Some movies feel like accidents. Others feel like tax write-offs. Witchboard III: The Possession feels like both—an accident you might have in a rental car while doing your taxes drunk. Released straight-to-video in 1995, this Canadian horror film is the unwanted third child of a franchise that wasn’t all that healthy to begin with. The original Witchboard(1986) had its charms—a Ouija board, Tawny Kitaen, some ’80s hairspray fire hazards. The sequel, Witchboard 2: The Devil’s Doorway (1993), had Ami Dolenz, which is frankly enough for most of us. But then, inexplicably, came Witchboard III, a film so bland and confused that you start longing for the sweet release of demonic possession yourself.
Let’s rip the board out of the box.
Ouija Got to Be Kidding Me
Our hero, Brian (David Nerman), is an unemployed broker—already scarier than any demon. He befriends his landlord Francis (Cedric Smith), because that’s what you do when you’re out of work and looking for new ways to ruin your life. Unfortunately, Francis is secretly a demon named Kral. How do we know this? Because the movie tells us, repeatedly, while showing us a man who looks less like Satan and more like your uncle who runs a coin-collecting club.
Kral does the demonic equivalent of identity theft: he traps Brian’s soul via Ouija board and then assumes his identity. Suddenly, “Brian” is home trying to impregnate his wife Julie (Elizabeth Lambert). She, to her credit, notices almost immediately that her husband has gone from “mild-mannered broker” to “horny demon squatter” and begins investigating.
The plot hinges on Julie discovering Francis’s Ouija board and contacting her real husband’s trapped soul. From there, she seeks out Francis’s ex-wife, who just so happens to be the only person who can help her. Because in horror movies, when you’re facing eternal damnation, you always call the ex.
Cast of Characters, or, Why Bother?
David Nerman as Brian/Kral gives a performance that can best be described as “community theater Dracula.” He tries to switch between normal husband and demon overlord, but mostly just looks constipated. Elizabeth Lambert, to her credit, actually tries. She’s the one bright spot, playing Julie as a woman who’s both terrified and exasperated, like she just realized her whole life has been a bad script.
Cedric Smith as Francis/Kral is supposed to be menacing, but he comes off like a retiree who would rather be at Tim Hortons. Donna Sarrasin and Danette MacKay round out the cast as supporting players who appear just long enough to make you wish you were watching literally anything else—say, the Ouija board collecting dust in your closet.
And let’s not forget Cas Anvar as a paramedic. He’s on screen for maybe 30 seconds, but compared to everyone else, he looks like Daniel Day-Lewis method-acting through a papercut.
Montreal, but Make It Hell
Unlike its California-shot predecessors, Witchboard III was filmed in Montreal. And boy, does it look like it. Everything is gray, damp, and slightly depressing, like the film was sponsored by seasonal affective disorder. Director Peter Svatek had a script co-written by Kevin Tenney (the creator of the first two films), but it feels like he only skimmed it between coffee breaks. The pacing lurches like a drunk at Mardi Gras, the scares are nonexistent, and the cinematography looks like it was shot through a dirty aquarium.
Even the special effects—done by the usually reliable KNB EFX Group—are laughably bad here. There are some green screen moments that make public access weather reports look cutting-edge. The demon design is so cheap you half expect to see the zipper in the back. And when souls get trapped in the Ouija board, it looks less like eternal torment and more like Windows 95 screensaver hell.
The “Scares”
What passes for horror in Witchboard III?
-
Possession as personality shift: Brian suddenly acts lusty, moody, and creepy. Julie suspects something’s wrong. Honestly, it sounds less like demonic takeover and more like midlife crisis.
-
Ouija board glow effects: Every time the board activates, the letters light up like a low-budget karaoke machine. Terrifying if you’re afraid of neon.
-
Dream sequences: Julie has nightmares that look like stock footage of fog machines working overtime. You half expect a Bon Jovi video to break out.
-
The grand finale: Julie battles Kral with the help of the ex-wife, but the climax is so muddled you’re not sure if the demon’s being banished or if someone just unplugged the fog machine.
The Sex Problem
This franchise has always had a weird relationship with sex. The first movie made Ouija boards into a kind of foreplay. The second gave us Ami Dolenz in various states of undress, a reward for enduring the plot. Witchboard III tries to follow suit, but it’s so awkwardly handled that it feels like watching your neighbors roleplay demon possession through paper-thin walls. There’s no eroticism, just the lingering dread that everyone involved regrets signing their contracts.
Elizabeth Lambert noted in interviews that the exploitative elements were “tastefully done.” She’s right if by tasteful you mean “shot like a mayonnaise commercial.”
The Verdict
What can you say about Witchboard III: The Possession that hasn’t already been muttered under the breath of a bored Blockbuster clerk in 1996? It’s the cinematic equivalent of reheated leftovers—technically still food, but no one’s excited about it.
The movie wants to be sexy, but it’s awkward. It wants to be scary, but it’s laughable. It wants to continue a franchise, but it’s more like flogging a corpse. Even the demon seems bored, going through the motions of possession like a middle manager on autopilot.
If you’re a completist who must watch every Witchboard film, you’ll find it here: 90 minutes of Canadian Gothic Lite, starring a mannequin of a leading man and a heroine who deserved a better career. If you’re a normal human, stay away. Watch paint dry. Play a real Ouija board. Summon something scarier than this film—like the ghost of your bad financial decisions.
Final Thoughts
Witchboard III: The Possession is the cinematic version of dialing the wrong number and staying on the line for 90 minutes. It’s dull, occasionally embarrassing, and leaves you wondering why you didn’t just hang up sooner.
If the first film was a fun parlor trick, and the second was a guilty-pleasure sequel, then the third is a séance gone wrong where the only spirit that shows up is disappointment.
