A young couple, Carol and Robert, travel to the scenic English countryside to investigate the death of Carol’s brother Andrew as well as securing his inheritance. Upon the arrival they meet up with Fiona (Helga Liné, still looking ravishing in this 1981 film) who has a peculiar penchant for the occult, decorating her home with black candles and demonic art prints. Things grow stranger when Carol learns her brother may very well have been involved with Fiona’s diabolical doings. Matters turn dangerous when Robert discards his faith and enters into the coven…

An unspectacular and derivative tease of a film, José Larraz’s Black Candles shows its director’s disinterest throughout its running time. If not for a few queasy sequences, one would have a hard time indeed distinguishing this film from any other soft-core romp of the era. Viewers will have no trouble, however, seeing the countless sexual encounters as the mere cop-outs they are and the wrap-around Satanism an awkward afterthought. Larraz himself admitted that he is not proud of this film, and had no choice but to make the best with the (what he felt) sub-par actors and drop them in bed and fill in the cracks with knee-jerk scenes of perversion and debauchery.

Unsurprisingly, Larraz’s careless treatment results in a tedious viewing experience. For a film sporting so much sexual activity, it is a wonder that so little heat arises. One must take into perspective, however, that Larraz rarely injects his films with sex merely for the purpose of titillation. In his best efforts, including 1974’s Vampires and 1977’s Violation of the Bitch, sex provides suspense and an unsettling fear of imminent violence. Larraz’s sex scenes also operate best with a smattering of the absurd, such as an infamous scene in Violation of the Bitch where a woman awaits sexual favors inside a hollowed out horse. Unfortunately, the sex scenes in Black Candles are mostly devoid of both attributes, and the result is decidedly stale. Even sure-fire eyebrow raisers such as the requisite nude black mass scenes do little to entice the viewer.

Perhaps it is the static direction. Larraz’s lethargy seems to have extended to his camera hand also, as the largely complacent camera prefers to stay put. The outcome is a cheap, made-for-TV quality that further evidences a half-hearted production. The minimalist music also does very little to redeem the film any further from its soft-core stigma. The score is rarely inspired and most often barely serviceable.

But not all is lost. A few sequences salvage themselves quite nicely from an otherwise barely average film. Carol’s dream sequence in which she seduces her brother, while Liné watches threateningly is undeniably erotic and unsettling; a rare achievement hearkening back to Larraz’s better works. And of course the inevitable stunner is an unholy sequence concerning the initiation of a beautiful young woman into the cult by means of an amorous goat. Although the scene of bestiality is obviously (and thankfully) faked, the scene is no less disturbing, especially when the witch-to-be begins to enjoy herself and feverishly laps at the goat with a moist tongue. Most satisfying of all, however, is viewing the descent of a naïve young couple into a satanic vortex. Although the two leads are often bland and somnolent, their tragic descent into a debauched lifestyle provides much interest of the film.

If only Larraz allowed us to glimpse that debauched lifestyle more. Larraz clearly opted for the quickie approach and loaded his film down with uninvolving sex scenes. Aside from two hackneyed scenes of black worship (and a genuinely appalling anal skewering), hardly anything of interest or immediacy occurs here. Finally, Larraz’s lackadaisical attitude will leave a bad taste in many viewers’ mouths, as the final conclusion is nothing more than a cheap trick ending, nearly negating any respect the film may have garnered in its previous ninety minutes.