A Revenge Fantasy Nobody Asked For
There’s bad taste, and then there’s Necromancer. Released in 1988 and directed by Dusty Nelson—whose name sounds like a rejected Marlboro mascot—this supernatural sleaze-fest is what happens when a serious subject (sexual assault) gets fed through the wringer of low-budget exploitation filmmaking and spat out as something that’s neither scary, nor empowering, nor even entertaining.
At its heart, Necromancer is a rape-revenge film with a supernatural twist. But unlike I Spit on Your Grave, which at least had the nerve to confront audiences with raw brutality, this film opts for cheap demons, tacky effects, and a script that reads like it was scribbled on a Denny’s placemat at 3 a.m. The result? A movie that’s offensive not because it’s shocking, but because it’s so insultingly bad.
Plot: Rape, Regret, and Random Demons
The story is as simple as it is lazy. Julie Johnson (Elizabeth Kaitan, billed as “Elizabeth Cayton” for reasons that are probably legal) is a college student who has the misfortune of crossing paths with three grade-A creeps—Paul, Carl, and Allan—who break into their professor’s office to steal test answers. When Julie catches them, they respond in the most despicable way possible: they assault her.
From here, the movie could have gone two directions: grim revenge realism or cathartic exploitation payback. Instead, it takes a third option: Julie’s friend finds a newspaper ad that literally says “REVENGE” (subtlety is not this film’s strong suit). That leads them to a necromancer—played with all the menace of a bored babysitter—who summons a demon to do Julie’s dirty work.
From here, the film becomes a limp procession of half-baked kills, supernatural mumbo-jumbo, and a whole lot of sitting around while everyone waits for the runtime to crawl to 85 minutes.
Elizabeth Kaitan: Final Girl by Default
Elizabeth Kaitan, who horror fans might remember from Silent Night, Deadly Night Part 2 or Friday the 13th Part VII, plays Julie with all the conviction of someone who knows the paycheck won’t cover her rent. She screams, she cries, she pouts, and eventually she gets her revenge—though not so much by her own hand as through the necromancer’s clumsy demon magic.
Kaitan isn’t bad, exactly; she’s just stranded in a film that mistakes her victimhood for plot development. Watching her trudge through Necromancer is like watching a talented actress trapped in cinematic quicksand, sinking deeper with every line of dialogue.
The Villains: Three Stooges, But Worse
Our trio of attackers—Paul, Carl, and Allan—are supposed to be terrifying. Instead, they come off like the frat brothers who never got into a frat. They leer, they threaten, they smirk, and they radiate all the menace of three guys arguing over beer money at a bowling alley.
The rape scene is, predictably, exploitative and ugly, but even then it’s undercut by how cartoonishly sleazy the men are. They’re not characters; they’re caricatures, written by someone who thought “bad guys” only needed two traits: sunglasses and misogyny. When the necromancer’s revenge finally hits them, it’s less cathartic than it is confusing—because by that point you’ve stopped caring whether anyone in this film lives or dies.
The Necromancer: Bargain-Bin Witchcraft
When Julie and her friend find the newspaper ad for “revenge,” they might as well have been dialing 1-800-HEX-YOU. They end up at the house of a necromancer (played by Lois Masten), who looks less like a terrifying occult figure and more like your Aunt Linda trying out for community theater. She mumbles spells, waves her arms vaguely, and conjures a demon that looks like it crawled out of a Halloween store clearance bin.
This is the supernatural hook the movie hangs its hat on, but the execution is laughable. Every time the demon appears, the budget cries. Think rubber masks, smoke machines, and camera tricks that wouldn’t scare a toddler at a pumpkin patch. The revenge promised is so sloppy and random that it feels like the film forgot who wronged Julie in the first place.
Russ Tamblyn: Yes, That Russ Tamblyn
For reasons that can only be chalked up to contractual blackmail, Russ Tamblyn—yes, Riff from West Side Story and the father of Amber Tamblyn—wanders through this movie as Professor Charles DeLonge. His role is barely connected to the plot, but his presence is like spotting a bald eagle trapped in a Chuck E. Cheese ball pit: majestic once, but now deeply out of place.
Tamblyn gives the performance of a man who realizes his agent hates him. He looks tired, disinterested, and vaguely ashamed, and honestly, who can blame him?
Effects: Cheap, Cheaper, Cheapest
The gore is minimal, the demon effects are laughable, and the cinematography looks like it was filmed through a dirty aquarium. There are moments where you wonder if the VHS tape is warped, but no—it just looked that bad in theaters too.
The soundtrack is equally atrocious. Songs like “Killer Love” and “Call of the Wild” play over montages as if this were an after-school special about heavy petting. The score itself is generic synth padding that sounds like it was composed in 15 minutes with a Casio keyboard left in “spooky mode.”
Tone-Deaf and Tasteless
The real crime of Necromancer isn’t that it’s sleazy—it’s that it’s boring. Exploitation horror can get away with tastelessness if it delivers shocks, scares, or sheer outrageous spectacle. Necromancer delivers none of the above. It takes a horrifying subject and does nothing with it except pad out the runtime with filler scenes and bargain-basement occult gimmicks.
Julie never gets true agency, the villains never get satisfying comeuppance, and the supernatural angle is so half-baked it might as well have been microwaved. By the end, the only revenge is on the audience, who just lost 90 minutes they’ll never get back.
Cult Film or Cult Trash?
In recent years, Necromancer has been resurrected on Blu-ray by Vinegar Syndrome, proving that even the worst films eventually get worshipped by cult collectors. Sure, it has a lurid VHS cover and Elizabeth Kaitan’s name on the box, but don’t confuse “cult” with “good.” This is the kind of movie you show at a midnight party only to clear the room.
Final Verdict
Necromancer is the cinematic equivalent of a prank phone call: juvenile, unfunny, and over far too late. It’s a revenge horror film with no teeth, a supernatural horror film with no scares, and a Russ Tamblyn performance with no dignity.
If you’re curious, go ahead and watch it—but don’t say you weren’t warned. You’ll find more horror and catharsis in a rerun of Unsolved Mysteries.
