Ah yes, Wishmaster (1997) — the movie that asked, “What if a genie granted your wish, but it sucked?” and then dragged that premise across 90 minutes like a dying slug on hot asphalt. Directed by Robert Kurtzman and “presented” (read: politely tolerated) by Wes Craven, this movie tried to be the next horror franchise starter but instead became the cinematic equivalent of buying a cursed lamp from a yard sale. Let’s dig into this evil opal of mediocrity.
Opening Scene: The Persian Palace of Bad Decisions
We begin in 1127, where a Persian emperor makes the mistake of saying, “Show me wonders.” The Djinn obliges by turning the palace into a low-budget effects reel: skeletons ripping out of people, skin peeling like bad sunburn, and extras running around like they’re late for a Renaissance fair. This is supposed to set the tone, but instead it feels like a SyFy Channel pilot episode that never got picked up.
A sorcerer traps the Djinn in a jewel (the infamous fire opal) because clearly the best way to deal with pure evil is to make it small enough to fit in a pawn shop.
Present Day: Pawn Shops and Bad Luck
Cut to modern-day America, where a drunk crane operator accidentally smashes a crate containing the cursed statue. And just like that, evil is unleashed because someone couldn’t lay off the booze on the job site. OSHA is rolling in its grave.
The jewel makes its way into the hands of Alexandra Amberson (Tammy Lauren), our heroine and owner of the kind of fake movie-job (auction house appraiser) that only exists so she can touch cursed objects between latte breaks.
The Djinn: A Villain With Style But No Chill
Andrew Divoff as the Djinn is honestly the best part of the film. He’s a rubber-faced creep who delivers every line like he just discovered Shakespeare and Monster Energy drinks at the same time. He grants wishes by twisting them into ironic deaths:
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A woman wishes for eternal beauty → turned into a mannequin at Sears.
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A guy wants a million bucks → his mom dies in a plane crash.
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A cop wants proof of guilt → cue a full-on police station shootout.
It’s like Monkey’s Paw meets America’s Funniest Home Videos. The Djinn’s logic is always the same: “What’s the meanest way I can do this while staying vaguely legal?”
The Cameo Parade
The producers clearly knew the script was thinner than a truck stop pancake, so they padded it with horror celebrity cameos:
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Robert Englund (Freddy Krueger) plays an art collector who throws a party so bad it literally kills his guests.
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Tony Todd (Candyman) plays a doorman who wishes for an escape from his boring life and promptly gets turned into hamburger.
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Kane Hodder (Jason Voorhees) shows up just to be turned into a glass door.
These appearances scream, “Please, horror fans, notice us!” But instead of elevating the movie, it feels like watching your favorite metal band awkwardly play a birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese.
Our Heroine: Wishy-Washy at Best
Tammy Lauren’s Alex is the sort of Final Girl who has no idea how she got cast as the lead. Her main contribution to the plot is running from the Djinn, hyperventilating, and having visions of things she doesn’t understand. She isn’t clever, she isn’t resourceful — she’s just kind of… there, like parsley on a plate.
The Djinn needs her to make three wishes so he can unleash his army of rubber-suited cousins, but Alex keeps stalling like she’s stuck in line at Starbucks. At one point she wishes him to shoot himself in the head. Spoiler: he doesn’t die, because he’s immortal. That’s not clever writing; that’s padding.
The Party Scene: Hell Breaks Loose (Literally)
The film’s big set piece takes place at Robert Englund’s fancy art party. Alex is there, the Djinn shows up in his human disguise (Nathaniel Demerest — which sounds less like a villain and more like your uncle’s divorce lawyer), and Beaumont wishes for an “unforgettable party.”
Cue chaos: statues come to life, paintings puke monsters, security guards get shredded like lettuce, and everyone dies in ways that look like the effects team’s demo reel after too much tequila. This is where the movie briefly flirts with being fun, before collapsing back into confusion and bad dialogue.
The Ending: A Sobriety PSA
Finally, the Djinn has Alex cornered. Her sister is trapped in a painting, the world is doomed, yadda yadda. So what does Alex wish for?
That the drunk crane operator at the beginning hadn’t been drinking on the job.
Yep. The entire movie is undone by retroactively turning Mickey the Crane Guy into a responsible employee. Time resets, nobody dies, and the Djinn goes back into his jewel prison, presumably to sulk about OSHA regulations.
So basically, Wishmaster is one big “drink responsibly” ad.
Why It Fails (Besides the Obvious)
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The Premise is Exhausted in Ten Minutes. Evil genie twists wishes — we get it. By the fifth ironic death, you’re begging for someone to just wish for a sandwich.
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The Acting is Soap Opera Tier. Tammy Lauren delivers every line like she’s auditioning for a canceled daytime drama.
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The Djinn Is Too Over-the-Top. Divoff is clearly having fun, but he’s in a different movie than everyone else. His demonic voice sounds like Skeletor doing slam poetry.
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The Cameos Don’t Save It. Horror legends popping up just remind you of better movies you could be watching.
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The Ending Is a Joke. Time-reset endings are lazy. It’s like finishing a book and realizing the last chapter is just the author shrugging.
Dark Humor Nuggets of Trash
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The mannequin death should’ve come with a Macy’s coupon.
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The police station massacre plays like an NRA fever dream.
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The party scene is basically Night at the Museum on bath salts.
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Watching the Djinn flirt is like watching a tax auditor try speed dating.
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The moral of the story? Always hire sober crane operators.
Final Verdict: Be Careful What You Wish For
Wishmaster wanted to be the next Hellraiser, but ended up as a SyFy Original with a bigger effects budget and better cameos. It’s campy, ridiculous, and occasionally entertaining in that “I can’t believe this got made” way. Andrew Divoff is genuinely fun to watch, but everything else is a flaming opal of nonsense.
