After a luxuriant Bosch credit sequence, we plunge into thirty minutes of bewildering but entertaining events that revolve around a dissolving dad, a satanic register, a protective amulet, a Mansonesque coven of dead-eyed converts led by a reincarnated witch, plus an expert in the fields of ESP and demonology. When the explanations begin (mainly a flashback to 17th century ancestors), things become heavy-handed, revealing the ragged direction, a dire script, and performances which range from the bemused (Albert) to the awful (Borgnine). Fuest butters on the special effects, which culminate in a tediously extended final splurge when almost the whole cast dissolves into a puddle of green slime.