ncubus opens with a strange, droning voice-over that tells us (in Esperanto, with English subtitles) that the village of Nomen Tuum has an ancient well that is reputed to heal the sick and make people beautiful. It attracts the vain and corrupt, and thus the area is a hunting ground for succubi, demons manifesting themselves as lovely women who lure the tainted folk to their doom.
Kia (Ames) is one such succubus, and indeed, in the film's opening scenes, she leads a doltish fellow to the ocean with promises of a skinny-dip and frolic, then drowns him. But Kia is not a happy demon. She's weary of ensnaring these all-too-willing fools. She wants to corrupt a saint, a noble soul. Then she would be "the Beast God's best daughter."
Kia's mentor, Amael (Hardt), warns her to stay away from good folk, for they have a mysterious and profound power that rules the heart, a power called love. But Kia isn't buying it, and she soon finds a noble soul in Marc (Shatner), a brave hero recently returned from war. When she arrives at his shack posing as a weary traveler, sparks immediately fly. Marc offers to accompany her on her journey, at least as far as the ocean. Love—and desire—are in the air. Passion enflames the couple. They kiss. Kia suggests they get naked on the dunes, but Marc hesitates. He wants to do the right thing: get married in a church all proper-like. And so begins a struggle not just for Marc's soul, but for Kia's, too.
An unusual cinematic experience
The history of Incubus is as twisted and tortured as one of the damned in hell. After two of the principal actors (Ann Atmar and Milos Milos) committed suicide within a year of its release, all prints were pulled from distribution for fear that the film was cursed. It became lost for more than 30 years, until the producer discovered a single copy in a Paris theater. Now, with funding from the SCI FI Channel, the movie has been restored and released on VHS and DVD.
For an almost 40-year-old, low-budget, black-and-white movie, Incubus holds up quite well. The film uses the lush landscape of the Big Sur region of California—flowing fields of wild grasses, huge trees, rocky beaches—to create a fairy-tale otherworldliness. Haunting music from flutes, harp and even a theremin complement the visuals. Further adding to the weirdness, all the dialogue is in Esperanto, the universal language created by L.L. Zamenhof in the late 19th century.
The film has a timeless quality. The simple clothes and dwellings could come from any period in the last 500 years. And this simplicity keeps the film from appearing dated or silly. The story is direct, not sensationalist or exploitative. It generates a mood reminiscent of Kurosawa, but unique. Although punctuated by some creepy imagery, there's nothing particularly grisly.
Director Leslie Stevens (one of the creators of 1963's The Outer Limits series) perhaps loved the Big Sur landscape too much, and gives us far too many long, slow shots of various people walking from here to there. It becomes a bit tedious. A bigger distraction, though, is that in Esperanto Marc is pronounced "Marco." As various characters run through the night crying out "Marco!" you soon won't be able to resist yelling "Polo!" back.
Shatner and the other actors acquit themselves well, and the Esperanto rolls off their tongues naturally. Incubus may not be the most exciting horror movie ever made, but I can guarantee you've never seen anything like it.
