, the Sorteligia (sorry, that death metal band name's already been taken).

Pudgy Jean- Pierre, the local gravedigger, seems to be her only friend, but Lucy begins to feel more and more a prisoner; and when she loses her way home one evening, after getting drunk in a bar, she encounters a strange blind woman occupying a seemingly abandoned cottage (who in the end credits is described rather wonderfully as 'Ethereal Crone' - now that's a death metal band name if ever I heard one!), who warns Lucy of her fate. "I don't plan on dying anytime soon," Lucy reasons, but it seems that the house's occupants have other ideas.

Now this movie really shouldn’t work – apart from a couple of profanities, it’s strictly Sunday teatime stuff. The acting is rather pedestrian, and the whole thing seems terribly naïve. But therein lies its success. It’s totally out of step with most modern horror/supernatural films. It’s languid, beautifully filmed and very quaintly old fashioned. It takes quite a leap of faith to like it but like it I did – and a lot of its success is down to Sam Valentine as Lucy who does a really good job and carried the whole movie. Admittedly Dean Cain as Abel Baddon, the insurance guy (yes that Dean Cain) looks bemused throughout, but at least he got an all-expenses paid holiday to France.

Pyewacket (Canada 2017: Dir Adam MacDonald)

The Dark Eyes of London site has been a rather singular pursuit of mine for the past five years, but I'm not immune to accepting the odd guest contribution from time to time - gives me time to go and make a cup of tea. The following has been written by Richard Halfhide, who has his own site, the extremely informative and highly commendable All Slights Deserved.

The name ‘Pyewacket’ first appeared in The Discovery of Witches, a 1647 pamphlet published by Matthew Hopkins, the infamous Witchfinder General. Described as having an appearance that “no mortal could invent”, Hopkins claimed Pyewacket was among a motley assortment of colourfully-titled familiar spirits (among them ‘Vinegar Tom’ and ‘Sacke and Sugar’) that a witch in Essex summoned forth following the witch hunters’ usual methods of persuasion, thereby earning herself a trip to the gallows for her troubles. 

Fortunately, those dabbling in witchcraft today have less to fear from Puritan reprisals, but far darker consequences may still ensue, according to the latest effort by Canadian writer/director Adam MacDonald. It’s the story of Leah (Nicole Muñoz), an angst-ridden teen whose fraught relationship with her recently widowed mother (Laurie Holden) reaches breaking point after the latter decides they should relocate to a remote house out in the sticks. Determined to be rid of her antagonist, and inspired by a recent meeting with an occult author, Leah casts a spell that inadvertently summons the titular entity.

Nicole Muñoz as Leah in Pyewacket

Unsurprisingly, what follows is very much a case of ‘be careful what you wish for.’ Pyewacket’s malign influence is first teased by a series of inexplicable incidents, leading up to more sinister occurrences. Claustrophobic camerawork does an effective job of drawing us into Leah’s darkening, increasingly introspective world. Yet there’s an annoying tendency for scenes to be a little too tight, when character development and horror alike might have benefitted from being drawn out. 

As the troubled teen, Muñoz performs ably, while Holden, best known for her appearances in The Walking Dead, has the ideal face for her ambivalent role, particularly in the latter stages. Unfortunately the script really doesn’t really give them enough to delve beneath the surface of their dynamic and the dialogue is sometimes wincingly clunky, making it difficult to feel much sympathy for either.  

There is, however, a foreboding atmosphere to the cinematography and Pyewacket’s first appearance, a shadowy presence in the corner of a room, is well executed. While it’s been bracketed with the new wave of Canadian cinema, the tone (visually and figuratively) put me more in mind of US indie psycho-thriller Super Dark Times. But whereas that film had the confidence to let the dread simmer into a toxic brew, Pyewacket seems to feel obliged to add further ingredients. One particular later scene featuring a Skype conversation is a serious misstep; a sop to a commercial formula that does the story no favours when it would have been better to explore Leah’s growing sense of alienation.

Ultimately, it comes across oddly like a torn-from-the-headlines TV movie, as though the story had been inspired by an actual incident, albeit with some added sensationalism. This may have been the intention, but it feels like a clumsy compromise of plot over substance. As an exploration of the relationship between a mother and daughter, Pyewacket is clearly geared towards a very different audience than Greta Gerwig’s whimsical Lady Bird, but that doesn’t mean richer characterisation is off limits.

The Love Witch (USA 2016: Dir - and just about bloody everything else - Anna Biller)

Elaine is the titular 'Love Witch' in Anna Biller's visually captivating but rather vacuous follow up to her 2007 send up of the 1970s sexual revolution, Viva.

Feeling the need to make a new start, our Wiccan heroine has just left San Francisco following the death of her latest significant other, and arrived in California, where her friend and fellow coven member Barbara has a house. No sooner is Elaine settled into her new lodgings than she's up to her old tricks, enchanting and seducing the town's menfolk from under their girlfriends' noses in a quest to find 'the one.' For despite being a witch, Elaine is just the same as any other girl - she needs a man to make her life complete. But unlike other girls she uses magic to get her guys, often with disastrous results.

Samantha Robinson as Elaine in another understated outfit.

Like her last film, The Love Witch is a labour of, er, love for Anna Biller. She produced, wrote and directed it, provided some of the music, and even designed the soft furnishings and costumes. The resulting film creates a strange, unreal and timeless small town America - it could be set anywhere between the 1960s and the present day - and the confusion is deliberate on the director's part. The movie is a visual overload of stunning sets, over the top clothes and porn film acting, with the cast shot in luminous close up on 35mm stock. This is a film that looks far better than it has the right to, largely thanks to cinematographer M. David Mullen, a talented guy with a lot of credits behind him, but nothing that suggested he had the ability to create this melding of Hitchcock's 1964 movie Marnie, Douglas Sirk movies and episodes of 1970s TV show McMillan and Wife. The opening scene, for example, is a note perfect pastiche with Elaine driving an open top car, the coast road rear projected behind her, and blood red 'movie of the week' titles appearing on screen - it's a joy to behold.

Samantha Robinson slips into something more comfortable.

Unlike Viva Biller has chosen not to star in this film, which is a blessing, as the cast here do a great job of acting badly, which takes some talent. Relative newcomer Samantha Robinson plays man stealing witch Elaine, her first starring role, and one she carries off well. She's stunningly attractive and while the intention may be to channel classic screen femme fatales (Robinson reminded Biller of Liz Taylor when casting, apparently) her smoky allure, immobile face and sideways looks strongly reminded me of Anjelica Huston's take on Morticia Addams in the Barry Sonnenfield directed Addams Family movies of the early 1990s.

The problem with The Love Witch is that beyond the look of the thing there isn't much else going on. It's a camp one joke film, although Biller insists it isn't a comedy but instead a dissection of the objectification of women and the subjugation of their needs to those of men. Well that's fine, but the subtext fails to fight its way through the layers of chiffon and lace, and the whole thing at two hours is just too long. Biller as editor, perhaps understandably, is loath to sacrifice any of her labour of love, and so some scenes, like the magickal rituals and an extended medieval whimsy, just go on and on. This lack of a sense of pace and constant parade of artifice, although beautifully done, ultimately makes The Love Witch a film to admire more than like, which is a shame because Biller is a promising director, and she certainly has a great cinematic eye. But really sometimes less is definitely more.