A Mountain of Witches

The Witches Mountain

A professional photographer with ’70s disco hair on assignment to take pics of a reputed haunted hill, picks up a chick and convinces her to go with him. (I’ll have to remember the closing points of that pitch.)

The Witches Mountain

Staying the night at a castle on the mountain’s foothills (separate rooms – for now), camera dude explores the hillside and encounters a coven of witches that twirl, dance around and sing a classical song with full orchestration. That must be where their powers kicked in as I didn’t see any clarinets or bassoons. Heard ’em, though.

The Witches Mountain

He decides its time to get the hell off the hill because dancing witch chicks in sheets goons him out. But fog rolls in and traps the couple on a roadside where Mr. Picture has just set up a tent and is getting ready to pitch a tent, if you catch my clever meaning. That’s when the witch coven captures them. Too bad – if they had just waited another 10 minutes The Witches Mountain (1972) would’ve gotten a whole lot better.

The Witches Mountain That’s all there is. No flying around on brooms (although the photog’s overtly bushy mustache could count as one), no magical powers, no nudity. I used to think witches were cool. Not so much anymore.

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