Artistic licence?

Trying to make some semblance of understanding as to the purpose of this 'film', this reviewer found himself scouring the extras for enlightenment. Apparently after realizing that the two period set scripts they proposed were too expensive to try and film, Julian Doyle proudly announces 'Bruce came back the next day with a whole new script, he really is a prolific writer!'. Err, OK, maybe the writing (or lack of it) was on the wall right there and then Julian.

Whatever budget they did have presumably went on Simon Callow's fee. Oh! how the mighty have fallen. Surrounded by a cast of wooden, lifeless amateur dramatists (I can't believe the rest of the cast actually got paid anything), Callow halfheartedly huffs, puffs, bellows and camps it up it up all the way through until pay day.

This is basically a cheap, half baked attempt at cramming in as much info about and as as many quotes concerning Crowley as possible. Before descending into the inevitable horror/sci fi, mish mash one expects from such a ramshackle mob of 'film makers'.

Terry Jones was originally mooted to produce this mishap and maybe with someone of his talent behind it, it would have stood a chance. The basic premise isn't actually that bad. If taken as a work of pure fiction that is.

Perhaps Dickinson would have been better suited to finance a balanced, impartial documentary on Crowley's life. Something which has still yet to surface amongst all the mudslinging, shock horror nonsense out there about him. One hundred years down the road and still everyone takes the easy route in trying to describe this extraordinary man.

Another review of this monstrosity likens it to a 70's episode of Dr Who. Way too kind in my book. More like something a twelve year old cobbled together on a video camera for a school project I'd say and I think that does a disservice to most twelve year olds.

BD is listed in the cast as 'a blind man'. I don't need to add anything to the irony of that.

If there were a no star rating, this would be the recipient.

I'll leave the last words to describe this nonsense to the man so hideously misrepresented in this cinematic offal.

'The nightmare quality which appals so irresistibly, 'hog like abortion' is rather rough on the hogs and the abortionists.' 'The English language fails.'