Dir: Alberto De Martino.
Cast: Carla Gravina, Mel Ferrer, Arthur Kennedy, George Coulouris, Anita Strindberg, Alida Valli, Mario Scaccia and Umberto Orsini.
"I've been waiting 400 years but I piss on that time!"
Poor Ippolita Oderisi (Gravina) not only cursed with pube like ginger hair but, due to her dad Massimo's (Ferrer-no introduction necessary) reckless driving causing a crash and killing her mother when she was twelve years old she's now confined to a wheelchair as well.
Ten years later and just about every doctor in Italy (including Giovanni Frezza and Dr. Butcher MD no doubt) have given her the once over and not a single one of them can find anything wrong with her spine (her haircut is another story however) yet she can barely lift herself out of her wheelchair and has to stand with the aid of a cane.
Lazy cow.
Massimo, obviously fed up with being made to feel guilty over his daughters indolence (oh and killing her mum whilst pissed) decides to take her to a wee church deep in the countryside where a frighteningly butch and bright blue for someone unknown reason, statue of the Virgin Mary is reputed to have miraculous healing powers.
And a love of KD Lang obviously.
Lang: lesbian.
Surrounded by a throng of scarily praying pikeys and filled with the love of God Ippolita attempts to stand.....and promptly falls flat on her (harsh) face.
Harsh.
Whilst her dad is mortified (at least the locals are grateful for such a good laugh first thing in the morning) Ippolita seems almost nonchalant about the whole thing, almost as tho' she expected God to ignore her. You see it appears that she's been having blasphemous thoughts (mostly about a really pervy painting of Jesus, resplendent with a huge 14 inch cock and balls leatherier than Sean Connery's), confessing as much to her uncle who just happens to be the local bishop (another top turn from everyones favourite drunken Oirish man Kennedy) .
Arthur prepares to position his favourite choir boy.
And if that wasn't enough, she's also taken to having nasty violent thoughts about her dad's new squeeze Greta (big boned Strindberg from Fulci's classic Lizard in a Woman’s Skin), you see Ippolita is insane with jealousy at the mere thought of her father showing affection toward anyone but her.
Grow up hen.
Fuck the satanic possession....check the tie!
It's not long before nearly all of Ippolitia’s family (and even the maid) are mightily pissed off with her frankly childish behavior and come to the conclusion that she needs locking up.
Her uncle, as it happens, knows a good psychiatrist, Dr. Marcello Sinibaldi (Orsini the camp as pants 'star' of Diary of a Cloistered Nun) to attend a big bash at the family villa, the idea being that they can check out lil' miss mentalism without her being any the wiser.
Sneaky.
Unluckily for them (and a huge surprise for us) Ippolita has psychic powers and sees right through the pairs plan, but she doesn't throw a stroppy fit (for a change) as she's vaguely interested by Sinibaldi’s claim that her paralysis is really psychosomatic, and that he can cure her of both it and her mentalism by hypnotic regression.
"You've got shite in yer mooth again hen".
Ippolita, well up for a wee bit of hypnotic regression (but aren't we all?) turns up at (well, wheels in to if I'm honest) the dishy docs office and is quickly under his spell so to speak and after the obvious pretend you're a sheep and eat this onion it's really an apple gags something interesting happens.
For the first time so far in this movie I hasten to add.
You see, it turns out that one of her ancestors was burned at the stake for witchcraft some 500 years ago (for, amongst other things eating a toad and, I kid you not, rimming a goat - in glorious technicolour!). Unluckily this deep, dark family memory inadvertently triggers a case of demonic possession!
"Sorry father, I farted".
Starting with the obvious (you know talking in a deep, sexy voice in various languages - or is that just the abysmal dubbing?) she soon moves onto more impressive stuff like psychokinesis (well, she moves some plant pots and a chest of drawers) and, most amazing of all, walking!
And how does she use her new found mobility? Well as anyone in this situation would, she uses it to sneak out of her villa to seduce (then snap the necks of) young Germans.
Sinibaldi tries his best to think up a reasonable scientific explanation for everything that's going on but is frankly stumped whilst Irene (the aforementioned nanny/maid/hired help) secretly phones the local expert in the art of folk magic (Scaccia).
Pity everyone in the movie is a devout Catholic and all tut and umm at the use of so called 'magic', reckoning that any such power can ultimately be linked to the devil himself, meaning that his flashy words and wizardy tricks are totally useless against Ippolita.
Arse.
"Tongue on mah pillow".
(But luckily not up a goats arsehole).
(But luckily not up a goats arsehole).
Finally, the bishop (who's obviously taken so long to get to the phone because he can only move diagonally) rings exorcist for hire Father Jeff Mittner (The Woman Eater's Coulouris) who, from watching him at work appears to have just viewed The Exorcist about a hundred times and made extensive notes, seeing as the whole service/movies ever building climax is lifted almost wholesale from that film).
But can he sort out the pesky demon once and for all?
Cue a frighteningly long and wordy exorcism complete with a floating lady, vomit, seductive glances, green facepainted nipples and an utterly terrifying Tefal headed, Rod Stewart wigged Ippolita swearing alot.
Your mum in her best clothes on a night out.
But, in a shocking turn of events the film suddenly becomes a (very) cut rate Rosemary’s Baby, with the shocking reveal that the true purpose for Ippolita’s possession is for her to carry the baby Antichrist (in her tummy, not in a Moses basket).
Will the might of Catholicism be enough to avert the birth of the devil himself?
Seriously, what do you think?
Alberto De Martino's fantastically crass retread of The Exorcist (to name but one 'influence') boldly goes where other cheap Euro' rip-offs fear to tread. Whereas most cash-ins cut back on expensive effects, name actors and the like L’Anticristo positively revels in it's cut price glory, featuring as it does not one but two Hollywood has-beens and brilliantly conceived (and not to mention insanely bonkers) stand out set-pieces.
Kennedy and Ferrer give us more ham than a butchers market and in an attempt to outdo Linda Blair floating above a bed, L’Anticristo has Gravina not only rising out of her wheelchair, but gracefully gliding out of an open window and entertaining us with an airbourne dancer number.
Well, it's not just John Wayne who's big leggy.
But the movies greatest scene must be when Ippolita's possessed right hand floats across the room and starts to strangle the white wizard man.
DiMartino’s direction is desperate — you can almost feel his ultimately futile attempts to make an honest to goodness scary movie collapse around him. Luckily he had the amazing Aristide Massaccesi working as his Director of Photography to help save the day.
And who the hell is Aristide Massaccesi? I hear you cry.
Well, he's none other than the cinematic god also known as Joe D’Amato , so it's probably him we have to thank for the classic devil worshiping scene, featuring as it does kinky naked orgies, the eating of a toad and the aforementioned goat/tongue/arse interface.
D'Amato we salute you!
And the ass saw the angle was
slightly wrong for a good photograph.
slightly wrong for a good photograph.
Oh, and De Martino, you did not bad yerself big fella.
Top-notch thrills for lovers of devil movies, harsh ginger birds and goat sex everywhere.
An essential purchase (if not a wholly legal one).
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