(Eddy Matalon, 1977)
As a piece of craftsmanship, this piece of shit gives "Things" a run for its money. Even apart from the atrocious condition of the near-slash print they transferred the DVD from, the thing moves like a stuttering rhinoceros; the actors wouldn't pass muster in the Bancroft community theatre; the special effects amount to fishing line and jump cuts; and the plot is such a seventies possessed-brat rehash that it barely registers. Nonetheless, I'm telling you, this movie is creepy. For all its transparent ludicrousness, and without anything remotely resembling an inspired artistic gesture, it hit me in the subconscious like a half-remembered bad dream. Matalon's subsequent feature, "Blackout", alchemically transformed ambition and production values (of a sort) into crippling liabilities. This one turns abject failure into something that I can't shake off. Call me a fool, but I may even watch it again, and with the lights on.