Chuck Vincent’s Voices of Desire bills itself as horror, but it feels more like a therapy session filmed in the back room of a lava lamp factory — one where everyone forgot to bring a script. Sandra Peabody (credited as Lydia Cassell, and possibly trying to flee this credit with a pseudonym) plays Anna Reed, a woman who hears voices, joins a cult, gets seduced by ghouls, and… well, that’s about it.
A Plot Made of Vapor and Vaseline
Let’s be clear: this is not so much a plot as it is a mood piece — and that mood is “low-budget ennui with a dash of suggestive heavy breathing.” Anna receives a mysterious phone call in a city phone booth, which somehow possesses her (as rotary phones are known to do). Soon, she’s experiencing strange desires, being drawn to a mansion filled with seductive ghouls, and spiraling into what we’re meant to believe is madness. Or ecstasy. Or Tuesday. It’s hard to tell.
What unfolds is a series of dimly lit encounters edited like a strobe-induced fever dream. It’s a movie that wants to be Carnival of Souls but ends up looking like Sesame Street meets Eyes Wide Shut, if the whole thing was shot on leftover film stock and directed by someone who once watched Rosemary’s Baby… blindfolded.
Sandra Peabody Deserves a Raise and a Stiff Drink
Peabody, best known for Last House on the Left, gives it her best shot, floating through the haze with those wide, bewildered eyes that say, “Yes, I read the script. No, I don’t know what’s happening either.” She alternates between tormented victim and glassy-eyed wanderer, but even she can’t save the film from its own self-indulgence.
Vincent (or “Mark Ubell,” his artsy alias) is clearly experimenting here — but the experiment mostly yields confusion. The editing is a nightmare, the narrative coherence is optional, and the occasional attempts at eroticism are about as alluring as a damp shag carpet.
Ghoulish but Not in a Good Way
The cult in question — which Anna gets involved with — is more laughable than sinister. Their “ghoulish” seduction sequence looks like an off-brand Dark Shadows Halloween party, complete with low-angle lighting and makeup effects that could be wiped off with a wet nap.
The “horror” is limited to echoing voices, slow zooms, and a general sense that the camera doesn’t know where it’s going. The film tries to be spooky, sensual, and surreal, but mostly feels like it’s stuck in a loop of interpretive dance and soft-core indecision.
Pretension by the Gallon
There are black-and-white photo montages. There are voiceovers that sound like bad high school poetry. There’s symbolism that screams “film school final project.” At one point, Anna is “overtaken by a force” — which in this case looks a lot like someone forgot to say “cut.”
Mike White and others have tried to defend Voices of Desire as “arty,” or even “psychedelic.” But this isn’t art — it’s artifice. You can slap a Murnau poster on the wall and name-drop The Blue Angel all you want, but it doesn’t make the rest of the film any less confused, or any more competent.
Not Porn, Not Horror, Not Good
Let’s settle this: Voices of Desire is not porn. It’s also not horror. It’s a tone poem without tone, a genre film without genre. It’s like buying a haunted house ticket and ending up in a mime performance about inner longing.
The sex is implied, vague, and tastefully shot — and yet, somehow, still manages to be neither erotic nor emotional. Even the nudity feels tired, like the film itself has seen too much and just wants to lie down in a warm bath of its own ambiguity.
Final Diagnosis
If you’re into long, slow pans, whispered gibberish, and cults that can’t afford matching robes, then Voices of Desiremight be your jam. But for the rest of us, this is the cinematic equivalent of wandering into a head shop at 3 a.m. after drinking cough syrup and trying to have a meaningful conversation with a lava lamp.
Avoid unless you’re writing a thesis on soft-core supernatural ennui in early ’70s exploitation cinema. Or unless you need something to fall asleep to. Either way, the voices are calling… and they’re telling you to watch something else.
