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By Dr. Rhonda Baughman | February 25, 2004

The DVD case says: “Collector’s Edition”

Rhonda Baughman says: “The DVD skipped, I had to watch it by chapter selections, and I have no idea why it was released in its original crappy format.”

The DVD case says: “This film is presented in the original aspect ratio in which it was filmed. This film was not photographed in scope, therefore it is not, nor was it ever, available in wide screen format.”

Rhonda Baughman says: “Um, okay. What the case says.”

The DVD case says: “blaxploitation cult classic”

Rhonda Baughman says: “Um, no. I reserve that moniker for films like “Blacula” and “Shaft,” among some others.”

The DVD case says: “legendary film”

Rhonda Baughman says: “Maybe 30 years ago, but this one’s not standing up too well with the test of time.”

The DVD case says: “long-lost, blaxploitation classic”

Rhonda Baughman says: “It should have stayed lost and um, you already said ‘blaxploitation.’ I get it. Really, I do.

The DVD case wants to say: “Die, Reviewer! Die! We have extras on here! Lots of extras! So, die!”

I mean, seriously, this movie just is what it is. A movie that, while I bet rather creative and edgy for its time, is just a little silly and boring. Not to mention, just too long, and I would lay my money down that there are, at least, three dozen films that should have been re-discovered before this one.

Much like any successful flick, the tag line hooks and reels: “Abby doesn’t need a man anymore … The devil is her lover now!” Well then, get naked and fornicate, and for god’s sake, show the viewing audience at home how wicked you are! This movie is so heavy on tease and so not heavy on payoff, that I had to resort to fantasies involving at least three ex-lovers, my current lover and his sister, just to get enough energy to start masturbating. But, by the time the movie had reached the climax (at a discotheque) I was no where near mine, so I had to call in for some, um, back-up.

Abby is Carol “The Mack” Speed and she’s been possessed by a Nigerian sex demon. She shocks her prudish family, minister husband, and conservative friends with her new demon lover booty-calls. I say, who wouldn’t want a little cloven-hoofed fun, if they could get it – but this is just not the case. So, Abby runs around, makes funny noises, spurts out white fizz, changes outfits, mumbles really inane dialogue, and then recovers. I think. William “Blacula” Marshall is the exorcist, so who really knows? Will good prevail? Will evil get its little sweaty palm in for good? Will you care by the time you realize no one is showing any skin?

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