If the phrase “Full Moon Features” makes you instinctively reach for aspirin, congratulations: you’ve probably endured at least one of their 90s horror outings. Witchouse (1999), directed by David DeCoteau (credited as “Jack Reed,” because even he didn’t want his real name cursed), is one of those straight-to-video specials that makes you wonder: how can a movie about witches, blood, and ancient curses still feel like detention?
Spoiler: because Witchouse has all the energy of a substitute teacher reading aloud from a badly Xeroxed Necronomicon.
The Setup: A Party No One Wants to Attend
The movie opens in the scenic land of Dunwich, Massachusetts—because of course it does. Horror writers treat Dunwich like Starbucks: there’s one on every corner. Elizabeth, played by Ashley McKinney, invites her “friends” to her mansion for a May Day party. The problem? These friends look like they were rounded up outside a Blockbuster in 1998.
Elizabeth has a secret: she’s the descendant of Lilith LaFey, a witch who got crispy at the stake exactly 300 years ago. Now, Elizabeth plans to resurrect Granny Firestarter by murdering her guests one by one. So basically, it’s Night of the Demons, except filmed with less budget, less gore, and acting so wooden you could whittle it into broomsticks.
The Cast: A Cauldron of Who?
Let’s be clear: nobody here is giving Cate Blanchett’s Hela energy.
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Ariauna Albright plays Lilith, the evil witch. Imagine Elvira, but with none of the charisma and all of the line readings of a goth kid forced to recite Macbeth in English class.
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Ashley McKinney as Elizabeth, the hostess with the mostess (murders). She delivers every line with the gleeful malice of someone who just found out the keg is empty.
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Matt Raftery as Jack, our supposed “hero.” If charisma were currency, this man couldn’t buy a pack of gum.
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Brooke Mueller pops up before her future tabloid fame. She looks confused the entire time, which, honestly, might have been method acting.
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The rest are filler friends: Tony, Scott, Maria, Brad, Bob. Their purpose? Show up, drink, die, repeat.
To call this group “specially selected” for Elizabeth’s ritual is generous. It’s more like she typed “people who won’t be missed” into AOL chatrooms and sent invites.
The Witch: Lilith LaFey, Dollar Store Icon
Ah, Lilith. Supposedly a malevolent witch with the power to return from the grave. In practice? She’s a knockoff Morticia Addams who spends more time monologuing than killing. Her grand resurrection amounts to glowing contact lenses, black lipstick, and dialogue that sounds like it was cut and pasted from a rejected Sabrina the Teenage Witch script.
Instead of terror, Lilith radiates Hot Topic employee energy. You half expect her to stop mid-incantation to offer Elizabeth 20% off incense.
The Plot: More Ritual Than Substance
The story is simple: Elizabeth lures her friends to her mansion to feed them to Lilith. But the execution is so sluggish that you forget there’s supposed to be horror. Characters wander hallways. They bicker. They share backstories no one asked for. Occasionally someone dies, usually in ways that look like the effects budget was $12 and a borrowed fog machine.
Full Moon wanted Night of the Demons but cheaper. What they delivered was more Afternoon of the Mildly Irritated Spirits.
The Deaths: Broom-Cupboard Creativity
Slasher movies live or die (pun intended) by their kills. Unfortunately, Witchouse gives us:
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A few glowing-light zap attacks that look like Windows 95 screen savers.
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A throat slit so fake it resembles a ketchup packet accident.
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Some “scary” demon makeup that wouldn’t win second prize at a middle school Halloween contest.
The scariest thing in the film is the dial-up internet connection I imagined these kids were ignoring at home.
The Atmosphere: Candle Wax and Styrofoam
To its credit, Witchouse tries for gothic atmosphere. The set is a mansion with candles, cobwebs, and ominous staircases. Unfortunately, it’s lit so brightly it looks like a Sears catalog shoot. The “scary” basement might as well have a sign reading “Danger: Cardboard Walls May Collapse.”
The music? Generic synth stabs. You could hum them yourself after hitting random keys on a Casio keyboard.
The Dialogue: Hexed by Bad Writing
Examples of actual dialogue you’ll suffer through:
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“We’re not alone here.” (Congratulations, Sherlock.)
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“Evil never dies—it just waits.” (Probably on hold with customer service.)
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“This is the night of reckoning!” (Or Taco Bell, depending on perspective.)
It’s the kind of script where you can guess the next line before it happens, then hate yourself for being right.
The Director: David DeCoteau (But Not Really)
DeCoteau, using the alias Jack Reed, is infamous for making dozens of low-budget horror flicks where shirtless guys wander around empty houses. Here, he hides behind a pseudonym like a guilty teenager scrawling graffiti. Honestly, can you blame him? If Puppet Master 5 looks like Shakespeare in comparison, you might want to distance yourself too.
The Legacy: A Trilogy No One Asked For
Somehow, this mess spawned Witchouse 2: Blood Coven and Witchouse 3: Demon Fire. Because nothing says “critical flop” like a direct-to-video franchise. Watching the first Witchouse is like eating expired cheese: you hate yourself, but part of you knows you’ll be back to nibble on the sequels when curiosity kills your dignity.
Cult Value: So Bad, It’s…Still Bad
To be fair, Witchouse has a whiff of “so bad it’s good” charm. The acting is laughable, the effects are cheesy, and the whole thing feels like it was filmed in a weekend between LARPing sessions. With enough alcohol, it could pass as a fun midnight movie. But sober? It’s cinematic NyQuil.
Final Verdict
Witchouse (1999) is what happens when you chant “budget horror” three times into a mirror. Wooden acting, half-baked script, bargain-bin effects, and a villainess who should be handing out coupons at Hot Topic instead of summoning demons.
It’s not scary, it’s not gory, and it’s barely entertaining. It’s a séance where the only spirit you’ll raise is boredom.
