Sex of the Witch opens in standard murder/mystery mode at the home of Thomas Hilton, where a bunch of his relatives have convened to say their last goodbyes. After the old guy pops his clogs, there's the reading of the will, the estate divided equally, with the stipulation that if any of the beneficiaries should die, then their share will be split between the others. It's the perfect set up for a Giallo - except that the film doesn't play out as one might expect...
Although a couple of people do get murdered by a mysterious unseen figure (one victim gets his head bashed in with a mace, and another has his throat slashed with a straight razor; both deaths are frustratingly tame), director Angelo Pannacciò seems more intent on delivering nudity than horror, the 'thrust' of his film being the soft-core couplings of various characters. While attractive ladies in the altogether are all well and good, the lack of a comprehensible plot and Pannacciò's torpid direction make this a total snooze-fest.
Try as I might, I soon lost track of what was happening, and who was doing who, and longed for the whole sorry mess to come to an end. We get a long, colour-tinted scene in which seventies swingers party to a crappy song (which I'll hazard a guess is called 'Yes, I Know'), some nonsense involving a pair of metal Javanese nails (the relevance of which completely evades me), goldfish fondling, Camille 'I Spit On Your Grave' Keaton looking bored (but not as bored as me), an abundance of strange bird noises, and an ending that makes very little sense: a man transforms into a woman after being shot and all of the beneficiaries are revealed to be dead.
To be honest, apart from the good-looking ladies in the buff, the only worthy thing about this film is its cool painted poster depicting a beautiful, topless red-head about to be throttled by a killer wearing black leather gloves.
*An hour after posting this review, I discover that the poster for Sex of the Witch uses the same painting as the poster for Byleth, Il demone dell'incesto, which came out the year before. Hence, I'm reducing my original rating of 2/10 by a point.
Although a couple of people do get murdered by a mysterious unseen figure (one victim gets his head bashed in with a mace, and another has his throat slashed with a straight razor; both deaths are frustratingly tame), director Angelo Pannacciò seems more intent on delivering nudity than horror, the 'thrust' of his film being the soft-core couplings of various characters. While attractive ladies in the altogether are all well and good, the lack of a comprehensible plot and Pannacciò's torpid direction make this a total snooze-fest.
Try as I might, I soon lost track of what was happening, and who was doing who, and longed for the whole sorry mess to come to an end. We get a long, colour-tinted scene in which seventies swingers party to a crappy song (which I'll hazard a guess is called 'Yes, I Know'), some nonsense involving a pair of metal Javanese nails (the relevance of which completely evades me), goldfish fondling, Camille 'I Spit On Your Grave' Keaton looking bored (but not as bored as me), an abundance of strange bird noises, and an ending that makes very little sense: a man transforms into a woman after being shot and all of the beneficiaries are revealed to be dead.
To be honest, apart from the good-looking ladies in the buff, the only worthy thing about this film is its cool painted poster depicting a beautiful, topless red-head about to be throttled by a killer wearing black leather gloves.
*An hour after posting this review, I discover that the poster for Sex of the Witch uses the same painting as the poster for Byleth, Il demone dell'incesto, which came out the year before. Hence, I'm reducing my original rating of 2/10 by a point.