Baba Yaga, Devil Witch (1973)
The sensual Carroll Baker (Baby Doll 1956, Something Wild 1961) who later became one of the queens of the Euro-Exploitation realm (The Sweet Body of Deborah 1968, Paranoia 1969, So Sweet… So Perverse 1969, A Quiet Place to Kill 1970, The Devil Has Seven Faces 1971) inhabits the role of Baba Yaga.
Based on Guido Grepax’s ‘Valentina,’ a pornographic comic, the film is less about the trope of good vs evil and suggests more the exploration of the heroine’s ‘body’ and the consumption of pleasure and pain. Isabelle De Funés is Valentina, a photographer who falls under the spell of a bewitched camera, and the sapphic enchantress Baba Yaga who desires to possess her. The film is filled with surreal imagery, erotic reveries, and sadomasochistic fetishism. Ely Galeani (A Lizard in a Woman’s Skin 1971) plays the living doll.
Necromancy, aka The Witching (1972)
A little overview of Pamela Franklin’s career is below:
SPOILER ALERT!
Directed by Bert I Gordon, leaves behind gigantism for a moment to delve into satanism. Orson Welles is Mr. Cato, a practitioner of the dark arts and leader of a coven in the small town of Lilith, who desperately wants to bring his dead son back to life. He seeks out Pamela Franklin, who plays Lori Brandon, a girl who has the power to help him raise the dead. When she and her husband, Frank (Michael Ontkean), move to Lilith, guided by the lure of a new career, Lori finds out, much to her horror, the true reason behind Cato’s motives. There are some very atmospheric moments, with the ghost of a little boy that taunts Franklin and some eerie exterior camera work by Winton C. Hoch (The Quiet Man 1952, The Searchers 1956, Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea 1961, Robinson Crusoe on Mars 1964, and including the 1966 TV series Lost In Space). It also stars Lee Purcell as Priscilla.
The chilling conclusion of Necromancy (1972) involves Lori being buried alive during a necromancy ceremony to resurrect Mr. Cato’s dead son. However, this disturbing ending is revealed to be a nightmare, only for Lori to awaken and realize she’s experiencing déjà vu, suggesting that her dream was actually a premonition of events yet to unfold.
A deeper dive…Necromancy Unearthed: Journey Through Lilith’s Dark Heart:
Necromancy (1972), sometimes subtitled A Life for a Life or later re-released as The Witching, is a moody, obscure relic of 1970s supernatural horror cinema, starring Orson Welles and Pamela Franklin amidst a surreal, cult-haunted landscape. Directed by Bert I. Gordon—best known for larger-than-life, effects-driven B-movies such as The Amazing Colossal Man—Necromancy marked a shift for the director, moving from atomic creatures to the eerier, more psychological territory of occult and witchcraft, utilizing slow-burn suspense and surreal visuals courtesy of cinematographer Winton C. Hoch. Hoch, whose previous credits included vivid Technicolor spectacles, here turned his camera toward overcast, shadowy compositions that steep the film in a disquieting pallor, fitting for a story in which nothing is quite what it seems.
The film opens with a tragic jolt: Los Angeles housewife Lori Brandon (Pamela Franklin) wakes in a hospital beset by grief, having just lost her child in a stillbirth. Her husband Frank (Michael Ontkean), seeking a fresh start, accepts a mysterious job in the northern California town of Lilith, yes, that Lilith often associated with witchcraft. It should have been a clue- Lilith’s legend is a fascinating blend of ancient mythology and later folklore, she’s often described as Adam’s first wife who refused to be subservient, leaving Eden to become a figure of defiance and independence. Her story weaves together themes of rebellion, autonomy, and the supernatural, making her both a symbol of female empowerment and a mysterious spirit shrouded in ancient, shadowy myth.
Frank takes the job working for a reclusive and eccentric figure named Mr. Cato (Orson Welles). As the couple makes their way into Lilith, they witness a terrible accident, setting the tone of unease. Stranded, Lori wanders into a foggy field and discovers a gravestone beneath an old tree, triggering a surreal vision of a child’s funeral, a vision that will encircle much of the film’s narrative like a shroud.
Arriving in Lilith, Lori and Frank quickly sense the oddness of the town, which Mr. Cato rules with absolute authority. Upon settling in, Lori and Frank are hosted at a dinner by their odd, imperious new boss Cato, who hints at the supernatural undertones of Frank’s new assignment and gifts Lori a grimoire. The town, Lillth, is ringed by youthful, attractive inhabitants, all seemingly in thrall to Cato, and all apparently bound together by an occult legacy.
Priscilla (Lee Purcell), one of Cato’s alluring followers, alludes to Cato’s lost son, Timothy, and Cato soon reveals his desire to conquer death itself, through necromancy, the forbidden art of raising the dead. He believes Lori holds the key to this ancient power. Lori, born with a caul (en caul), has psychic gifts suited for the task of bringing Timothy back to life, a point emphasized in a flashback showing Lori reviving a drowned girl by will alone.
The house Lori and Frank moved into formerly belonged to Jennie (Barbara Peckinpaugh), whom they saw die in the car accident, further deepening the mystery and menace.
Lori grows increasingly agitated by visions, whispered secrets, and Cato’s omnipresent influence. Frank drifts away, both emotionally and physically, as Lori is drawn into the coven’s grasp. She resists an “initiation” ritual held at a party that morphs into a ceremonial ordeal, amplifying the film’s dreamlike, quasi-psychedelic tone. After sighting the ghostly Timothy, Lori is lured into her basement, where she is attacked by rats—one of several harrowing, hallucinatory sequences.
The plot tightens as town conspirators Dr. Jay (Harvey Jason) and Priscilla reveal Lori’s role as a sacrificial substitute for Timothy. A frantic succession of events follows: Lori seeks out her husband, only to learn from the treacherous Nancy (Sue Bernard) that Frank has left her, when in fact he is entangled with Nancy herself. Priscilla, expressing regret, promises Lori an escape, but is found drowned before she can act. The narrative twists further as Lori is subjected to more and more frightening visions. Lori is then confronted with the truth: the cult plans a necromancy ritual, using her as a “life for a life” to bring back Timothy. In the film’s climax, Lori stumbles into a midnight necromantic ritual at Timothy’s grave, where the cult prepares to bury her alive to resurrect the boy.
In a nightmarish sequence, she is buried alive in claustrophobic intensity, only to suddenly awaken, as if from a dream, in her car. Frank reassures her, but she is seized by a haunting sense of déjà vu; the film closes on the suggestion that her “nightmare” is either a premonition or an endless cycle of fate. Gordon’s cyclical, reality-blurring twist is the film’s closing note, of trauma never quite resolved.
Orson Welles’s performance is simultaneously grandiose—of course, what you would expect from the actor—and deeply weary, at times mumbling incantations. Reviews often note his interpretation of the role as both compelling and somewhat disengaged. Still, the character might have devolved into cartoonish excess in other hands.
Pamela Franklin, familiar to genre fans for The Legend of Hell House, And Soon the Darkness, and Satan’s School for Girls, brings Lori with a haunting vulnerability that lends the picture emotional weight and cohesion during the wilder moments.
Franklin centers the film with a sense of psychological fragility and intensity, a trademark she mastered with delicacy yet with a powerful presence. Pamela Franklin always radiates an exquisite tension between tender fragility and burning intensity—her performances feel simultaneously nuanced and unyielding, always captivating with hauntingly poetic balance.
Michael Ontkean, known for his role in the 1970s cop show The Rookies, is effective enough as Frank, though his character is more functional than memorable.
At the time of its release, Necromancy received predominantly poor reviews, cited for its confusing plot, lack of tension, and what some critics saw as unfocused direction and performances. Some, like myself, appreciate its atmospheric production design. Perhaps it carries that unmistakable 1970s made-for-TV movie vibe popular at the time with its low-key, a touch quirky, and charmingly creepy, despite its budgetary restraints, not to mention the enigmatic presence of Welles and the mesmerizing lure of Franklin. Later re-releases and cult viewings brought renewed interest, especially for the film’s moody, uncanny aesthetic and its portrait of occult paranoia. Critical reception at the time noted the film’s plot holes and sense of narrative drift, but some of us appreciate its technical polish and solid production values given its low budget.
Later, Necromancy achieved a degree of cult admiration for its oddness, brooding atmosphere, and the sheer curiosity of seeing Welles and Franklin together in the fog-bound, ritual-haunted town of Lilith. In one significant reissue, Necromancy was retitled The Witching and expanded to include extra nudity and rituals, a sign of both exploitation film marketing and changing tastes in 1980s horror. In more recent decades, its psychedelic strangeness and uncanny mood have led to reconsideration within lists of top occult horror films.
Ultimately, Necromancy remains a minor artifact of ‘70s horror, a phantasmagoric, deeply flawed, yet visually memorable tale of loss, occult obsession, and the inescapable pull of the past, haunted by the lingering presence of its stars and the ghost of horror cinema’s own changing ambitions that the 1970s ushered in.
#10 Down, just 140 to go!-Your EverLovin’ Joey formally & affectionately known as MonsterGirl
The French actress Haydée Politoff during the filming of the movie El gran amor del Conte Dracula’, directed by Javier Aguirre, 1972, Madrid, Spain. (Photo by Gianni Ferrari/Cover/Getty Images).
