If Satan ever punished language learners in hell, Incubus would be the film playing on loop in the Esperanto section. A fever dream of goat-wrestling, black-eyed succubi, and William Shatner emoting like someone trying to remember if they left the oven on, Incubus is less a movie and more a cosmic dare—one that you lose just by pressing play.
This was the second film ever made in Esperanto. And if this is what Esperanto speakers were hoping would bring world peace, no wonder it hasn’t caught on. Even native speakers reportedly winced through Shatner’s pronunciation, which hovers somewhere between Klingon and someone gargling marbles in a bathtub. It’s not just a bad movie—it’s a linguistic hostage crisis.
Plot? Sure. In the Same Way a Goat Is a Plot Device.
The story is set in the creepily named village of Nomen Tuum (“Your Name” in Latin, because someone must’ve flunked Worldbuilding 101). The place boasts a magic well that makes people pretty, which, as we know, is the number one reason evil would take root anywhere. Succubi hang around the well luring vain tourists to hell like goth sirens running a wellness spa. One of them, Kia (Allyson Ames), grows bored of seducing sinners and decides she wants something a little more pure—someone who still believes in things like love and honor. So naturally, she sets her sights on Marc (William Shatner), a wounded soldier who just showed up with his sister and enough emotional repression to qualify for sainthood.
Marc is the kind of “pure soul” who treats falling in love with a succubus like a boring Tuesday. He insists on marrying Kia before they can do the horizontal tango, which is either admirable or deeply depressing. He also manages to sound like he’s narrating his own audiobook throughout, even during scenes where his sister is going blind or he’s getting punched by a literal demon.
When the forces of evil strike back, the movie enters full-on goat-fight mode. No, really. The titular incubus (played by Milos Milos, whose name is the most exciting thing about him) wrestles Kia after she has a last-minute conversion to the God of Light. The incubus then turns into a goat. And the goat stares at them. A lot. Long enough for you to think, “Is the goat… still acting? Or did they just lose the script and go with it?”
Esperanto, Goats, and William Shatner’s One Facial Expression
Now, to be fair, Incubus was shot by legendary cinematographer Conrad Hall (American Beauty, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid), and there are times where the film does look haunting. Unfortunately, it’s haunting in the way a community theatre version of The Seventh Seal would be if it were directed by a freshman philosophy major who just discovered Nietzsche and hash brownies.
The entire thing is done in Esperanto, which was allegedly to create an “otherworldly atmosphere,” but actually just adds a layer of weird academic guilt to your viewing experience—like you’re watching a cursed Rosetta Stone video with demons and sexual repression.
And let’s talk about Shatner, who spends most of the film looking like he’s waiting for a different director to show up. His “pure-hearted soldier” routine comes across more like a guy who’s been given the wrong script and is just trying to fake it until lunch. His expressions range from “I stepped in gum” to “I’m not sure that was just a fart.” Passion, fear, grief—all delivered with the same staccato rhythm and confused stares that would later define Captain Kirk’s finest log entries.
Final Thoughts: Hail Satan—At Least He Didn’t Watch This
In the end, Incubus is a cinematic curiosity only in the way spontaneous combustion is a curiosity. Fascinating from afar. Absolutely disastrous up close.
It’s one of those films that seems like it could’ve been great in a parallel universe: creepy visuals, a demonic love story, otherworldly atmosphere. But instead of landing in Carnival of Souls territory, it gets stuck somewhere between high school French club film project and avant-garde church propaganda. With goats.
It’s no wonder this film was considered lost for decades. Honestly, I suspect the projectionist buried it himself after waking up screaming in fluent Esperanto.
Rating: 1.5 out of 5 demon goats (and one deeply confused William Shatner)
Don’t say I didn’t warn you. The horror isn’t just on screen—it’s in the subtitles, the syntax, and the soul-sucking silence between every awkward line of dialogue.
