Alarm bells should always sound when the actor who played a reoccurring role in a horror franchise suddenly opts out mid series. After all, Robert Englund never ditched Freddy, Brad Dourif has sworn to still play Chucky into his retirement and even the Candyman reboot brought back Tony Todd in some form or another – but the point I’m trying to make is that when you gaze upon the poster for Warlock: The End Of Innocence, the fact that it’s the face of serial rent-a-baddie Bruce Payne that’s glaring back at you and not Julian Sands, should be cause to panic.
While the previous two Warlock movies aren’t exactly household names, the wickedly witty first film is something of an underrated gem, while the second drops every hint of subtlety in order to be a gooey, gorey, special effects blowout. However, the third movie chooses to go the route of every other, direct to video, cheapjack horror film of the late 1990s and delivery a dreary entry that casts the spell of boredom over anyone who watches it.
Adopted art student Kris is trying to make her way through college while carrying the burden of not knowing a single thing about her past and while she has a boyfriend and a close group of comrades whom she can confide in, it’s still a fact that nags deep in her soul. So imagine her surprise when she get a call from a historian and receives word that she’s inherited a family home that belonged to her relatives, whomever the hell they might be.
Understandably, she wants to visit immediately, but even though Kris is close with her friends, they’re also an assorted bunch of random red flags who all whine out various excuses why they don’t want to go. However, after going there without them, they all eventually come to visit, but not before Kris has experienced a whole bunch of creepy shit than involves creepy dolls, flashbacks to the 1600s and some trippy stuff involving a mirror while staying there alone. However, after one of their number causes some damage while trying to fix some pipes (typical students), they unwittingly manage to release the spirit of a Warlock who was trapped within the catacombs beneath the house for hundreds of years who soon takes the name Phillip Corvington as poses as a local architect who is interested in the house despite the fact the place looks like shit.
Of course, it’s really Kris he’s after as her mysterious bloodline is connected to some mystical mumbo jumbo that will allow him to create a race of pure evil (or something), but to claim her as a sacrifice, she has to be given over to him willingly by those who care for her, so while Corvington attempts to woo Kris, he also starts looking into the fairly obvious weaknesses of her friends in order to bend them to his will and force their consent. However, I don’t think it’s going to take him that much effort considering that Kris has something of a shitty choice in friends.
I suspect no one was expecting much of a belated trilogy capper to a franchise that no one seems to ever name drop, but even taken by these low standards, the third Warlock movie crashes and burns with inevitability predictably. While both the first and second movies got enjoyable mileage by having characters traverse America in search of whatever book or amulet will allow the Warlock to annihilate all life as we know it, the third movie only has the budget to allow its hapless band of students to wander around a single, grotty house while barely (and weirdly) ever venturing outside and so the movie immediately comes off as visually arresting as watching a blank tv screen. Similarly, the plot has swapped one stock plot for another as the road trip trappings have now morphed into the kind of “lost ancestors” plot that felt like it was the plot of around 70% of all direct to video horror flicks during the late 90s/early 00s.
Director Eric Freiser obviously thinks he’s being edgy as fuck by eliminating the wry wit of the first film and ditching the carnival of lunacy of the sequel for a more brooding tone that means we have to spend a fair amount of time with an incredibly insipid ground of characters who all happily conform to the usual stereotypes. There’s the horny couple who come complete with tribal tattoos, muscle shirts and a love of BDSM; there’s the kooky, practising witch; the token incel who is in love with the main character and then there’s the obnoxious boyfriend – but the problem is that if the movie ultimately hangs on Kris having friends who will be forced to give her up by the foolish villain, wouldn’t be more dramatic to not give her companions who obviously look like they’d give her up for a fucking candy bar?
As well as some bad plotting, the filmmakers double down on some weirdly specific tactics in order to keep you focused on the backstory and anyone wishing to play a drinking game based on how many times the sound effect of a screeching eagle is played whenever the camera lingers on a plot-vital doll may well want to book an ambulance in advance. While I get that it’s just good storytelling to remind the audience fairly regularly of the importance of a certain macguffin until it inevitably pays off in the final reel, the director must think that his audience have the recollective powers of a fucking goldfish as he seemingly plays the irritating sound every three minutes.
However – and I can’t believe I’m saying this – once Warlock: The End Of Innocence gets past the introductions and gets Bruce Payne onto the scene, things upgrade from being painfully bland to barely watchable the second he starts adding some much needed camp to proceedings. Anyone familiar with Payne’s low rent brand of cinematic villainy will be familiar with his trademark leering and arched eyebrows, but while he doesn’t seem to be having anywhere near as much fun as his predecessor did (would you if your entire movie was confined to a single house), he still gets stuck in delivering quips and acting like he has the power of a god when all he’s doing is telekinetically moving furniture around.
Still, the deaths are ok (a shock throat ripping is particularly well done) and while the final act riffs on Wishmaster quite a bit, the torment that cast goes through plus the presence of Ashley Laurence as the lead gives it the feel of one of the better, direct to video Hellraiser sequels – although anyone who’s trawled through the dregs of that franchise will know that’s not quite the compliment it’s cracked up to be.
As a minor horror franchise curls up like a spider and dies right in front of us, you can’t help but wonder what kind of response the filmmakers were expecting when someone hit upon the bright idea of making this unwanted entry in the first place. I mean, not even a Warlock could conjure up something to save this son of a witch.
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