1973's "The Night of the Sorcerers" (La Noche de los Brujos) emerged from writer/director Amando De Ossorio, best known for his quartet of 'Blind Dead' chillers ("Tombs of the Blind Dead," "Return of the Blind Dead," "The Ghost Galleon," "Night of the Seagulls") but first emerging in 1968 with Anita Ekberg's ultra timid "Fangs of the Living Dead." By contrast, one might view this Spanish picture as definitely full blooded, fangs sported by gorgeous young vampire women dressed in leopard skin bikinis who hop through the African jungle in slow motion like demented Easter (or is that Playboy?) bunnies, a definite improvement over his previous non scary outing. The arresting opening captures everything on full display, Barbara King's wide eyed missionary tied between two trees, her clothes whipped off her naked body before the African natives cut off her head with a machete for a blood sacrifice to the leopard god, after which the entire tribe is mowed down in a hail of bullets...while the young woman's head screams and bares her crimson fangs. Alas, nothing else comes close to topping it, the next 40-plus minutes drawn out by dialogue scenes in only two locations, outdoor shooting at Madrid's Aldea del Fresno and the indoor clearing set for the initiation rites. A tiny cast of five lunkheads arrive to research the absence of elephants in the region, learn about the voodoo worship of leopards and how their undead followers roam as cats during the day before regaining human form by night. Jack Taylor ("The Mummy's Revenge") is the lone scientist, Simon Andreu ("The Blood Spattered Bride") nothing more than a gun carrying guide, Kali Hansa ("The Sinister Eyes of Dr. Orloff") his spitfire girlfriend, afraid of the jungle but jealous of the bodacious blondes on safari, Lorena Tower ("It Happened at Nightmare Inn") as photographer Carol, Maria Kosti ("Night of the Seagulls") as filthy rich layabout Liz, her father financing the ill equipped expedition. The monotony of their interactions is only broken by an exact replica of the pre credits sequence, Carol the new victim with camera left on the ground, the once frightened female missionary now a snarling seductress sporting her new leopard skin adornment, cracking the whip herself before putting the bite on their helpless captive (we see how the severed head has been reattached to the body with an adhesive strip that, when removed, effectively kills the vampire). Another 20 minutes conducting a never ending search sets up poor Liz as the next victim, both vamps indulging in a little bloodletting after drowning the ineffective scientist in his own developing liquid. Andreu repeatedly lets his guard down as all this goes on, but with everyone else missing he heads out to the clearing with his rifle to await the nightly ritual, his lover the only female left to be targeted, a series of bad decisions guaranteed not to bring 'em back alive. Fortunately, the iconic imagery makes up for its numerous dull stretches, the director conjuring up slow motion reminders of his greatest triumph with sadistic relish.
