A demon-rape flick of unusually high technical ineptitude, even for this egregious genre, which features Canada doubling as California and Cassavetes as the doctor trying to solve the problem of just what is doing all those shower-curtain murders and inflicting such massive internal injuries on the female victims. We are indebted to The Monthly Film Bulletin for their scholarly note pointing out that the movie chickens out of the central image of Ray Russell's novel - the huge size of the incubus' phallus - and it's a castration that reaches out into the whole film. Cassavetes' presence inevitably raises echoes from Rosemary's Baby, but his baleful looks are miscast on the side of the angels. The only decent hope is that this nonsense made him enough money for one of his own independent films. CPea.