THE INCUBUS (1981)

Director: John Hough Screenplay: Ray Russell, George Franklin Starring: John Cassavetes, John Ireland, Kerrie Keane Runtime: 93 minutes The Incubus. He is the Destroyer.

There’s something kind of admirable about a horror film that throws absolutely everything at the wall regardless of whether any of it sticks. It feels like we got a lot more of that in the 80s too and The Incubus (1982) is very much that kind of film. Directed by John Hough – a man responsible for far classier genre efforts such as Twins of Evil (1971), The Legend of Hell House (1973) and Disney’s surprisingly creepy The Watcher in the Woods (1980) – this is a strange, messy, occasionally fascinating Canadian horror oddity that feels as though several slightly different films have been stitched together during a cocaine-fuelled editing session.

Part supernatural horror, part slasher, part police procedural, part teen nightmare movie and part small-town mystery, The Incubus never really settles on what it actually wants to be. And frankly, that’s a large part of its charm - numerous mentions of sperm aside (we’ll get to that)

The film opens in a sleepy Wisconsin town where a series of brutal attacks on young women has the local population understandably a bit rattled. Local teen Tim Galen begins experiencing recurring nightmares involving a mysterious woman being stalked through foggy woods by a hulking monstrous figure. Naturally, nobody initially pays much attention to this because this is an 80s horror film and adults are contractually obligated to dismiss teenagers. However, after one particularly nasty attack leaves a young woman named Mandy hospitalised, Tim starts suspecting his dreams may be premonitions.

Meanwhile, creepy local doctor Sam Cordell (John Cassavetes) begins investigating the increasingly bizarre assaults. Things become even stranger when one of the victims is discovered to have suffered unusual wounds and a ‘tremendous amount of sperm’ inside her. Yes, this film really goes there. Quite what the doctors think they’re dealing with at this stage is anyone’s guess. A sex pest? A demon? The film remains pleasingly vague for quite a while.

As the body count rises, various townsfolk get dragged into the mystery including a nosy local reporter (who looks JUST like Anna Friel). The screenplay also introduces subplot after subplot with reckless enthusiasm before casually abandoning half of them altogether. One particularly bizarre thread involving Cassavetes accidentally killing his first wife appears to wander in from an entirely different film before disappearing almost immediately. Apparently Cassavetes rewrote a lot of the script on set, so this could explain some of this.

Still, despite all this narrative chaos, The Incubus remains oddly watchable throughout. Hough directs the material with genuine atmosphere and there’s an enjoyably grubby small-town feel hanging over the entire thing. The film often looks like one of those dreary early 80s TV thrillers where everyone wears brown jackets and looks permanently exhausted. People spend an awful lot of time wandering around hospitals, police stations and dimly lit homes discussing dreams and sexual trauma in hushed voices while synth music drones ominously in the background.

And then there’s the Incubus itself. For much of the runtime the creature is kept hidden in shadows, which is probably for the best because once we finally get a proper look at it, the thing looks like a monstrous version of E.T.

The film also contains several surprisingly effective individual scenes. One involves a wheelchair-bound girl approaching a bathroom and although she can’t open the door, we can see an assault playing out via a narrow slit under the door. It’s great! Another involving a dog and a barn and a pitchfork is also pretty effective too. There’s also a huge amount of slapping in this film. Honestly, most people in this town seems to solve emotional conflict by smacking one another across the face. Actually, it’s mainly Cassavetes doing it to be fair.

Speaking of Cassavetes, he looks faintly bewildered throughout, as though he’s only just realised what kind of film he agreed to appear in. And his character is a weirdo. The way he intensely stares at the female reporter he has the hots for is quite uncomfortable. As is the relationship he has with his daughter. The first time we see them together, he’s come home from work, walks upstairs and sees her showering through an open bathroom door. Eww. Still, his natural screen presence carries the movie a long way and helps ground some of the sillier material. The supporting cast are solid too, even if many of the characters barely register before vanishing into the overcrowded plot.

The biggest issue with The Incubus is that it never quite commits to any one idea strongly enough. The supernatural horror elements never fully develop, the slasher aspects come and go, the mystery isn’t especially compelling and the dream-premonition angle feels underexplored. Yet somehow the film’s confusion becomes part of its identity. This is the sort of strange VHS-era horror movie you’d stumble across late at night and end up watching purely because it’s just so barmy.

It may not entirely work, but there’s something undeniably entertaining about a film this shamelessly all over the place. The Incubus is untidy, occasionally ridiculous and frequently baffling but never boring. And in the overcrowded world of early 80s horror, that honestly counts for quite a lot. Plus that ending…