THE VELVET VAMPIRE

Stephanie Rothman, 1971

Starring: Celeste Yarnall, Sherry Miles, Michael Blodgett

The lovely Diane Le Fanu (a reference to Carmilla’s writer Sheridan Le Fanu) meets young married couple Lee and Susan at the Stoker gallery (get it?). Lee is attracted to Diane and accepts an invitation to vacation at her home in the desert. Though initially reluctant, Susan becomes attracted to her as well and both husband and wife share reoccurring dreams about being seduced by Diane. At night, she watches them through a two-way mirror and feasts primarily on raw meat and liver. Bodies begin to pile up and strange things occur, though Diane offers flimsier and flimsier excuses to Lee and Susan. 

The Velvet Vampire was directed and co-written by Stephanie Rothman. Rothman went on to direct The Working Girls, Student Nurses, Terminal Island, and had worked with executive producer Roger Corman and his production company New World previously to The Velvet Vampire. As with a handful of other female horror directors, much as been made of Rothman’s gender and the “feminist” perspective within the film. Though the main character is an independent woman who preys upon a series of mostly useless and unintelligent men, I think this reading is mostly imposed on the film due to the gender of its director.

Erotic, dreamlike, and more steeped in hippyish mysticism than supernatural horror, The Velvet Vampire has nearly as many successes as it does failures. There’s some lovely cinematography from Daniel Lacambre of the Joshua Tree, California location, a subdued, fitting score, and enjoyable dream sequences. It also has a lagging, barely sketched out plot, terrible acting, laughable dialogue, and plenty of events that make absolutely no sense. Susan and Lee are grating, deplorably stupid characters and I spent much of their screen time hoping one or both would be rapidly and violently dispatched by Diane. Alas. 

Though Diane is obviously the titular velvet vampire, the film is unclear about the rules of vampirism. She eats raw meat and galavants around in the sun, though she occasionally has an insane desire for blood and at the conclusion of the film it is the sun, reflected off of a cross, that kills her. The sexual elements are sometimes on the level of softcore porn, but are mostly vague and laughable. There’s a particularly hilarious and/or painful scene where Diane, Lee, and Susan sit down to dinner and Lee and Diane flirt openly. They have a graphic conversation about driving a dune buggy “up and down, in and out... through the sand dunes.”

Lee and Susan have a reoccurring, shared dream where their bed is transported to the middle of a desert wasteland and Diane appears through a full-length mirror. These sequences are oddly similar to scenes from the terrifying art-house porn film Through the Looking Glass (1976). Even more oddly, The Velvet Vampire’s alternate title is Through the Looking Glass. I’d be interested to know if the director of the latter film, Jonas Middleton, had seen The Velvet Vampire before making his own, thoroughly disturbing and superior movie.

Inspired by the success of superior Belgian film Daughters of Darkness (1970), this U.S.-Philippine co-production was a commercial failure, probably because it attempted to blend erotica, art house, and horror, something that worked a lot better in Europe than in the U.S. Roger Corman released it as a double feature with Scream of the Demon Lover and it was barely seen for a decades until it developed a small reputation as a cult film. 

Though there are a number of boring, long scenes, some truly wacky things happen. They go on a dune buggy ride through the desert, Diane spies on the couple through a double sided mirror, and stays up late eating raw chicken liver. There’s something weird going on with her dead and supposedly mummified husband and for some reason that I feel like they must have explained, but I could never figure out, a Native American, Juan, has abandoned his tribe to serve Diane. Anything suspicious or questionable that Diane does is laughably explained away with the flimsiest of excuses, which Lee and Susan are quick to believe. 

Celeste Yarnell (Fatal Beauty) is clearly the driving force behind the film and the atrocious acting from the rest of the cast makes her seem far more charismatic than she probably was. Sherry Miles is just grating to watch as Susan and Michael Blodgett (Beyond the Valley of the Dolls) is almost equally as bad. Gene Shane (Werewolves on Wheels) has a small role as a creepy art dealer and plays a part in the silly twist ending.

The film looks decent despite some silly ‘70s fashion and style. The desert setting goes a long way and I suspect this is one of the first vampire flicks to use that setting after, of course, Billy the Kid vs. Dracula (1966). I’m a little fascinated by the horror-western hybrid, which is probably why I had such high hopes for The Velvet Vampire. It wasn’t terrible, but it failed to meet my expectations. Nonetheless, it is an interesting entry in ‘70s horror and is one of the few American films to address the lesbian vampire, something running rampant in Europe during the period. 

Also known as Cemetery Girls and Waking Hours, The Velvet Vampire is available on single disc DVD or as part of Shout Factory’s two-disc Roger Corman collection, Vampires, Mummies & Monsters. Also included is the superior Lady Frankenstein (1971), Time Walker (1982), and Grotesque (1988). The Velvet Vampire comes with a nice commentary track from Celeste Yarnail. 

VAMPYRES (1974)

José Ramón Larraz, 1974

Starring: Anulka, Marianne Morris, Murray Brown

John and Harriet are vacationing in an RV in the English countryside. Harriet believes she sees two beautiful women hidden in the forest by the road side. Though John doesn’t believe her, the women are revealed to be Fran and Miriam, two vampires who prey on motorists by hitching rides and inviting the unsuspecting men in for drinks and sex. They dispose of the bodies by staging car crashes, but Fran keeps bringing her latest victim, Ted, back for more. As John and Harriet are vacationing so near the castle Fran and Miriam live in, their paths are bound to cross...

Recently deceased Spanish director José Ramón Larraz shot many of his films in England, including his best known effort, the dark, lyrical, and erotic Vampyres. Though most of Larraz’s horror or mystery films are still very obscure and nearly impossible to get ahold of, Vampyres has maintained a cult following over the years thanks to its compelling blend of horror, mystery, and erotica. 

In a way, Vampyres works as well as a mystery as it does an erotic horror film. Larraz introduces a number of questions early on, some of which he answers and others he neglects, though I think the latter adds to film’s dreamlike, surreal quality. As a horror film, there are a few genuine scares and surprising, sudden moments of violence. The horror elements are primarily suggested rather than overtly depicted. Larraz slowly reveals that Fran and Miriam are vampires, building tension and anxiety at a near agonizing pace as we realize what Fran and Miriam are up to and the lengths they are willing to go. The film becomes quite bloody in parts, off setting the lengthy, softcore scenes of eroticism that take up much of the first act. 

The photography, sets, and scenery are one of the many reasons to see Vampyres. The film is largely made up of beautiful shots of Morris and Anulka. They run through the woods at dawn, kiss each other with blood covering their lips and faces, appear as if dead while sleeping, and stare longingly at one another. 

Vampyres has a lovely, Hammer-like setting and the lush countryside and forest, as well as the crumbling castle, add to the Gothic feel of the film. The actual sets are Oakley Court and Denham cemetery, areas regularly used by Hammer. The director of photography, Harry Waxman, was fresh off The Wicker Man, though overall I think this feels far more like a European horror film than a British one. The emphasis on surrealism and erotica are more like the films of Jean Rollin or Jess Franco than Hammer horror. As with Jean Rollin, Larraz’s vampires stick to some folklore conventions - they need to drink blood and be underground during the day - but neither Fran nor Miriam have fangs and must rely on knives to spill blood. Clocks near them stop and they take care to cover mirrors. The supernatural elements are thin at best, but definitely add to the general atmosphere.

The vacationing couple, John and Harriet, add another story to the mix and Harriet’s connection with Fran and Miriam is one of the film’s many mysteries. On the surface level, John and Harriet are a little annoying, but Harriet’s insatiable curiosity and her desire to find out who Fran and Miriam are and what they’re up to drives their plot forward. Fran and Harriet seem to have some sort of spiritual - or possibly sexual - connection, but Larraz never reveals what this is, possibly setting the film up for a sequel. 

The voluptuous Marianne Morris stars as Fran and British-Polish model Anulka (Lisztomania, Playmate of the Month) co-stars as her girlfriend and partner in crime, Miriam. Though the two women are clearly not experienced actresses, they are thoroughly sexy here and don’t have much to do other than look beautiful, have sex, and cover themselves in blood. Murray Brown (the 1974 version of Bram Stoker’s Dracula) appears as Fran’s ongoing victim Ted. Brian Deacon (A Zed and Two Noughts) and Sally Faulkner (Doctor Who, Alien Prey) are decent as the unaware vacationing couple. 

Vampyres has a few flaws, such as some unintentionally comedic moments and a number of plot holes. The most glaring plot issue is probably that Fran and Miriam’s continuing plan to hitchhike rides to their home and then feast upon the drivers is predictable and - at least in a more rational film - likely to attract attention from the police. The slow pacing will not please everyone, though seasoned fans of Eurohorror will not even notice this. 

Vampyres comes recommended and is now on Blu-ray courtesy of Blue Underground. A number of special features are included. Larraz sadly passed away in September of 2013, but hopefully this means that more of his films will see the light of day on DVD and Blu-ray. To learn more about him, read Pete Tombs’ touching remembrance or, if you can find it, Tombs’ book about Eurotrash and Eurohorror, Immoral Tales.

LEMORA: A CHILD'S TALE OF THE SUPERNATURAL

Richard Blackburn, 1975

Starring: Cheryl Smith, Hy Pyke, Lesley Gilb, Richard Blackburn

After her father goes on the run, 13 year old Lila Lee receives a letter that he is injured and she should follow him to an odd, small town in the swamp known as Astaroth. She runs away from the church where a Reverend has been raising her and boards a bus to begin a very strange journey. On the outskirts of Astaroth, she is attacked by bestial vampire creatures, but a woman named Lemora saves her and takes her home. Soon Lila learns that Lemora is imprisoning Lila’s father and is responsible for summoning Lila to Astaroth. Lemora is a vampire and hopes to feed on Lila, as she has done with other children. Lila tries to escape and learn about Astaroth on the way. Meanwhile, the Reverend is searching for her. 

Lemora: A Child’s Tale of the Supernatural aka Lemora: The Lady Dracula aka The Legendary Curse of Lemora is an independent production from Richard Blackburn. Director, writer, and producer, Blackburn also appeared as the Reverend. He would later go on to co- write Eating Raoul. With Lemora, he was clearly inspired by H.P. Lovecraft and Arthur Machen, but like Messiah of Evil, Lemora is a unique blend of themes and influences. A mix of Lovecraftian mythos, fairytales, vampires, and a surreal coming of age story, numerous fairytale elements are blended into the overall horror plot of Lemora particularly well and the unique, small town 1920s setting also adds to its appeal and inventiveness. While it is somewhat similar to films like Valerie and Her Week of Wonders or Night of the Hunter, it remains one of the most interesting, if little seen cult films of the ‘70s.

There’s no doubt that Lemora is low budget, there are numerous plot holes, and parts of the film seem silly or thrown together, though this doesn’t detract from its overwhelming charm and magic. It’s surprisingly well cast and Cheryl “Rainbeaux” Smith (The Swinging Cheerleaders, Caged Heat) is captivating and carries the film as the innocent, dreamy-eyed Lila. Lesley Gilb has some lousy dialogue, but is memorable as the titular Lemora. Hy Pyke (Blade Runner) appears as the weirdo bus driver and Blackburn cast a mixture of interesting extras as the monstrous townsfolk. 

Though there is no explicit sexual activity, Lila is surrounded by a thickening haze of sexual menace. Male and female characters leer at her, eventually even the Reverend, who is one of the only positive adult characters. There’s also a Southern Gothic feeling with the overripe, decaying swampland, half-monster, half-human inhabitants, and Lovecraftian inbreeding and degeneration. The interesting effects from Byrd Holland decline a bit as the film goes on and exposes more and more monsters, but the combination of traditional vampires with ghouls is a nice touch. Keep in mind that the film is rated PG, so most of the horror and sexual elements are suggested, rather than shown. The score from Dan Neufeld and creepy sound effects also add to the overall effectiveness.

Due to poor advertising and distribution upon its release, as well as complaints from the Catholic Church, Lemora was largely ignored, but developed a cult following over the years thanks to a television run. My only major complaint is that I suspect something happened during the editing of the conclusion, as things jump around and don’t make a whole lot of sense. This sort of works and continues the nightmarish, surreal quality of the film. 

Lemora comes with a very high recommendation and is available on DVD from Synapse, which includes plenty of special features. If you want to learn more about star Cheryl Smith, who had a brief, but interesting career in exploitation cinema, here’s a great eulogy on her tribute site. 

THE RETURN OF COUNT YORGA

Bob Kelljan, 1971

Starring: Robert Quarry, Roger Perry, Mariette Hartley, Yvonne Wilder

Count Yorga inexplicably returns in this follow up to Count Yorga, Vampire and falls for Cynthia, a young woman who teaches at a nearby orphanage. One of her charges, Tommy, finds his way to the local cemetery and becomes Yorga’s minion, though his original servant, Brudah, has also returned. Yorga recreates his harem of undead brides, but they don’t come back quite right and seem more like zombies than vampires. Yorga and the brides leave the cemetery and move into a mansion next to the orphanage, hoping to use the children as prey. 

Still obsessed with Cynthia, Yorga has the brides kill her entire family, though she believes they died in a car crash. He hopes that she will fall in love with him of her own accord and does not want to turn her into a vampire. Meanwhile, the police become involved and Cynthia’s boyfriend is suspicious about her disappearance. He soon believes that a vampire is responsible and seeks out a local Reverend and the police officers to help him get to the bottom of things. 

While I found Return of Count Yorga nearly as enjoyable as the first film, there are definitely some flaws, namely its refusal to make a lot of sense and the numerous plot holes. Yorga’s return isn’t really explained - he was turned to dust at the end of the first film - though there’s some loose suggestion that the evil Santa Anna winds have revived him and his servant Brudah, though Brudah is human. Yorga’s obsession with Cynthia seems arbitrary and his decision to kill her family with the hope that she will fall in love with him is simply ridiculous. Why do the vampire brides look and act more like ghouls or zombies? Why is there a voodoo priestess in Yorga’s basement? And so on. 

On occasion the plot drags and the writers could have waited a bit longer before introducing Yorga and making his intentions known. There is the inclusion of some very odd and out of place comedy through the two police officer characters, which reminded me of Universal’s unfortunate reliance on this in their horror films of the late ‘30s and ‘40s. One successfully humorous scene involves Yorga watching Hammer horror film The Vampire Lovers on TV, so there are a few moments where it does work. 

Despite these issues, it is far bleaker and more nihilistic than the first film. By the conclusion nearly everyone dies and the attack sequences are much more violent. The film benefits from a larger budget and the sense of Gothic gloom is more pronounced than in the first film, thanks to some lovely set pieces. Count Yorga, Vampire’s director Bob Kelljan returned to direct and co-wrote the film with actress Yvonne Wilder, who I believe was his wife at the time. 

Robert Quarry is again very compelling as Yorga and carries the film. There’s a decent performance from Mariette Hartley (Mystery in Dracula’s Castle) as Cynthia. Roger Perry returns from Count Yorga, Vampire in a different, though similar role. Karen Ericson (Night of the Demons), Craig T. Nelson (Poltergeist), and Yvonne Wilder (co-writer of the film) are also enjoyable. The Return of Count Yorga was supposed to be followed by a third film that allegedly involved the Count living in the sewers, turning the homeless into an army of the undead. Instead, Quarry starred in another, unrelated vampire film, The Deathmaster. 

Also known as The Curse of Count Yorga or The Abominable Count Yorga, Return of Count Yorga can be found on DVD from MGM’s Midnite Movies series alongside Count Yorga, Vampire, though sadly this has fallen out of print and used copies have become rather expensive. Hopefully they will be released on Blu-ray sometime soon.

COUNT YORGA, VAMPIRE

Bob Kelljan, 1970

Starring: Robert Quarry, Roger Perry, Michael Murphy, Donna Anders

A mysterious coffin is shipped to a foreboding California mansion. Meanwhile, a young woman named Donna holds a séance to attempt to contact her dead mother. The strange Count Yorga, recently arrived in California from Bulgaria, performs the ceremony and later uses hypnosis on Donna when she has a hysterical breakdown. Two of Donna’s friends, Erica and Paul, drive the Count home and are forced to sleep in their van after the roads become bad. That night they are attacked by Yorga, but strangely don't remember. 

Erica has some odd marks on her neck investigated and goes through some strange personality changes. Her doctor, Hayes, notices inexplicable blood loss and later, she attempt to eat her pet kitten. Paul contact Dr. Hayes out of desperation. Meanwhile, it is revealed that Yorga has a number of vampire brides at his disposal, including Donna’s dearly departed mother. Though reluctant at first, the three men -- Hayes, Paul, and Donna's boyfriend -- suspect vampirism and all available clues lead them right to Yorga’s mansion, where he is hoping to add some new brides to his collection. 

Initially, Robert Quarry’s Count Yorga was intended to face off against Vincent Price’s character Dr. Phibes. Later, Quarry wound up as a foil to Price in both Dr. Phibes Rises Again and Madhouse, though as new, human characters instead of the aristocratic count. Quarry was actually intended to replace Price as American International Pictures’ primary horror star, but unfortunately horror became less popular and Quarry never really rose to stardom. He did return as a second vampire character in The Deathmaster, a film he also produced, which was intended to be a loose vampire version of the Manson family.

In addition to Quarry’s delightfully campy performance, there are some average appearances from Roger Perry (The Thing with Two Heads), Michael Murphy (MASH, Manhattan, Batman Returns), and Michael Macready (Terror House, no relation to Kurt Russell’s MacReady in The Thing). Donna Anders (Werewolves on Wheels, Dream No Evil) is likable as the lead and there are some lovely ladies throughout.

Speaking of ladies, Count Yorga was initially intended to be a softcore film. Allegedly it was Quarry who convinced AIP to make it a straightforward horror flick, but sexual elements remain and certainly far outweigh any overt gore or violence. As a result, American International Pictures had some trouble acquiring a PG rating to release the film theatrically. 

Count Yorga was one of the few British or American vampire films of the ‘70s to focus on vampires in a modern setting and it is essentially an updated rehashing of Dracula, tracing many of the same plot points. Quarry helps the film to stand out as more than just another Dracula clone, however, and Yorga’s snobbery, sarcasm, and wit help the film to feel fresh after all these years. As with Dracula, the works of Jean Rollin, Jess Franco, and Hammer’s many vampire films, there is a direct relationship between vampirism and perverse sexuality. In one memorable scene, Yorga hypnotically compels some of his vampire brides to have sex with one another. And as with the later 1979 Dracula and the somewhat unfortunate Bram Stoker’s Dracula, Yorga is just as interested in finding a romantic connection as he is a sanguinary one.

Director Bob Kelljan also helmed Return of Count Yorga, and the Blacula sequel, Scream, Blacula, Scream. He does a decent, if average job with Yorga, which should appeal to fans of ‘60s and ‘70s vampire films, namely the latter efforts of Hammer and their increasingly ridiculous (though enjoyable) Dracula films with Christopher Lee. While I adore Count Yorga, it is far from perfect and suffers from a distinct lag in plot and lots of dialogue-heavy scenes. The characters accept vampirism a little too readily and the conclusion happens far too quickly. The twist ending may be a little predictable for modern viewers, but it’s still enjoyable.

Count Yorga’s success insured a sequel, the lesser Return of Count Yorga. These are available on a double feature DVD from MGM’s Midnite Movies label, but unfortunately it is out of print and has become relatively expensive. Hopefully someone will rescue Count Yorga and finally release it -- and its sequel -- on Blu-ray with some nice special features. 

THE MANITOU

William Girdler, 1978

Starring: Tony Curtis, Susan Strasberg, Stella Stevens, Burgess Meredith

“My god, son, you do have one hell of a problem.”

Karen contacts her ex-boyfriend, Harry, because she is concerned about an impending surgery. Karen has a strange growth on her shoulder that is confounding her doctors and she turns to Harry for help. Though Harry is a con artist, tricking old women out of their money with Tarot card readings, Karen trusts his spiritual advice. A number of strange things begin to happen and Karen’s surgery goes wrong, resulting in one of her doctors cutting himself. The medical team becomes convinced that she has a fetus growing in her shoulder. A concerned Harry seeks help, first from a seance specialist, then an anthropologist specializing in Native American lore. He slowly learns that the lump in Karen’s shoulder is an evil medicine man attempting to reincarnate himself and unleash an ancient evil. Can Harry save Karen in time? 

Based on a novel of the same name by Graham Masterton, William Girdler’s final film ranks among some of his most enjoyable and includes the same, so bad it’s good, anything goes logic. As with all of Girdler’s films, he directed this with a totally straight face and convinced his cast to do the same. With lines like “We pumped him with enough X-ray to see through Fort Knox... We’ve created a monster,” I can’t stress enough that The Manitou is absolutely delightful. There are laser beams running amok in the hospital, an ancient medicine man growing in the shoulder/neck of a woman, some blatant racism, a seance where the oil-covered head of said medicine man emerges from the table, as well as elements of The Exorcist, ‘70s sci-fi, and even Doctor Who. 

This Canadian-U.S. coproduction is Girdler’s highest budget film at $3 million and looks very professional, arguably more so than his earlier films. Though the middle of the film is rather dull, there is plenty to make up for this. There are some surprisingly good performances, particularly from the great Tony Curtis (Some Like it Hot, Operation Petticoat), who even wears a wizard’s robe for half the film. The equally wonderful Michael Ansara (Star Trek, The Ten Commandments) is believable and incredibly straight faced as Native American medicine man John Singing Rock. Susan Strasberg (The Trip) is likable as the infected/impregnated Karen, though she is missing for much of the film. The great Burgess Meredith also makes a welcome appearance as an anthropologist and Native American magic specialist. His scene is one of the most delightful in the film, though it is liberally peppered with racism. 

I love most of Girdler’s films, particularly Abby, Grizzly, and Day of the Animals and it would have been interesting to see how his career would have developed after The Manitou. Unfortunately he died in a helicopter crash in the jungle while scouting locations for his next film. But with The Manitou, he really gave it his all, particularly during the absolutely insane ending that must be seen to be believed. An evil midget witchdoctor rains his magical malice down upon the hospital and a naked Susan Strasberg has to fight back with laser beams. And somehow they are in space. Yes, outer space. 

The effects are a very mixed bag - as I said, laser beams - but they are always enjoyable. There’s even a surprising amount of gore, including a man skinned alive, human explosions, and a decapitation, as well as an old lady who becomes possessed and throws herself down the stairs. And don’t forgot the head that comes out of a dining room table, which explodes shortly after due to a bolt of lightening. 

I can’t say enough good things about Girdler or his work. The Manitou may buck logic and good taste at every turn, but it is so much fun I dare you to deny it. Highly recommended, though certainly an acquired taste, The Manitou is available on DVD. And if the movie isn’t enough, novelist Graham Masteron churned out a whole series of books that include Revenge of the Manitou, Manitou Blood, and many more. 

THE SENTINEL (1977)

Michael Winner, 1977

Starring: Cristina Raines, Chris Sarandon, Martin Balsam, Burgess Meredith, Beverly D’Angelo, Ava Gardner, José Ferrer

A beautiful, but troubled model is proposed to by her lawyer boyfriend, Michael, but she decides that she needs a little space before accepting. She moves into an old, but lovely brownstone in Brooklyn. Her neighbors are very odd, including a blind priest who sits by the window, an old man who throws a birthday party for his pet cat, and two “sisters” who are actually lesbians. Alison’s father dies and some of her neurotic history begins to return, including fainting spells, nightmares, and elements of PTSD. She later learns from her real estate agent that none of the people - except for the blind priest - live in the building and she apparently hallucinated the whole thing. 

Her suicidal thoughts return as she learns that the apartment building is not what it seems and hallucinations begin to consume her life. After one particularly terrifying night, she thinks she killed her father, though he is already dead. She and Michael learn that a group of strange, excommunicated priests own the building. They believe that it is a gateway to Hell and a new guardian is needed...

Based on Jeffrey Konvitz’s novel of the same name, Konvitz and director Michael Winner co-wrote this late ‘70s occult film that will appeal to lovers of the weird and unexpected. Part of The Sentinel’s charm is that so many elements - even those that ultimately come across as unsuccessful or tasteless - are unexpected. The screenplay feels original, even though it obviously borrows from other ‘70s Satanic horror and the earlier Rosemary’s Baby. There are many scenes that are effectively creepy, including a believable and unsettling nightmare scene.

Director Michael Winner is probably best remembered for Charles Bronson revenge classic Death Wish, as well as Oliver Reed vehicle Hannibal Brooks, a prequel to The Innocents - The Nightcomers - starring Marlon Brando, etc. While the directing isn’t all that inspired and relies heavily on the zoom lens, there are some wonderful shots of New York in the ‘70s in the beginning of the film that move deeper and deeper into the increasingly claustrophobic apartment building.

Cristina Raines (The Duellists) stars as Alison and though I’ve heard some complaints that she gives a flat performance, I think she is convincing as the shallow, troubled Alison. Chris Sarandon (Princess Bride, Fright Night) seems out of place as her mustachioed lawyer boyfriend whose questionable past emerges throughout the film. He looks so dated that it’s difficult to look at him without laughing, but at least he doesn’t have to wear the kind of costumes that he would later in Fright Night. 

There are dozens of cameos from now-famous actors like Martin Balsam, John Carradine, José Ferrer, Eli Wallach, Jerry Orbach, Christopher Walken, and Tom Berenger, among others. The most memorable is probably from Beverly D’Angelo (National Lampoons Christmas Vacation), who openly masturbates in front of Alison when she visits her neighbors for the first time. The lovely Ava Gardner plays Alison’s fashionable and elegant real estate agent and Burgess Meredith is great as her incredibly creepy neighbor. He becomes the ringleader of the tenants of the disturbing brownstone and adds a layer of the truly disturbing to the proceedings.

The Sentinel is far from perfect and suffers from a number of flaws, including an occasionally dragging pace. The film’s most surprising and offensive element is the conclusion, which introduces a number of physically deformed people as habitants of Hell. In poor taste to say the least, but it adds an element of exploitation that I can’t help but enjoy. Freaks it is not, however, and none of these actors or extras are presented with the least bit of empathy or understanding. While the entire film is steeped in a shallow obsession with the physical, centered on Alison’s unhealthy fixation on her appearance, it really culminates in the twisted conclusion. 

The Sentinel is available on DVD and is definitely worth checking out, even if it is an acquired taste and has some questionable elements. Anyone who enjoys ‘70s occult horror will find plenty to enjoy and the ending is a must-see.