Night of the Sorcerers

The Carolina Panthers piss me off.  Sorry, I'm already poised to detonate down a tangential path to nowhere.  I see sports as escapism, but when your team bends over for a rotting quarterback (speaking of zombies), it's hard to stay in a balmy mood.  What movie am I reviewing again?  Oh, right.  Here we have an Amando de Ossorio vehicle, a fine example of escapism coming to fruition.  Ossorio is one of the more consistent horror auteurs to creep out of the 70's, having helmed Tombs of the Blind Dead and its spectral upshots.  He's certainly more consistent than our offensive line.  Sorry, sorry...it won't happen again.

Watching 1974's Night of the Sorcerers, I couldn't help but think of the late Ruggero Deodato.  The narrative pitch sees a group of documentary filmmakers decamp to a secluded island to study endangered elephants.  They don't run into cannibals, but they do infringe upon ritualistic voodoo tribes who luxuriate in flogging and beheading women.  Ossorio knows how to shoot these ceremonial liturgies, as each death radiates agony in the same way that a prism convex lantern radiates light (???).  Unfortunately, the formula grows tiresome.  I didn't think it was possible to yawn while gawking at naked ladies, but we'll chalk it up as a learning experience.

Sorcerors is a visual feast.  I dug the use of filters (or what I'm assuming were filters) to color the hinterlands at night.  The lens is rubricated for scenes set in a makeshift dark room, while jungle exteriors are bathed in powder blues.  Hey, do you think Victor Salva has the Powder blues?  Ack, I'm terribly sorry...that's three apologies in one post; I may have set a new record.  I digress!  Due to the repetitive nature of the film, the pacing suffers and everything slows to a crawl.  'Tis a pity.  The lovely Maria Kosty and the just-as-lovely Barbara Rey didn't disrobe for the viewer to snatch some shut-eye.  Pun intended?

If you're into necromancy and leopard demons, you might have fun with Night of the Sorcerors.  Then again, you might not.  My vote is ambivalent.  To catch Ossorio in peak condition, I recommend The Loreley's Grasp.  Robert Z'Dar says, "Will we ever nab an actual quarterback?  And what about our secondary?  We should have tanked so that we could at least exploit the draft for what it's worth.  What are we supposed to do with six wins?  Six bloody wins!  My chin could scramble better than Sam Darnold.  The real question is, will Dom ever stop bellyaching vicariously through me?"