This wreck could best be summarised as a really bad episode of Night Gallery, endlessly protracted. The makers appear to have dabbled in cinema in much the same way that their characters dabble in the occult: ineptly, and with horrendous results. Christopher Lee has been enlisted to give a pre-credits pep talk, but surely he couldn't have seen what follows: a cut-rate catalogue of amateur acting, botched continuity, mismatched footage, and all-embracing incompetence. Purporting to portray a paralysis victim's psychically-conjured monster, the film-makers feel obliged to spike the mess with derivative, adolescent 'humour' and a dose of prurient sex. Not even the aesthetic of trash could be used to defend this saddening spectacle.