directed by jeffrey obrow & stephen carpenter
jeff obrow productions/film ventures international
Not at all credible, yet oddly captivating, this barely known film is an overlooked gem. Hmm, maybe that’s the work of fake Aztec deity Destacatyl, the enslaving god whose power gives this film its name, and apparently will kill whomever tries to control it. This, despite inhabiting a statuette only a few inches tall which vaguely resembles a Mrs. Butterworth (or Aunt Jemima) figurine. Seriously, though, this picture is actually pretty good. Sometimes, just the fact that the cast and crew believe in their creation can be enough, and the actors here are fully invested despite some of the production’s shortcomings. Allegedly released theatrically, distributed straight to video, I can only imagine that this movie never found a larger audience because it lacks for some important touchstones of its era. No nudity, not much in the way of gore, no slasher signifiers, no rockin’ soundtrack … it was doomed to obscurity, but it didn’t really deserve that fate.
why did i watch this movie?
With a nondescript name and a synopsis about possession via a cursed ancient totem or some such, I just HAD to know more.
should you watch this movie?
Well, do you have any better ideas?
highlight and low point
The storyline here revolves around a small-town newspaper with somewhat peculiar standards, and includes breathless dialogue such as, “You know, I remember a time when Sandy McKennah woulda jumped at a story like this.” The story, mind you, involves an unstable supernatural entity with inscrutable requirements for worship and a penchant for trashing rooms, not to mention multivarious physical effects on his or her presumptive adherents – but it’s no less believable than the high dudgeon expressed by Ms. McKennah whenever her journalistic standards are threatened by the suggestion that The Power is real.
This picture straight from the Brazilian scrapheap is almost completely incoherent. With less than 15 minutes left, the chief of police exclaims – and not for the first time – “but none of this makes any sense!” He is correct. “Satanic Attraction” rivals 
Can I call this a disappointment if I watched it thinking it would be a scuzzy, nothing exploitation slasher with paper-thin intent and slapdash execution, but instead discovered a well-crafted picture of surprising depth and real pathos made with a skillful hand? Don’t answer that, it’s a rhetorical question. But despite a number of moments that could have turned this flick into a groaner, the poignant portrayal of the title character proves redemptive. Obviously inspired by the Son of Sam killings, with a handful of details provided by other notorious murder sprees, this film’s account of title psychopath Frank’s travails leavens its less credible portions with an intermittent awareness of his humanity. (How self-aware Frank is, however, remains an open question.) Lead actor and co-writer Joe Spinell’s creation is disturbingly credible, and in context, the more fantastic notions are not hindered by their implausibility.
Featured in this astounding straight-to-video accomplishment: Blatant lip-synching, awesomely generic hard rock, a mustachioed dude in a ZZ Top “Eliminator” raglan sleeve shirt, a guy in a gorilla mask breakdancing, a station named “MVTV,” chicks doing aerobics very intensely, multiple Jacuzzi scenes and one regular bathtub scene, a villain that’s a budget Mike Reno of Loverboy, a song (and character) called “
Really, though, it may have been fate: Over the opening shot of recording studio gear, the first words spoken in this picture are, “‘K, Billy, time to rock and roll – here we go.”
Wow, to say this is not what I was expecting from this movie might be the understatement of the year, at least in terms of this blog and its content. And while you’d think it would be hard for a horror flick to go wrong with demonic possession, this one manages to do so, repeatedly. No, it’s not without its charms – it’s so relentlessly absurd that it’s actually quite enjoyable, though presumably not as intentioned. Terminally silly, with a wafer-thin plot, Wikipedia claims this movie was granted a “special jury prize” by a Paris film festival, which as near as I can tell appears to be some completely fabricated bullshit. I will grant that the solution/cure for the demonic possession in this story is rather original. 
I’m going to reference it again, so let’s just go ahead with a shout-out to Hanna-Barbera: They knew what they were doing when they produced Scooby-Doo, Where Are You? You see, when viewing productions such as this somewhat lethargic attempt at a murder mystery, tropes commonplace to those cartoons continually arise. Here, dashes of occult nonsense and some bitchin’ early ’80s Southern Cal touches are added to the template. A scare or two possibly may be found somewhere in this tale of (ominous pause) madness, but you’ll most likely be too busy laughing at some of the affectations – or more probably starting to doze off as the plot chugs along repetitiously. It could have worked, I suppose, but there just isn’t a whole lot to work with, to its detriment. Oh – hackneyed freeze-frame “surprise” at the ending. Woo-hoo.
Isn’t it always rewarding to come across a production in which one literally can see the wires attached to objects in special FX shots? And shouldn’t more remakes or reboots or whatever you want to call them be handled like last year’s 
and the nefarious nature of Darminah, the diabolical agent of a housekeeper, is delightfully broadly drawn. 
Oh, and the soundtrack is terrific, blending elements of musique concrète with the principles of free jazz at times; along with the sounds of haunting and weather events and so forth, it’s a treat. Continuity is sometimes an issue: for instance, when the undead boyfriend Herman first reappears, he has fangs,
but in his later return he does not, although at that point he begins to act vampiric. As alluded, the FX can be facile.
SPACE RATS From Outer Space 