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The story is set amongst jungle tribes that live in fear of the devil. Laura Crawford is a model who gets kidnapped by a gang of thugs whilst working in South America. They take her into the jungle and demand a huge ransom. Laura is guarded by some ridiculous looking native who calls himself "The Devil" and has to go through all manner of unpleasantries until the gang get their ransom. Chained maidens are offered in supplication and the devil demonstrates eating pussy in a grossly excessive literal manner. Enter Peter Weston, the devil hunter, who goes into the jungle in true Indiana Jones style to try and rescue her. Written by
Sujit R. Varma
[having a flashback]
What's the matter, Jack?
It was just like this place... all those bombs. Oh! Oh my poor head. I hate the jungle and its humidity.
Come now. It's all over now.
...and these shadows...
We're not in Vietnam now.
The blood was all over the place. I can't take it. Not again. Get me outta here. I can't get these painful memories out if my head
Calm down. Come on... you most control yourself
[...] See more »
The Devil Hunter (this film's UK video title) found itself caught up in the early 1980s 'video nasties' scare, for reasons I find impossible to fathom. It certainly should have been banned, but only because no reasonable human being should have to pay to sit through such junk. As with most of Jesus Franco's films, there are crash zooms to nothing, dreamy music, terrible performances, clumsy dubbing (most of the male characters are apparently dubbed by the same actor!) and several interminable sequences, suggesting that the former musician couldn't wait for a day on the set to finish - so he shot everything fast and cheap in order to get back home to his jazz records and his trumpet. Large parts of the film make no sense, and you'll run out of fingers and toes trying to count the goofs, but the really priceless ones are the actor who actually giggles when a squirt of blood hits him in the face, and the totem pole that bounces when it's supposed to be crashing to the floor. And check out those sound effects - since when did walking through the jungle sound like walking down a gravel drive? If you can find a copy of this tosh anywhere, I'll be surprised, but do yourself a favour and pass it by. If you decide to watch it, you'll want to sue Franco and his colleagues for ninety minutes of your life that you'll never get back.
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