Das Orakel

A woman is forced into investigating the death of a murdered man after messing with the former tentant's writing device that is used to contact the dead. Sometimes exciting and scary horror pic with some well done scenes, is ultimately too slow moving and dull to maintain interest throughout despite good premise. Rated R; Violence, Profanity, and Adult Themes.

A young couple rent a New York City apartment previously occupied by a strange elderly soothsayer. The wife plunders the deceased old lady's belonging and finds an oracle(a hand-shaped device used to communicate with the dead). She unwisely tests the item's power, gradually becoming a living instrument of revenge for a recent murder victim. As her involvement in the situation deepens, so does her frustration when her husband and friends express concern for her mental health...they dismiss her strange experiences as hallucinations, despite a rash of mysterious deaths taking place around them.

For a Roberta Findlay film, this one is actually not as spectacularly awful as it should be, and does manage to maintain interest and deliver some fairly gory moments. Standing on its own merits, however, it's a throwaway picture with typically staid performances(a couple of the secondary characters are commendably played, most notably the sadistic lesbian psychopath), and the special effects are...well...neither special nor effective.

Not recommendable, but beneath the crust of cheapness is a semi-worthy watch...*IF* you're willing to take a brain laxative and dumb yourself down for 90 minutes.

4/10

Jennifer and her husband move into an apartment formerly occupied by a medium, and Jennifer discovers the writing device the former occupant used to converse with the dead. After dinner with friends, Jennifer uses the device and all kinds of weird things begin to happen, as various characters meet untimely ends and Jennifer has to contend with the widow of a murdered man and the obese lesbian hitwoman she employs to keep Jennifer quiet. Will the madness never end?

This off-kilter little exercise in no-budget filmmaking was directed by Roberta Findlay who, along with her late husband Michael, created a particularly putrid brand of grindhouse fare in the late 60s. Their flicks were virulent cocktails of lesbianism, violence, torture and perversion, and it's nice to see that the passage of time hadn't improved Roberta's filmmaking abilities one bit! Wires attached to books to make them fly off shelves, a man's head being pulled off by big booga-booga Halloween laytex hands, gratuitous disfigurement via noxious industrial waste-- sheez, this film seems like it's from another era. This thing must have only played in the handful of drive-ins and grimey remnant of flop houses that still operated in the mid-eighties, because no savvy viewer then would have accepted this as the gruesome slash-fest it was touted in ads to be. Only slightly amusing in it's incompetence

Caroline Capers Powers finds a leather-covered box and an odd automatic writing set-up -- Parker Brothers wouldn't let them use a Ouija board -- and starts getting creepy messages that lead her to an unsolved murder. No one believes her, of course, especially husband Roger Neil and his porn-star mustache. Her investigations trigger the real killers to target her.

It's a blah movie, distinguished neither by excellence nor ineptness; Miss Powers spends a lot of time screaming. The camerawork is very fluid, and the planchette is sort of interesting, but that's about the limit of this one. For fans of the genre.

.When a young couple move into an apartment, they find a box that belonged to the deceased former tenant. Inside is an ornate planchette, a ceramic hand which holds a quill pen and can communicate with the dead. After using it at a dinner party, the wife (Caroline Capers Powers) becomes psychically linked to a series of murders being committed by an obese killer. There's also an effort by the husband (Roger Neil) to get rid of the planchette, which keeps returning, though usually after facilitating the gruesome death of whoever was unlucky enough to come into contact with it.

This is better than most of the dreck Findlay and her husband made back in the 60's and 70's, when they were two of the most successful sexploitation filmmakers on the NY scene. Michael Findlay was killed in a freak helicopter accident in 1977, and Roberta continued to make movies, mostly hardcore porn, before moving into more legitimate filmmaking like this movie. It's still not a good film at all, really, but it has enough goofy plot twists and chintzy special effects to make it worth seeing once for bad movie fans. Yet I can't just lie to you and give it an average rating.