If you’ve ever wondered what The Exorcist would look like if it were remade on a shoestring budget with an infusion of blaxploitation and questionable theology, then Abby (1974) is the film for you. Directed by William Girdler and featuring a script so convoluted it would make the most seasoned horror fans roll their eyes, Abby is a bizarre, unintentional comedy that takes itself so seriously, it somehow becomes an endless parade of unintentionally hilarious moments.
Set in Louisville, Kentucky, the film follows Abby Williams (Carol Speed), a woman who becomes possessed by a Yoruba sex spirit called Eshu, which, as the film’s opening lecture by Dr. Garrett Williams (William Marshall) explains, is a trickster deity associated with chaos and whirlwinds. The plot kicks off when Dr. Williams, while on an archaeological dig in Nigeria, uncovers a small puzzle box and—surprise!—unleashes a spirit that travels across the ocean to wreak havoc on Abby’s life. From there, things quickly spiral into ridiculousness as Abby’s behavior becomes erratic and increasingly violent. Unfortunately, instead of terrifying, Abby’s descent into possession feels like watching someone slowly drown in a sea of poorly executed horror clichés.
The film’s most significant crime is its total lack of cohesion between the mythology it attempts to present and the lackluster execution of those ideas. The possession is tied to Eshu, an African deity that the film only skims the surface of, leaving the viewer more perplexed than enlightened. The film’s use of Yoruba religion is, at best, superficial, and at worst, an uninformed attempt to cash in on the success of The Exorcist, while offering nothing remotely respectful or insightful about the culture it’s drawing from. There’s no real explanation for how or why the spirit of Eshu crosses continents—one moment, Abby’s just a regular woman, and the next, she’s throwing people across rooms and speaking in tongues. The film fails to explain even the basic mechanics of the spirit’s possession, which makes the entire experience feel more like a badly executed afterthought than a carefully planned narrative.
Carol Speed, as Abby, gives a performance that would be more at home in a melodrama than a supernatural horror film. Her portrayal of possession is a mix of over-the-top gestures and an odd selection of facial contortions that might be better suited for a comedy sketch rather than a chilling transformation. Instead of invoking fear, her behavior—whether it’s talking in a demonic voice or flailing about—elicits more giggles than gasps. This isn’t helped by the fact that the dialogue and pacing do not allow for any subtlety. At one point, Abby is described as “a woman possessed,” but the only thing that seems possessed here is the script itself—completely devoid of logic or structure.
William Marshall, as the Bishop Garret Williams, is probably the only actor who appears to understand the absurdity of the film. His gravitas, while certainly better than Speed’s, can only carry the film so far, especially as the plot becomes more convoluted. But even Marshall can’t save Abby from itself. His lines, delivered with the sincerity of a man hoping for a paycheck, seem like they belong in a different film—one with a script that doesn’t expect its audience to take everything at face value.
The film’s resolution is where things reach truly farcical heights. After an hour and change of spiraling chaos, the film throws in a theological twist that feels like a desperate last-minute attempt to provide depth to an otherwise hollow narrative. At one point, Dr. Garrett Williams deduces that the spirit inside Abby is not even Eshu, but rather a “pathetic Eshu wannabe” (seriously), and yet, this revelation is so poorly handled that it lands with a thud, rather than any sort of revelation or catharsis.
As for the supernatural elements—well, let’s just say they don’t hold up to the high standards set by classics like The Exorcist. The possession scenes are poorly staged, and the special effects are laughably dated. The spirit’s physical manifestations, whether it’s a gust of wind or Abby levitating slightly off the ground, are far more laughable than frightening. And the sound design? An unholy mix of dramatic music and shrill screams that are more grating than atmospheric.
Abby also deserves a mention for its shameless attempt to cash in on The Exorcist craze—right down to the basic premise of a woman being overtaken by an otherworldly force. The comparison is impossible to ignore, and frankly, Abby is so derivative that it feels like an off-brand knockoff trying to sell itself with the same shiny wrapping as a far superior product. Unfortunately, the package is empty, and the film fails to evoke anything close to the dread and complexity of The Exorcist. Instead, it wallows in its own ridiculousness, as if daring the audience to take it seriously.
It’s worth mentioning that Abby did achieve a certain level of financial success, grossing $4 million in a month despite its obvious flaws. However, its success is more an indication of the time and place in which it was released—the 1970s, when horror films were rife with attempts to exploit every angle of the genre, including supernatural possession. For all its success, though, Abby is not a film that will leave you thinking long after the credits roll. It will, however, leave you with a lingering sense of bafflement and, perhaps, a few chuckles at its sheer incompetence.
In conclusion, Abby is an exercise in how not to make a possession film. It takes a promising premise, squanders it with bad acting, incoherent plot twists, and unconvincing special effects, and wraps it all up with a theology lesson that falls flat. The result is a film that’s more likely to become a cult curiosity for fans of bad cinema than a genuine horror classic. And that’s a shame, because with a little more effort and a better script, Abby could have been something more than just another laughable attempt to cash in on a supernatural craze.
