Daughters of Satan (1972)
“Daughters of Satan” does not, a good movie make. It would, however, be suitable as a drinking game.
Here’s how it works, everyone takes a shot of tequila every time a very young, very handsome James Robertson (Tom Selleck) looks incredulous at the idea that the cheesy centuries old Spanish painting he purchases at a Philippino antique shop is capable of coming to demonic life.
Or…just take a shot every time this 1972 film cues up the 70s style porny muzak.
Either way, there’s a guarantee of drunkenness and that by the end of the film one would be too numb to care that this film makes no sense whatsoever.
“Daughters” starts out with some random intro that seems just like an overzealous urge to show some nudity. As a woman hangs sort of upside down, she is whipped and, very fakely swiped at with a dagger by chanting and overly maniacal Kitty Duarte (Tani Guthrie) dressed in purple spandex and flanked by a following of chanting onlookers and assumed followers.
The scene does little than to evoke the idea that a cult of some sort exists somewhere for some reason. But that’s about all the information you’re going to get on it.
Cue the 70s porny music and a young Tom Selleck who stumbles upon a painting of three witches being burned at the stake a long time ago in a demonic world far, far, away. Or is it? Cue the 70s porny music and a young Tom Selleck looking incredulous at the fact that one of the witches looks like a dead ringer for his wife, Chris (Barra Grant).
Almost as soon as Robertson brings the painting home, strange happenings begin taking place everywhere he goes. Cue Tom Selleck looking incredulous.
A big black dog, just like the one in the painting, is a sudden fixture in the Robertson home, though it clearly has something against the master of the house. A strange woman shows up on the doorstep and declares herself the new maid. And then there’s Chris…who suffers from headaches and mental problems and seems to hear voices when she takes the cross of her neck at night.
There is something or someone begging at Chris, who must have fallen in love with her husband after discovering that they both often gave looks of incredulousness, to kill him.
Robertson can’t shake the feeling something is up with that fugly painting on the wall in his study.
The figures disappear and reappear. The scene of the burning and the screams of the witches come to life in the dead of night. His wife suddenly is trying to suffocate him to death with some thick gas bomb she lets off in their bedroom. He’s beaten and threatened by a gang of odd field workers.
Unfortunately, there’s really not much more to the film. The desire for Robertson’s death is explained eventually, so one isn’t completely confused but does little to give point to watching the movie all the way through. And eventually our harrowing Kitty from the first scene returns as a sort of den mother to the other witches. But there’s no idea who these women are and why they are so devoted to Satan.
Daughters could be a piece of deliciously bad satanic satire. But it’s not. It’s just bad. Except for the 70s porny music and the potential of being a decent drinking game.