Conjuring: The Book of the Dead (2020)

 

When it comes to Richard Driscoll films, I was ten years clean until I foolishly caved into curiosity after his latest film popped up free and legally on YouTube. Was the relapse worth it? Oh hell no...if anything Tricky Dicky has gotten a whole lot worse now that he has been reduced to working on micro-budgets. Simultaneously passionless and narcissistic in a way that only a Driscoll film can be, Conjuring: The Book of the Dead is the sort of sequel to Evil Calls: The Raven (2008) which caused me to swear off watching his movies a decade ago.

Under his acting name Steven Craine, Driscoll once again steps into the role of horror novelist George Carney. Still haunted by memories of Robin Askwith shagging his wife, Carney has become hooked on vicodin and gets farmed out to authenticate a rare, occult book by his publisher Martha (Lysette Anthony). She also slips him a parchment, which allows Driscoll to pass this off as an adaptation of M.R. James' 'Casting the Runes' in the opening credits. Thereafter it's a slow shuffle around the showbiz graveyard as Carney converses with characters played by Oliver Tobias, Bai Ling, Sylvester McCoy, Michael Madsen, Tom Sizemore, as well as flashback appearances by Robin Askwith and Dudley 'don't ask me to pronounce necronomicon' Sutton. People tend to rag on British sex comedies of the 1970s, weeping over how lack of work forced 'some of our favourite actors' into appearing in them. Oh please!! Of course in those cases, by 'some of our favourite actors' they tend to be referring to people who's day jobs involved appearing in sitcoms, summer shows or stage farces, so were hardly taking much of a step down there. Behind the scenes stories, not to mention publicity photos, hardly supports the idea that those acting greats were having a wretched time by appearing in close proximity to naked young ladies either. No, if you truly want to know career degradation, check out the elderly actors and once promising, once successful people who here get plunged into the green screened, bottomless hell that is a Richard Driscoll film. Everyone looks miserable and painfully aware that they are blotting their own acting legacies by appearing here, even Driscoll himself can't help but look thoroughly bored throughout.

For all the attempts to fill the screen with fan convention names here, Conjuring: The Book of the Dead still registers as 'The Richard Driscoll Show' -watch chronically uninteresting scenes of Driscoll thrashing about in bed whilst having an erotic dream about Bai Ling or hunched over a laptop trying to knock out a best seller. Since the budget barely stretches to anything resembling 'action' Driscoll falls back on long ago footage from Evil Calls: The Raven- recycled here as a 'visualisation' of a graphic novel that Carney is working on. A decision that also allows Driscoll to work Jason Donovan and Eileen Daly, into the credited cast here.

Barely anything happens in Conjuring: The Book of the Dead, and when it does it barely makes any sense. Only once does Driscoll's shysterism become amusing- Carney chats with an occult tour guide played by Tom Sizemore who is about to conduct a tour whilst dressed as a headless ghost and therefore can't possibly take his costume off. Which is awfully convenient, since while it is Sizemore's voice you hear, you can sure bet it isn't Sizemore under that costume. The scene in question is also meant to be taking place at Al Crowley's old haunt The Absinthe House in New Orleans, but anyone who has ever visited Driscoll's native Cornwall -or has seen Legend of the Witches- will likely recognise the location as The Museum of Witchcraft and Magic in Boscastle...which is a long way from New Orleans.

Female characters in the film range from mean bitches who like it rough (Lysette Anthony's publisher) to crazy bitches who like it rough (Bai Ling's occult expert). Was this all just an excuse for Driscoll to have rough sex onscreen with Lysette Anthony and Bai Ling (not at the same time, in case you were wondering) or get some dirty talk from Lysette? "Do you want to put it in my mouth or my cunt" she asks him...can't you just feel the M.R. James influence shining through in dialogue like that.

To add insult to injury, Driscoll sold the YouTube rights to the dreaded 'Watch Movies Now' channel. Best avoided like the plague due to their policy of cutting sex and violence out of movies, presumably in order to make their uploads family friendly and bombard you with the maximum amount of ads. The censorship here manifests itself in 'fogging' out the screen nudity, which results in one (presumably nude) actress being rendered a ghostly, grey mass in-between Driscoll and Bai Ling. An image that inadvertently manages to be more unsettling than any of the dross Driscoll could dream up. If you're a Richard Driscoll fan, there's no hope for you.