The Manitou, Mid-America Pictures, 1978

starring: Tony Curtis, Jon Cedar, Michael Ansara, and Susan Strasberg
directed by: William Girdler

the plot: Karen Tandy (Strasberg) has a strange, rapidly growing tumor on her back, and she swears she can feel the growth moving. Her physician, Dr. Jack Hughes (Cedar), is mystified and refuses to believe the apparent cause of the tumor—a creature is growing on Karen’s back. Seeking solace, Karen reconnects with her ex-boyfriend, Harry Erskine (Curtis), a phony psychic who spends his days doing Tarot readings for rich old ladies. In the middle of the night, Harry awakens and hears Karen talking in her sleep, uttering a mysterious phrase in another language. The language, Harry learns, is that of an ancient Native American tribe that lived in northern California. He consults with John Singing Rock (Ansara), a medicine man familiar with the tribe, and learns the horrifying truth behind Karen’s condition: the spirit of a centuries-old shaman is using Karen’s body to re-enter the world of the living. Harry, John and Dr. Hughes struggle to save Karen, but the shaman’s spirit is powerful, and the three men soon learn that ancient magic and modern technology are no match against a force of cosmic evil.

why it’s good: In the struggle against eldritch spirits that thirst for revenge, a big electric typewriter is essential. This is one of the many pro-technology lessons that “The Manitou” offers. Tony Curtis hurls a typewriter about the size of a small child at the evil medicine man (also about the size of a small child) who’s vexing his girlfriend. The typewriter explodes, the medicine man shrieks, and Curtis lives to fight a few moments longer. But why do typewriters so bedevil reincarnated spirits? This and many other questions are left unanswered by “The Manitou,” a thick slab of cinematic cheese that ripens slowly and delivers the goods with a seriously trippy climax. All the highlights occur during the final 30 minutes, though, after more than an hour of long, talky scenes punctuated by random moments of spookiness or unintentional hilarity. For instance, “The Manitou” is spooky when, during a séance, a green, goopy ghost’s head rises from the middle of a table. It’s hilarious when an old lady levitates out of Curtis’ swank bachelor pad/psychic emporium, tosses herself down a flight of stairs and demolishes a flimsy banister. (Curtis wears a fake mustache during his psychic readings, and this bit of false facial hair is simultaneously creepy and funny.) These moments are amusing but don’t make up for the slack pacing of the first two thirds of “The Manitou.” Only when a gross, evil-looking midget emerges from Susan Strasberg’s back does the movie get awesome. Curtis uses some giant computers and the power of love to help a topless Strasberg save the day by shooting lasers at the evil midget and the devil himself (here represented by a giant, floating eyeball in space). Typewriters are a necessary tool against the forces of darkness, of course, but who needs ’em when you’ve got a weaponized naked lady?

why you should own it: “The Manitou” is worth renting, if only for Curtis’ wonderfully campy performance and the nonsensical climax. You can safely nap through most of the middle of the movie, but at least wait until you see Curtis in his fake mustache at least once.