There are some movies that come from the dark corners of cinema, where logic is abandoned, and only the bizarre remains. Alucarda, directed by Juan López Moctezuma, is one such film. Released in 1977, this Mexican horror flick is infamous for its absurdity, which borders on the laughable. Despite the film’s best efforts to be a disturbing piece of horror, it comes off as an unintentionally hilarious jumble of poorly executed gore, confusing plotlines, and uninspired performances. At its heart, Alucarda is a muddled mess, desperately trying to be an intense cult classic, but instead landing somewhere between a bad acid trip and a ridiculous fever dream.
Let’s start with the plot, or rather, the nonexistent plot. Alucarda is essentially a hot mess of themes—possession, Satanism, exorcism, telekinesis, and even incest—but none of them are developed in any meaningful way. It’s a film that leaves you constantly asking yourself, “Wait, what the hell is going on?”
The film introduces us to Alucarda (played by Tina Romero), a young woman living in a convent. For reasons that are never clearly explained, she becomes possessed by a demonic force, which may or may not be connected to the tragic death of her mother. Alucarda soon befriends Justine (Susana Kamini), a fellow orphan, and together they get into all sorts of satanic mischief, including blood rituals, sexual orgies, and generally being terrible human beings. And all of this happens in about 15 minutes of screen time, giving you just enough time to wonder if you’ve accidentally skipped a few chapters in the plot. Before you know it, people are dying, everyone’s screaming, and the narrative’s gone off the rails faster than you can say “demonic possession.”
And let’s not even talk about the pacing. You’d think a movie involving demonic possession, Satanic rituals, and exorcisms would be at least somewhat thrilling, but instead, we get a series of slow-moving scenes that drag on for what feels like an eternity. Characters frequently stand around looking constipated while random flashes of incoherent images are thrown at the audience. It’s as if the film’s director was trying to outdo The Exorcist by adding more shock value, but instead, he ended up creating a poor man’s version of it. Every few minutes, the camera zooms in on someone’s face as they scream in agony or pleasure, and you’re left wondering if you missed something important while you were blinking.
The soundtrack is another one of the film’s major issues. Instead of contributing to the atmosphere, the music feels jarring and often out of place. There are moments when you can practically hear the composer scratching his head, trying to figure out what tone to go for. It’s as if the film could never decide whether it wanted to be a serious occult horror film or a campy, over-the-top exploitation piece. The result is a cacophony of synthesizers, disjointed melodies, and what sounds like an attempt to be “edgy,” but only makes you want to throw your hands up in frustration.
The performances are equally atrocious. Tina Romero, as Alucarda, gives a performance that can only be described as “over-the-top” in the worst way possible. She spends much of the film screeching, flailing, and giving blank stares at the camera. The constant screaming quickly grows tiresome and doesn’t evoke any sympathy for her character. Susana Kamini, playing Justine, fares no better, offering a wooden performance that makes you question why she’s even in the movie at all. Her character is simply a passive participant in Alucarda’s madness, offering little more than blank expressions and wide-eyed shock as things spiral out of control.
The supporting cast doesn’t fare much better. Characters are introduced and killed off in a manner that feels almost comical, and none of them ever make an impression. The villains, particularly Father Lazaro (David Silva), are laughable in their ineptitude. They wander aimlessly through the film, trying to act menacing, but instead come across as bumbling idiots who can’t keep track of the movie’s erratic tone. It’s a film populated by characters who barely have any depth, making it hard to care when they’re gruesomely slaughtered.
Let’s talk about the gore and violence for a moment. Alucarda was clearly aiming for the shock factor with its graphic violence and disturbing imagery, but instead of being shocking, it ends up being laughable. The effects are low-budget and poorly executed, which makes even the most violent scenes feel like something you’d see in a cheesy 1970s grindhouse film. Blood splashes everywhere, people are impaled with random objects, and, of course, there’s the requisite possession vomit. The whole thing is so absurdly over-the-top that it feels more like a parody than a serious horror film.
But perhaps the biggest crime Alucarda commits is its inability to commit to any one tone. It can’t decide whether it’s trying to be a serious, atmospheric horror movie or a sleazy, campy exploitation flick. It lurches between the two, but never finds a balance. It’s as if the director was hoping to make something like The Exorcist but instead ended up with something closer to a bad 70s porno mixed with a low-budget slasher. The film’s tone is inconsistent, and as a result, it never quite lands on the level of horror it aspires to reach. Instead, it just becomes a confusing jumble of imagery, music, and acting that leaves the audience exhausted and bewildered.
Even the attempts at thematic depth fall flat. Alucarda seems to want to explore themes of repression, guilt, and sexual liberation, but it does so in such a clumsy and heavy-handed manner that you never feel like the film is saying anything meaningful. The constant references to sexual desire, religious iconography, and demonic possession feel like they’re simply there for shock value, without any deeper exploration or philosophical insight. The film’s attempt to blend these elements together results in a convoluted mess that feels more exploitative than anything else.
In the end, Alucarda doesn’t deliver what it promises. It’s not a scary movie, nor is it a fun, campy one. It’s just a frustrating exercise in excess, throwing everything at the wall to see what sticks—and most of it doesn’t. It’s a film that’s trying so hard to shock and disturb you, but it ends up doing the opposite: making you laugh, making you cringe, and making you regret watching it in the first place. If you’re looking for a genuinely unsettling film about demonic possession, look elsewhere. Alucarda is a chaotic, incoherent mess that ultimately fails to make an impact in any meaningful way.
