Chuck Russell’s Witchboard doesn’t share much in common with Kevin S. Tenney’s cult favorite from 1986 beyond the titular spirit board. Even then, the board in question has been updated to better reflect its moniker, with the standard Ouija board of the original film swapped out for an ornate circular relic with roots in 17th-century French witchcraft. But Russell’s ostensible remake does aim to channel one thing about its source of inspiration: that giddy amusement-park spirit that marked so much ’80s horror schlock.
This Witchboard moves the action from the anonymous California setting of the original to a bustling New Orleans, where a young couple, Emily (Madison Iseman) and up-and-coming star chef Christian (Aaron Dominguez), are in the midst of opening a new bistro in the French Quarter specializing in organic ingredients. While foraging out in the woods one day, they happen upon the spirit board, lying near the just-out-of-view mutilated body of the thief that recently stole it from a museum. Seemingly called toward it by an unseen presence, Emily brings the board home and puts it on display. It doesn’t take a fortune teller to surmise that this will become a very bad omen for our exceedingly cheery protagonists.
Like Tawny Kitaen’s beleaguered Linda from Tenney’s film, Emily gradually becomes possessed by the spirit that inhabits the board. Except here that spirit is no less than the so-called Queen of the Witches, named Naga Soth (Antonia Desplat), who’s introduced in an opening 17th-century-set prologue where she energetically conducts a demonic ritual in the woods.
Pity, then, that Emily’s descent into diabolical madness feels cut from the cloth of your run-of-the-mill possession flick, and that the stable of generic-looking young actors largely lack the quirkiness of the cast that spiced up the original Witchboard’s otherwise routine proceedings. (The one exception is Jamie Campbell Bower, who brings a bit of camp flair to his role as the occultist whom Emily and Christian seek out for help.) And don’t bother looking for any of the intriguing gender politics or homosocial relations that, whether intentional or not, led Tenney’s film to become a focus of Carol J. Clover’s Men, Women, and Chain Saws.
What this version of Witchboard does have is sturdy direction, with Russell’s commitment to crafting an old-school, effects-laden genre thrill ride harkening back to his heyday at the helm of studio tent poles like The Mask, The Scorpion King, and the unfairly maligned and similarly themed Bless the Child. Some of the period action set pieces are spirited in their staging, while the film doesn’t lack for gruesome and elaborate kill sequences, which is almost enough to distract from the screenplay’s patchiness and insipid characterizations.
Since 2001, we've brought you uncompromising, candid takes on the world of film, music, television, video games, theater, and more. Independently owned and operated publications like Slant have been hit hard in recent years, but we’re committed to keeping our content free and accessible—meaning no paywalls or fees.
If you like what we do, please consider subscribing to our Patreon or making a donation.
