During the interview with director Roberta Findlay that is included on Media Blasters' dvd of her 1986 demonic possession opus, she confesses that she hates horror films, singling out the Friday the 13th series as indicative of the kind of horror film she dislikes and even dissing George Romero in her comments. Bear in mind that this is the woman who directed the infamous (and just as sleazy) motion picture "Snuff", so I found her remarks amusing. It's like hearing Arnold Schwarzenegger complain about the gun violence in Clint Eastwood's movies.

She also directed "Tenement", which I reviewed for the site a few weeks ago (review here) and actually liked quite a bit, so I was looking forward to watching this film when it arrived in the mail. I was hoping this movie would deliver the goods as well as "Tenement" had.

The story begins with the appearance of a sexually ambiguous figure (you think this person may be a man, but there's something just plain wrong about his appearance) attacking a woman in a bordello, with the kind of gory results I have now come to expect from Ms. Findlay's movies (there's one puncture wound in particular that reminded me quite a bit of Wes Craven's "Last House on the Left"). Before we can really mull over the significance of this killing, we are introduced to Jennifer, who has just moved into a new place with her husband, and while going through some things left behind by the previous tenant they find a box containing a wooden hand.

The hand has the power to communicate with the world beyond, sort of like a ouija board -- a feather quill is held by the hand, and it moves across a pad of paper writing messages from ghosts. One of these ghosts is the spirit of a murdered man, and this spirit possesses Jennifer so that she can investigate and avenge his killing.

There are some seriously deranged sequences in the film, one of my favorites being a moment in which a man repeatedly stabs his own arm, thinking that he's attacking a pair of particularly fake-looking rubber creatures that have materialized from out of nowhere. In fact, it's the film's demented glee that won me over much more so than its storytelling.

In the interview I mentioned at the start of the review, Findlay says that the only horror film she ever liked was Roman Polanski's film version of "Rosemary's Baby", and that this film was her attempt to tell a story in the tradition of that classic chiller. And if that's the case, then I have to say Findlay did not clear the bar she set for herself. The power of "Rosemary's Baby" lies in how matter-of-fact the horror is presented, how believable and tangible the supernatural events are. There is no point during "The Oracle" that you believe that its tale could happen.

But that's not to say it's no fun -- there are some terrific gore sequences (in addition to the moments mentioned above, there's also a moment when a character gets pelted in the face with Toxic waste that is a lot of fun) and just enough style to keep you watching from beginning to end.

In addition to the interview with Findlay, she also contributes a commentary track to the film, fleshing out in more detail some of the stories she relates during her interview, including a repeat of her musings about Jack Daniels that were on the "Tenement" commentary (if nothing else, she seems bound and determined that every filmmaker in America get their hands on a complimentary case of Tennessee's pride and joy). She also betrays how square her thinking is/was when she describes how she developed the villain (the sexually ambiguous character) as a lesbian, since the role was originally written for a man (Pam La Testa, the actress who plays the villain, was cast when she tagged along with her boyfriend while he auditioned for the role -- a cautionary tale to all you actors).

A trailer for the film, as well as trailers for other Shriek Show releases, round out the extras. I have to say, considering how much the director hates the genre, the film is actually pretty enjoyable. Just don't expect to use your brain much while you're watching.