A rich patriarch condemns his backstabbing family on his deathbed. After the reading of the will, the family members go off and shag like minxes. Then one of the family members gets bludgeoned to death by a mace. There is more revelry as his relatives go out and continue to shag like minxes. A diary that contains a detailed history of the family’s sordid past (including an ancestor who dabbled in “gene manipulation”) may hold the secret to the killer’s identity. That is, if the relatives can stop shagging like minxes long enough to pay attention.
Sex of the Witch is kind of like a Reading of the Will movie from the ’30 reimagined as a lurid Euro-thriller of the ‘70s. It’s short on plot and filled with scenes of sleaze and sex. That sounds like a promising idea, but most of the sexual encounters are brief or low on nudity. Still, they are rather plentiful, which helps keep you watching. A swinging orgy at a club while an acid rock combo sings “Yes, I Know” is among the highlights. My favorite scene though was when I Spit on Your Grave’s Camille Keaton was taken by force by a dude brandishing deadly silver fingernails.
Keaton isn’t the main character, but she gives the best performance as one of the many horny relatives. Her haunted eyes and creamy skin make her stand out in a cast full of Italian sexpots. You’ll wish she had more screen time as she is far and away the most memorable presence in the film.
The title is slightly misleading, but it sort of makes sense if you stick around long enough. Likewise, the reveal of the killer is farfetched, although you might be entertained by it if you can get yourself on the movie’s oddball frequency. It’s so slow moving and confusing that I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t make it that far. I will say the denouement goes on far too long as all the shots of people looking perplexed and/or randomly laughing hysterically will probably leave you in the same boat.
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