Amidst all the movie excitement that summer brings, I nearly overlooked this release, and now I’m urging you not to repeat my mistake.  A decided change-of-pace from the typical warlock or “dark arts” flick, Simon, King of Witches (1971) is also probably too boldly original to be called “refreshing.”  Is an inexplicably engaging conundrum refreshing?

I guess it makes sense for a film that’s all about challenging orthodoxy to be unconventional in its own approach to genre, but that doesn’t mean that Bruce Kessler’s film is at all self-indulgent or undisciplined.  Yes, given the subject matter, the movie is probably far too low-key for many horror enthusiasts.  Others, however, should develop as I did a vast fondness for its surprising nuances and thought-provoking latent content.  Like Let’s Scare Jessica to Death (1971) or Lemorra: A Child’s Tale of the Supernatural (1973), Simon is an early ‘70s original that is unlike anything that folks have even attempted to make since.  All three of these movies share an inquiry into moral values and individualism that belies the production values as well as an eerie lyricism that sticks to its guns despite budgetary constraints (in Simon this quality is mostly evident in the final quarter hour).

As paradoxical as it may sound, Simon, King of Witches is really about one man’s humble quest for apotheosis.  In the process, the title character must navigate the snares of his own libido, various social and financial realities (his check to his landlord bounces), and a vaguely political alliance with the counterculture (i.e., hippie drug dealers).

  What Kessler and writer Robert Phippeny (a real-life warlock) have done is to take an occult storyline with plenty of the standard trappings of the era—esoteric incantations, group nudity—and refashioned it as, believe it or not, a drama of ideas.  We’re meant to see Andrew Prine’s Simon as a Faust or a more self-effacing version of Aleister Crowley:  a maverick striving against cultural biases and general ignorance as much as against the natural order.  From such a description one might expect a lot of scenery-chewing from Prine, but his performance is both solid and charismatic—he actually acts, not grandstands.  It’s the kind of performance, with intelligence even behind the most throwaway moments, that makes the script seem even more literate than it is.

Although the work of Prine’s supporting cast is much more uneven, it hardly diminishes the overall effect here.  Book-ended by a direct-address opening and a conclusion whose odd poeticism defies conventional notions of closure, the events in Simon, King of Witches take place in a narrative space that seems closed off from the rest of Hollywood.  It brings to mind a series of excerpts from a TV show that never aired, a post-Manson, post-1968 version of Bewitched reimagined by Harlan Ellison or Robert Bloch.  Yes, you’d expect to see the influence of Rosemary’s Baby (1968) here… but 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)?  The more I watched and came to realize why Simon, King of Witches is a cult title, I started to wonder what the creative process must have been like.  Well, as usual, Dark Sky’s DVD features some superb extras that in this case include informative, and occasionally disarming, interviews with Prine and Kessler that made me appreciate this remarkable movie all the more.