The 1970s were a time of intense social change, and horror movies reflected that. Here are 13 underrated horror films from the decade.
The “obscure 70s horror movies” is a list of 13 of the most underrated horror movies from the 1970s. They are all obscure and not well-known.
Many people consider the 1970s to be the “greatest decade for horror,” and I’d be the last person to disagree. Through the 1970s, some of the best, most influential horror films ever made their first shocks, rose their first hairs, and lay eternal blueprints: The Exorcist is a horror film. Halloween. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre is a horror film set in Texas. Carrie. Christmas is bleak. A list of “greatest horror movies of the 1970s” substantially overlaps with a list of “Greatest Horror Movies Of All Time.”
It was a strange decade, and it was clearly ripe for macabre tales. The general vibe was odd and free from the 1960s, but a little darker. Standard religious rituals were scrutinized, violent crime was sensationalized in the media, and the number and influence of cults increased. People’s hearts were hardening, but their brains were opening.
As was to be expected, movies became increasingly gritty and explicit. Filmmakers had greater leeway in portraying heresy, sex, and visceral violence. Early horror’s campy creatures evolved into human humans. Religious extremism became a more prevalent source of fear. The depictions of evil were becoming more and more personal. As a result, the 1970s saw a plethora of artistically inspired horror films dealing with demonic oddities, scary folklore, house invasions, and the undead.
We’re all acquainted with the titles. Horror fans are also acquainted with the lesser-known horror films from the 1970s. But, as most horror fans know, few decades in cinema offer as rich a collection of horror jewels as the 1970s. The atmosphere was crucial. The subject matter was bizarre and out of the ordinary. Exploitation began to make inroads into a broader range of horror film subgenres. Filmmakers from all over the globe jumped on board with the rising popularity and profitability of horror and delivered fantastic works, both original and remakes. Needless to say, there’s a rich vein of underappreciated atmospheric chillers from the 1970s that few people outside of horror geek circles seem to appreciate, and they need to be recognized.
It’s important to keep this as all-encompassing as possible, presenting seldom seen riches while not alienating the inexperienced horror fan. You may be familiar with and like some of these films if you are a horror enthusiast. I hope you’ll find at least one title you’ve never heard of before. If you’re just getting started with the lesser-known 70s efforts, I say go for it! There will be plenty of witchy oddity, paranormal dread, and crass exploitation.
Evil’s Messiah (1973)
Messiah Of Evil is a brilliantly atmospheric work of odd surrealism from the 1970s that I will never weary of recommending to others. Willard Huyck and Gloria Katz (American Graffiti) made this eerie coastal town vampiric nightmare in the stylish vein of Italian and arthouse horror films, and it very much presents that way – dark, odd, gorgeous, with shots like surrealist paintings, and fever dreamlike air made ghastlier by socially disconnected strangers in unidentified danger.
Messiah Of Evil is a giallo-style vampire horror film that plays out like a sluggish zombie nightmare. It seeps under your skin with strange events and frightening imagery that only amps up and becomes more visceral as the conclusion unfolds.
Arletty (Marianna Hill) travels to a little beach village in quest of her lost eccentric artist father. She encounters a group of young travelers, including Thom (Michael Greer) and his female companions, who are looking for information about Arletty’s father as well. Local alcoholic Charlie (Elisha Cook Jr.) warns the gang about unusual occurrences in town, claiming that a “Blood Moon” is causing people to change. In her father’s large abandoned mansion, Arletty uncovers horrific diary entries from her father, which chronicle tragedies akin to what the old drunk was shouting about. Arletty and the rest of the weird tourists soon become victims of the vampiric horror.
From empty odd people to pieces of fear that exude peculiar ambience, Messiah Of Evil is brilliantly bizarre. The film’s colors are reminiscent of a giallo, with magenta, purple, and green strewn around behind eerie set pieces, like in Argento’s greatest work.
Although a few episodes are good old-fashioned haunting as hell, most of the horror is influenced by a 70s, far-out sensibility. In particular, an unforgettable terrifying grocery store scenario in which a heroine in peril enters an isolated, ominously lighted shop, which is deserted but for a group of flesh-hungry soulless night walkers, emanates zombie gold. There’s also a fantastic scene at a movie theater when a cast of dead, vampiric moviegoers descend on another lone woman in search of blood. Other scenes, such as a huge albino guy roaming around in a pick-up truck full of dead people and eating a rat, make you uncomfortable simply because they are weird. With a surrealist flair and a hallucinogenic touch, it’s a vampire flick that seems like drive-in zombie fodder.
Messiah Of Evil is almost ideal in terms of low-budget 70s films, making the most of its seaside scenery and sauntering with the intensity of a terrible acid trip. The film is a strange and satisfyingly creepy experience for people who like their horror high on aged arty atmosphere. It’s dated, perhaps a little disjointed, and perhaps too slow for the modern viewer, but it’s a strange and satisfactorily creepy experience for people who like their horror high on aged arty atmosphere.
The Youngster (1974)
The flat out obscure titles – forgotten films only recognized and appreciated by real freaks and genre lovers – are buried deep under the filthy depths beneath the horror cult classics. In 1977, an evil kid/zombie hybrid was released. The Child is one of those strange hidden marvels. This haunt has all the makings of late 1970s cult flare – zombies, a heathen kid, incomprehensible encounters, stunning vistas, and gore almost too horrible for its day. It’s a cheap sleazy old work from filmmaker Robert Voskanian, who has no previous directing or literary attempts. The Child maintains a devilishly wonderful 1970s mood, never veering from a sense of supernatural evil, and its gory moments are a kind of brutality that didn’t make it into popular film until years later.
A tiny blonde girl sits at a tomb, clutching a cat, in the first scene of The Child. She passes it to a frail hand reaching out from under the tombstone.
We next accompany adolescent Alicianne (Laurel Barnett) as she makes her way to the Nordon home, where she has been employed as Rosalie Nordon’s babysitter (Rosalie Cole.) The residence of the Nordons is tucked away in a densely forested location. Alicianne veers off the road and into a ditch on her way to the location. She is forced to walk the rest of the way and comes to a halt when she reaches the house of cheerful old Mrs. Whitfield (Ruth Ballan.) She welcomes Alicianne in and starts a discussion with her, during which she relates what little she knows about the Nordons and repeatedly cautions Alicianne about staying safe in the woods.
Alicianne arrives at the enormous eerie Nordon home after leaving Mrs Whitfield’s residence. Rosalie (the blonde girl at the beginning), her stone-cold father, and her weird elder brother are all present. Rosalie’s mother just died away, which explains why she spends so much time visiting a cemetery farther into the forest. Alicianne’s mother died as well, giving her a unique viewpoint and a strong desire to aid this little kid.
Rosalie has unusual telekinetic talents that she is employing for malevolent reasons, which is unfortunate for Alicianne and everyone else. Alicianne, a new babysitter, discovers sinister drawings, otherworldly indications, and, finally, the zombies in the woods, who may have reanimated with Rosalie’s aid. It’s time for some drive-in zombie food.
This film goes above and beyond realistically low explanations – it’s a creepy old romp. The Child creeps through stunningly scary settings with ancient buildings in the woods and a tiny storyline churning while the dismal mood radiates and a chaotic piano music hits your blood cold.
Things start to become odd, as they do in almost every 70s horror movie. Rosalie is a manipulative little tyrant who radiates pure satanic wickedness, which is fine, but her father and brother are socially challenged. The light is flickering, but no one is at home. I mean, the family has been through a lot, with the mother’s death and everything, but the Nordons are a pair of oddballs. Mrs. Whitfield is a decrepit weirdo in her own right. Supporting characters like this add to the atmosphere, but as the series progresses, viewers will find it difficult to care about the tale.
Stretches might be a little sluggish at times, and they can seem like a grind, but The Child pays off with each and every zombie apparition. The flesh-eating is obtuse and well-done in terms of cost and time. Although it isn’t too gory, Voskanian turns up the volume to “quite stinking gorey.” Before Fulci, this man had a thing with undead ripping eyes. Surprisingly ambitious nastiness in what else seems to be a 1970s spooky horror film. It’s difficult to find a package deal that includes a demonic kid, mystical intrigue, and a splattery zombie romp.
Don’t be frightened off by the lack of visibility; this is top-notch old-school zombie stuff. It’s “out there” in the 1970s, but that’s why so many of us are here. The Child has elements of The Omen, Carrie, and Night Of The Living Dead, and I think it was significantly inspired by older zombie European films such as Tombs Of The Blind Dead and Let Sleeping Corpses Lie. I believe this is a film best suited for late-night watching alone with a high-THC wax pen, or with a strange person who likes this kind of thing as much as you do.
Let’s scare Jessica to death, shall we? (1971)
Let’s Scare Jessica To Death has long been recognized or loved by elderly horror fans and those who seek for underrated classics, but its deceptive, hippy dippy slow-burn still deserves greater attention.
Jessica is played by Zohra Lampert, who was just freed from a mental facility. She moves to an isolated property with her husband and his free-spirited, beatnik buddies to live comfortably. Strange, paranormal phenomena begin to occur, and Jessica and others around her are unable to tell if they are otherworldly or the product of her madness.
Let’s Scare Jessica To Death is a creepy throwback to a bygone era, and it’s all the more uncannier for it. Late 1960s and “far out” are evoked by the new agey characters. As we slide into ethereal paranoia with Jessica, no one or object appears to be tied to reality.
A solitary farmhouse, extensive forests, a large body of water, and an old timey in the sticks town with unwelcoming folks wander without soul are among the setting’s dramatic horror locations. The soundtrack is kept simple, sometimes relying only on eerie tones and Jessica’s inner monologue. The sound design, along with the dizzying camerawork, creates a unique experience.
Let’s Scare Jessica To Death is an out-of-date movie that benefits from its age and poor budget. As psychological horror rises subtly, the creepy unfolding of events combines nicely with the patient, beautiful camera work. We, the viewer, are left to ponder whether this nightmare is otherworldly or merely psychological. As the “scares” begin to appear, they add to the already disturbing and unshakable sense that has persisted throughout the film. The phrase “atmospheric” appears multiple times in this post, as well as in any other piece on vintage horror films. Let’s Scare Jessica To Death is arguably the most atmospheric of the atmospheric treasures, and I don’t say that lightly. Paranoia and strange, unspeakable dread abound. The voices in Jessica’s thoughts were mainly scored. It’s a spine-chilling good time, and the sequence with the “woman in gown rising from a lake” is remains one of my favorite horror scenes of all time.
Confessions Of A Necrophile is a book about a necrophile who has gone insane (1974)
Deranged isn’t the most well-known of the several films based on serial murderer Ed Gein, but it’s a clever and unusual creepfest that employs a partial-mockumentary technique to help things reach scary heights. At least early in the film, before he begins doing one heinous deed after another, brilliant character actor Roberts Blossom portrays Gein in an almost sympathetic light, leaving you unclear whether to feel guilty or horrified.
Ezra Cobb is a sad, lonely elderly farmer in rural Wisconsin who lives with and cares for his ill, demanding mother (Cosette Lee.) Ezra is left alone, disoriented, and free after her death. He snaps, robs her burial, and develops a growing fixation with dead people.
Blossoms’ performance as a legitimately disturbed , pained and virtually sad main character adds to the eerie nature of Deranged. With his secluded rural existence and nut mother, you may sympathize with Ezra. Ezra is shown as a victim of his mother’s long-term emotional abuse, which creates an immediate sense of melancholy. Even as Ezra devolves into a disgusting madman, an eerie eerieness creeps out from under the sadness, pervasive, yet you’re left almost empathizing. When Ezra begins to engage in unsettling habits, such as speaking with dead corpses, following innocent ladies at dive bars, and so on, the atmosphere rapidly becomes tense. From then, it’s all-out unsettling visuals and horrible character drama.
Jeff Gillen and Alan Ormsby’s directorial duo prefers a bizarre psychological haunt and a dark ass scary crawl than crass slash’em up shenanigans, but the strange events are definitely unsettling. Gore, disgusting visuals, and unsettling violence are all there in Deranged. Given the degree of filth on display, the performances are surprisingly impressive. The narrative has a lighthearted tone to it, since it is recounted in part via documentary-style newscasting. There are certain images you won’t soon forget, as well as a feeling you won’t soon forget. The film does become a little disgusting at times and comes off as a little excessive during a few attempted scares, but it is a 1974 film about a necrophiliac.
Who Has The Power To Kill A Child? (1976)
Spanish horror offers a slew of blockbusters, ranging from well-known classics to obscure favorites that are being resurrected. Narcisco Ibanez Serrador’s nasty melancholy song Who Can Kill A Child?, a hair-raising killer child chiller set on a colorful but not very vibrant island, is one of Spain’s most disturbing forgotten classics. Who Can Kill A Child? precedes Youngsters Of The Corn and has comparable themes and playout in the area of cult-like violent children taking over remote locales.
Tom (Lewis Fiander) and Evelyn (Prunella Ransome) are English tourists who charter a boat to go to the imaginary island of Almanzora off the coast of southern Spain. They quickly discover that there are no grownups on the island. The inhabitants are all frightening youngsters who refuse to communicate and instead gaze with wicked grins on their cheeks. Tom and Evelyn believe that the youngsters are being overtaken by an unknown, evil power that is pushing them to murder their elders.
Who Has The Power To Kill A Child? Is as filthy and gloomy as the term implies. From beginning to end, the entire affair seems bleak. Tom and Evelyn are up against the ultimate evil: a gang of murdering kids who are difficult to fight against simply because they’re kids. Despite the fact that the action may seem to be moderate by today’s standards, there are gruesome killings and cinematic boundaries being pushed.
On a deeper philosophical level, Ibanez offers intriguing concerns as this bleak drama develops. “Could you murder a child?” for example. “Could you harm a fetus because you thought it was polluted by evil in the air?”
I ask myself these questions almost every day.
This is similar to Village Of The Damned, but less sci-fi and more exploitation. In a beautifully secluded environment, a straightforward chilled killer child horror with horrific brutality.
The Sentinel is a fictional character (1977)
The Sentinel shows up on a lot of the lists I make. Perhaps it’s because it’s one of my all-time favorite strange horror films. I’m not sure if this movie is “underrated” or “unknown.” To the younger generations, without a doubt. Director Michael Winner’s demonic, psychedelic haunt The Sentinel wasn’t discreetly released in the late 1970s, the cast is heavy with stars, and I believe it garnered airing on cable networks back in the day, but it went out of favor long ago. This uniquely creepy vintage, evil-feeling 70s frolic ought to be included when we speak about genuinely unpleasant movies, in my opinion.
Alison Parker (Cristina Raines), a young model, shares an apartment with her lawyer friend and possible boyfriend Michael (Chris Sarandon). Alison has changed as a result of her mental health issues and suicide attempts. She left the Catholic faith and has recently shown interest in seeking a new home. She discovers a beautiful historic building in Brooklyn Heights with the aid of a realtor.
A ghastly-looking elderly guy, who the realtor claims is a blind priest, sits in the building’s top window. Alison meets her next-door neighbor, a bizarre old guy who throws a birthday party for his cat, shortly after moving in. He introduces Alison to the rest of the building’s residents, all of whom are peculiar in their own way. There’s a heartless lesbian ballerina duo in the film, one of which, portrayed by Beverly D’Angelo, doesn’t say anything and merely lusts in front of Alison.
Activity in the flat gradually becomes more aggressively weird. Alison loses her hold on reality, or maybe reality itself is unsettling and disintegrating around her. She discovers that her building might be a portal to Hell.
The Sentinel seems to have an acid-laced vision and transgression, evoking the unmistakable depravity and weirdness of the 1970s. The Sentinel offers innovative concepts, terrifying vistas, and its own particular touch of far out spooky, while being plainly influenced by Rosemary’s Baby and filmed in the latter half of a decade dominated by satanic subject matter. While she’s now living in a slowly collapsing hell full of oddballs, Alison has memories about her father’s terrible sexual activities. The atmosphere is constantly bleak. The aesthetic is reminiscent of 1970s New York, which is raw yet dreamlike, edgy but aristocratic. The pure eerie moments are tinged with evil, and the imagery designed to terrify – a zombified abusive father, a demonic priest, and an army of malformed humans – does its purpose.
Winner was chastised for some of the shocks in The Sentinel, in which he cast actual persons with abnormalities as demonic beings that appear as though the doorway to hell is open. Today, that sounds revolting. It was also in terrible taste at the time. But it’s genuine. Unsettling. It’s effectively terrifying. Call me a jerk (please don’t), but The Sentinel’s finale is a true chiller, and I believe Winner’s dubious decision added to the suspense.
There are many unforgettable shocks, including the climax, and the performances are equally noteworthy.
A star-studded ensemble elevates a basic but respectable, uncomplicated narrative to fantastically terrifying heights. To a nice yet scary elderly neighbor, Burgess Meredith offers something both appealing and disturbing. Sylvia Miles is the more powerful and chilly of the unusual ballerina duo, with a thick slavic accent and a frosty demeanor. The list of celebrities who are backing celebrities is ridiculous. Ava Gardner, John Carradine, Mel Ferrer, Arthur Kennedy, and a teenage Christopher Walken star in this film. There’s Tom Berenger sneaking his way into the finale. For an ancient horror film that few people seem to care about, this is a really amazing selection.
The Sentinel, like any other film on this list, may be too “slow” or “strange” for some, but if you’re in the proper mindset and can simply get into the feverish vibe, this ghastly number will crawl under your skin. An ugly supernatural thriller that was mistakenly left in the 1970s. One of my primary life objectives, among a few others, is to assist this film in finding its right audience.
Burnt Sacrifices (1976)
Burnt Offerings is an uncommon haunted home horror, among what I’d call archetypal haunted house fare, it’s magnificently dark, well-acted, and nevertheless powerfully terrifying despite hokiness, another film that crops up repeatedly in my list writing.
Oliver Reed and Karen Black feature as a couple (The Rolfs) who rent a mansion for the summer with their little kid. The Rolfs are ruled by an invisible entity in their house, which has serious psychological consequences. Karen Black’s Marian gets strangely enamored with and bonded to the house, while Reed’s character Ben turns aggressive. Ben begins to have disturbing memories of a funeral he attended as a youngster. Those creepy black-and-white memories with the nameless, towering, grinning driver are among the scariest sequences in horror movie history, in my opinion.
Overall, the picture has a tense atmosphere and a developing insanity to it. Though it appeared before The Shining, it has been compared to The Shining, and Stephen King has said that Burnt Offerings and the book it was based on were the basis for his work. Director Dan Curtis cranks up the atmosphere by filming a lot of low-angle shots that make the ancient country home appear colossal and sinister. The inside of the house looks like what you’d see if you closed your eyes and imagined an ancient haunted house. Its grounds are just too charming to not turn into a living nightmare. Ben’s transformation into a violent madman in one thrilling moment takes place in a neglected, greenish pool.
The hard lifting is done by the atmosphere and the performance. Oliver Reed and Karen Black are deserving of praise, however I will point out that Reed portrays a frightening patriarch who is terrifying to watch spiral into lunacy. Burgess Meredith, the horror all-star squad captain, leads the supporting cast with unsettling performances. Burnt Offerings is an excellent, psychologically-driven horror film, but it’s the aforementioned chauffeur who elevates it to greatness.
Beyond the Shadows (1979)
Joe D’amato, an Italian arthouse sleaze artist, began his career in adult films, and his subsequent genre work in the 1970s and 1980s was no less savory. In terms of generating enduring masterpieces among prolific Italian horror filmmakers, he’s no Bava, Argento, or Fulci, but D’amato is in that cut just under, with the lesser-known shlock masters and horror wits that crafted cult favorites. exploitative filmmakers like Umberto Lenzi and Ruggero Deodato D’amato has a slew of flicks that come up in horror discussions and have devoted followings. Anthropohagus, his most popular picture, is a slow-paced cannibalism film set on a Greek island that has a reputation for being horrible. It’s well-made and a deliciously scary late-’70s product, but it’s dull and uninspiring in my opinion. His slasher Absurd is a gory, strange delight that is also a little sluggish. Beyond The Darkness, a light story of taxidermy and necrophilia, is my favorite of Joe D’amato’s filthy, sleazy horrors from the 1970s.
Beyond The Darkness is all you’d expect from a D’amato flick – In terms of execution, on the drug-induced, art student side. Slow-moving and odd and unsettling at all times. For its strange characters, it’s a gory violent jumble. In general, it’s a terrible vintage chiller that’s spacy, nuanced, and unbearably repulsive.
Francesco (Kieran Canter), an orphaned young guy, lives in an isolated cottage in the woods with his overprotective carer Iris (Franca Stoppi). Iris murders Anna, Francesco’s girlfriend, with a voodoo doll in a jealous fury. Francesco isn’t happy to go on without Anna, so he uses taxidermy to bring her back.
Beyond The Darkness, like all Joe D’amato flicks, is disgusting to see. A filthy story told in a gory, nasty, and arrogant manner. However, as exploitative as it is, it is sluggish to the point of boredom, and persistently unsettling. D’amato takes his leisurely pace and devotes it to intimate images. Violence is captured delicately, as if it were a pornographic film from the 1970s. It makes me feel disgusted and out of place. This movie is fantastic. Although the acting is weak and there isn’t a compelling figure to care for, this is a heady, opportunistic discomfort.
The Other Person (1972)
This scary, slow-churning, old school story of rural farm town terror, directed by Robert Mulligan and based on the Thomas Tryon book of the same name, has justifiably built a cult fan following of atmospheric horror aficionados. It may seem to be an escape into the languid and expansive rural America of the 1930s, but an underlying darkness lurks in this charming agricultural community. The atmosphere is stale, and the mood is shaky. Things begin to seem otherworldly, but the terror turns out to be far more frightening and human.
The Other is a film about 12-year-old twins Niles (Chris Udvarnoky) and Perry (Martin Udvarnoky) Holland, who live with their grandmother Ada in a tranquil Connecticut farm village in the 1930s (Uta Hagen.) Ada teaches the boys a game called “the game,” but while they play it, strange things start to happen. This agricultural village in the middle of nowhere has never seen bloodshed before. Ada, befuddled and heartbroken, deduces that Perry may be to blame for the unpleasant occurrences that have occurred.
The Other is a classic exercise in atmospheric dread, advancing slowly in a peaceful lovely setting towards a huge surprise, which sounds like every other picture on this list, but Mulligan discloses the “shock” to us quite early on and has more twists in store. He takes the style of a traditional horror filmmaker, meticulously framing images and leaving magnificent views looming in the background to create the atmosphere of an ancient otherworldly haunt. What happens next is scary on a psychological level. It’s bleak and unexpected. For anything from the early 1970s, the turns are very gloomy. The Other combines old school methods with newer school, unsettling subject matter to create a memorable and distinct brand of melancholy early 1970s horror. Uta Hagen gives a stunning performance as unexpected hero Ada, while Chris and Martin Udvarnoky provide frightening performances as the impossible to measure, odd tiny twins.
Scalpel is a term used to describe a (1977)
Scalpel, a scary melodramatic psycho thriller from the late 1970s, isn’t often mentioned, but I feel Giallo and gothic horror aficionados would like it for its southern gothic essence and twisting, hot, insane playout.
Dr. Phillip Reynolds (Robert Lansing) is a deranged cosmetic surgeon who is enraged when he finds that his missing daughter (who fled owing to the doc’s violently violent tendencies) is heir to the family money. He meets Heather, a battered go-go dancer, one evening (Judith Chapman.) He offers to rebuild her face and guarantees her a share of the money his daughter would inherit, but he will change her face to look like his daughter’s.
Scalpel is more of a disturbing mix of sleazy soap opera and psychological thriller than a straight horror film, but it’s shocking and deranged and everything you’d hope to see in your ambient 1970s efforts.
Robert Lansing is a beautifully irritating leading maniac – kind on the outside, trustworthy on the inside, but a monster on the inside. As he connives, abuses, and displays incestual feelings, he is a fascinating figure to be disturbed by. As a victim of Doc Reynolds’ craziness, Judith Chapman, who plays two parts, is immensely riveting. She breaks through the strange ambience with an unexpectedly fascinating performance, making everything seem heavier as the night progresses.
We enter unsettling terrain after Heather is recreated to resemble Doc’s daughter. Scalpel takes some ugly twists and doesn’t hold back when it comes to provocative images. Director John Grissmer only directed one other picture, the cult masterpiece Blood Rage from 1987. Scalpel has a grip on soapy psycho drama here, and although the picture has the dry frame and appearance of a television movie, that strange air works well for the film. It’s a character-driven story that’s dry, dramatic, and character-driven. Its themes are unsettling, and the execution, in such a light vessel, is absolutely unsettling. Grissmer should have created more films, since Scalpel is a filthy and frightening dreary old number.
The Evil Queens (1970)
Queens Of Evil is eccentric early Eurotrash with a delightfully terrifying conclusion, even if it is a very long burn. Tonino Cervi’s little-known Italian horror doesn’t readily fall into a category – it’s sleazy sexploitation, it’s folk horror, and it’s usually one of those sluggish, quirky, not really comprehensible old horrors you watch to get lost in strangeness.
Ray Lovelock, a hippy riding his motorbike, comes into an isolated home in the woods that he assumes is abandoned. He’s awakened to find three sisters (Evelyn Stewart, Sylvia Monti, and Haydee Politof) living in the house after spent the night in the shed. A decadent setting They ask David, a biker, to stay, which leads to lust, intimacy, and a witchy twist.
Queens Of Evil is what I’d call a one-of-a-kind work of dark arts erotica: artful, refined, not overly eventful, but intriguing in its dry stroll towards fear. Cervi’s shock conclusion is predictable, but it’s nonetheless terrifyingly entertaining. This far out sleazy crabwalk will no sure thrill genre weirdos, but it isn’t for everyone. It’s an Italian genre film from the early 1970s that deals with sex and the macabre, therefore there’s just one selling point: strange atmosphere.
As the principal females, Stewart, Monti, and Politof have an enticing, mysterious chemistry that adds to the film’s ominous atmosphere. The film is enticing in a manner that is embarrassing to confess. A rather distant wooded environment. A house with a sophisticated opulent decor and a collection of strange females living in it? And these women are just giving a hippy stranger the time of his life in terms of romance? It doesn’t take a seasoned horror fan to detect skin-crawling weirdness, yet you’re also left with a feeling of curiosity that goes beyond dark horror suspicions. If you’re a weirdo, I’m guessing you’re a bit turned on, then Queens Of Evil is for you. The film, like most of the others on this list, is a strange, sexually soaked, drug-laced oddity.
Venice’s Damned (1978)
Damned In Venice is obscure old Italian fare that has the anticipated flaws, such as tedious stretches and sloppy editing, but it’s a nasty chiller in the “birthing the antichrist” category, set in a lovely Venice of another time, it’s an important spooky entry in the log of underrated Italian horror.
After their religious fanatic grandmother dies, a blind child named Mark (Renato Cestie) and his narcissistic brat sister Christine (Rena Niehaus) go to Venice to live with their ailing aunt and melancholy uncle. When their aunt passes away, their uncle commits himself, leaving Christine to care for Mark. Mark starts to have terrifying dreams of a demonic presence in his sister and the coming of Hell as she converts their Venice home into a brothel. Christine falls pregnant despite being a virgin. Her treatment of Mark progresses from terrible to heinous. Mark is left to fight the demon on his own.
Rosemary’s Baby influenced a slew of “pregnant with the devil” films around the world, and The Exorcist sparked a flurry of possession films not long after. You may waste a lot of time looking for rip-offs of these diabolical masterpieces in Europe. There are likely to be a slew of inventive films that were inspired by them but have something unique to offer. It’s true that excellent low-budget Italian attempts are scarier than you may anticipate. Damned In Venice is a difficult to come by entry in the Italian Rosemary’s Baby& The Exorcist-style copy pile, but it’s an original worth seeking out.
Mark’s relationship with his horribly unlikable cruel sister Christine, who is blind and largely useless, is tense. The sad drama escalates. The tale is woven with a crushing, strange melancholy, but as Mark begins to get grotesque visions of impending doom, we get complete terror on top of an exceedingly sad tragedy. Director Ugo Liberatore places the two young people in the surreal city of Venice, which should be free of the depravity and wickedness that is going on. The brothel activity, visions of Satan, insects and rodents making several unpleasant appearances, people getting pierced with nails, sight of the devil, and infant murder are all unaffected by the beautiful surroundings.
Damned Venice is brutal and ominous without being overbearing, as a “Exorcist rip-off” would be. The actors all take themselves seriously and act well, making this seem more threatening than it should for a low-budget film with a lack of coherence. It’s unappealing and nuanced, but it’s not exploitative. It’s gruesome, but not in a gory way. You will watch a body rot, but it will not be over-the-top and stupid, if you get what I mean. Ugo Liberatore’s ostensibly obscure antichrist romp is genuine old Italian horror with a dash of wretchedness.
The Claw of Satan’s Blood (1971)
The Blood On Satan’s Claw is a lushly atmospheric, devilishly terrifying British folk horror classic that seems as much like a Hammer picture as a non-Hammer film can. A somber occult fear slow-burner with all the essentials: Rituals of cults. Murderous children. Paranoia about witches. It’s all taking place in a beautiful pastoral area with a devilish vibe to it.
A little community in the English countryside is engulfed in witch mania. Dead corpses with patches of fur on them are showing up. Angel (Linda Hayden), a young, apparently popular girl, joins a local judge and a ploughman in their investigation and goal to find out and combat whatever witchy evil is sweeping the community. Angela, along with every other kid in town, is in on the Pagan rituals responsible, which the adults are completely unaware of.
The Blood On Satan’s is an archetypal minor classic of folk horror, with the moodiness, beautiful location, and demonic images that have become standard in the genre. It’s a lovely, foggy afternoon crawl as the people of this 17th century town squabble amongst themselves and surprising fatalities are unearthed. Spooky pagan activities are sprinkled throughout the film, leading up to an exciting final act in which cult atrocities are revealed. What follows is a deserving, surprising payoff that is frightening in its own right. The conclusion is more sensual and startling than one would anticipate from a supposedly classic horror film.
Linda Hayden is a youthful, engaging terrifying villain who contributes to the film’s really disturbing rather than cheesy and antiquated horror twists. She manipulates the adults in the town through a doomy plunge into occult fear, and she does it in a cruel, gloomy manner that adds to the already oozing dark ambience. The Blood On Satan’s Claw is a terrific, atmospheric British horror classic that I’m not simply bringing up for the sake of a list.
“13 of the Most Underrated Horror Movies of the 1970s” is a blog post about 13 cheesy 70s horror movies. The list includes “The Omen”, “Halloween”, and “Carrie”.
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