The Incubus (1981) Movie Review

John Hough isn't exactly known as a moviemaking genius (check out 2001's Hell's Gate), but maybe some will take his dazzling prolificness as a substitute for quality. One of his most maligned films, 1981's The Incubus, has John Cassavetes as a New England doctor who finds himself performing one autopsy after another on the slaughtered young girls of the town.

Is the doctor's boyfriend -- who's experience sadistic nightmares -- the culprit? Or is it an otherworldly beast called the incubus?

Playing with vicious rape/murder fantasies and delving into necrophilia and incest, this is hardly Scream-class fun for the whole family. Then again, it might not be much fun for anyone; even horror aficionados will have a hard time wading through the underscored, underedited, and underacted scenes, despite the usually-engaging presence of Cassavetes. This movie really drags, a derivative medical thriller intercut with another derivate slasher movie.

Though only 93 minutes long, the movie creeps along ploddingly and feels like an eternal waste of time. A couple of camera angles are interesting (notably the mounted-under-the-wheelchair shot). And some of the gore sequences pack a punch (even if the slow motion is goofy and spoils the power), but if I want to make blood squirt all over the place I can recreate that effect easily enough with a squirt bottle.