Throughout the seventies and eighties, New World Pictures released some of the most endearing schlock cinema of that era. Many of studio's horror, sci-fi, and sexploitation films are looked back on fondly. The last movie the company produced was "Warlock." The film appears to be an unambitious late eighties horror flick at first but has developed a cult following over the years. Dig a little beneath the surface and you'll realize why. The film was directed by Steve Miner, director of the first two "Friday the 13th" sequels and oddball haunting flick "House." Screenwriter David Twohy would go on to write blockbusters like "The Fugitive" and "Waterworld," as well as gaining a following for the Riddick series. Stars Lori Singer, Julian Sands, and Richard E. Grant all have fandoms of their own.

The story owes more then a little to "The Terminator" but trades in robots and time travel for witchcraft and magic. A grand warlock, before being executed in 1600s Boston, travels forward in time, winding up in 1980s L.A. A witch hunter with a personal grudge against the sorcerer leaps into the portal after him, following him into the future. The two men cross paths with Kassandra with a K, a snarky twenty-something living in the city. The Warlock uses his Satanic powers to cause chaos, even aging Kassandra twenty years, the witch hunter on his trail the whole time. The MacGuffin motivating the evil witch is an ancient book that could bring about the un-creation of the universe. Needless to say, neither Redferne nor Kassandra want that to happen.

"Warlock" strikes the right balance between humor, campy special effects, eighties action-style thrills, and harder horror elements. The script gets some decent laughs out of its "fish out of water" premise. Both Redferne and the Warlock have comical reactions to modern society, particularly to airplanes and cars. Lori Singer's Kassandra, meanwhile, frequently reacts to the supernatural insanity suddenly in her life with sarcastic one-liners. Side moments, like a cop's radar going crazy when the flying Warlock speeds by or a surprisingly modern reverend, also provide chuckles. For laughs of the unintentional variety, some of the film's special effects, like animated fireballs or the flying wizard, haven't age the best.

However, "Warlock" is still a horror film and provides some grisly and clever moments for genre fans. Upon arriving in L.A., the Warlock bites a man's tongue out, the severed appendage landing in a simmering fry pan. Mary Woronov's cameo as a fraud spiritualist ends with the villainous wizard yanking her eyeballs out. When a Mennonite makes eye contact with the witch, he's immediately cursed, blood running from his eyes. The most morbid element of the film happens off-screen, when the villain murders a child to rend his fat. That the film's tone isn't completely thrown out of balance by such a dark moment is a testament to Twohy's clever writing.

The nature of magic also provides some witty moments. Those removed eyeballs mentioned earlier float in the Warlock's hand, deepening his sight. A cut to the chest magically heals, in a simple but satisfying special effect. When the evil wizard appears in a home, it has immediate effect on the surroundings. Milk goes sour. Bread won't rise. Though the villain is the one that mostly practices magic, it's a two-way street. Hammering nails into his footprints puts the witch in immense pain. Salt burns his skin. A bloodied weather vane is used to determine what ground is holy and what isn't. It's refreshing that the script treats the Warlock as a blatantly Satanic character, an old-fashion horror-movie witch.

If the smarter then average script isn't the main attribute here, it's the stand-out cast. Julian Sands' reputation as a cult actor would mostly be founded on his work here. Sands' icy coolness and effete handsomeness suits the part well. (I'm not surprised a certain portion of the female population found him incredibly sexy.) He strikes a good balance between serious threat and wry sarcasm. Richard E. Grant, primarily known as a comedy actor, actually does well playing the straight man, the deathly serious Redferne. He's even convincing as an action hero, stabbing Sands or grabbing him with a whip. Grant's comedic strength still shines through, especially when faced with his own corpse. The best performance probably belongs to Singer though. She shows a deft comedic timing, gamely trading barbs with her male co-stars. She's effortlessly charming and, even if the script can't sell the romance between Grant and her, the two still play off each other nicely.

The film's central threat, that the villain could undo the entire universe by speaking God's one true name backwards, probably isn't given as much attention as it deserves. The way the Warlock is dispatched, a payoff on a character's briefly mentioned diabetes, comes a bit out of nowhere. Yet "Warlock" functions fantastically as eighties horror comfort food. A genuinely eerie Jerry Goldsmith score keeps things rolling along. The film's fantastic VHS-box-lending poster art got the film rented more then a few times which is the ideal way to watch it. The movie was popular enough to spawn two sequels, only one featuring Sands, but the Warlock has never reached the status of a Freddy or a Pinhead. Which is a shame since the film proves highly entertaining.

The late 80's and 90's have not been a particularly good time for big-budget horror movies, but Warlock, a kind of supernatural Terminator, works particularly well. Everyone is well-cast, although the focus is on the three leads. Julian Sands is at his most diabolical, but Richard Grant also does well, neatly portraying Redferne as a man out of time (essentially Michael Biehn's character from Terminator, in reverse). Lori Singer is...well, tolerable. The Warlock is not the all-powerful deity that the writers could have portrayed him as (and as he'll be portrayed in the next movie), meaning that the battles between him and Redferne are actually pretty interesting.

An evil and powerful warlock (superbly played to the deliciously wicked hilt by Julian Sands) manages to escape from the 17th century into Los Angeles in the 20th century. He's pursued by determined witch hunter Giles Redferne (a fine and intense performance by Richard E. Grant). It's up to Redferne and brash waitress Kassandra (an appealingly spunky portrayal by Lori Singer) to stop the warlock before he gathers up all the pages of the witches' bible the Grand Grimoire, learns God's true name, and undoes all creation. Director Steve Miner, working from a witty, compelling, and imaginative script by David Twothy, relates the involving story at a constant snappy pace, spices up the horrific action with a neat line in pitch-black macabre humor, and stages the exciting climax in an old cemetery with real rip-snorting gusto. While Miner basically downplays the graphic gore, he still tosses in a few pleasingly nasty touches: the warlock cuts a man's finger off, bites the same guy's tongue out, and spits it in a frying pan and acquires the ability to fly by cooking the fat of an unbaptized boy. Moreover, the casting of the smoothly handsome Sands as one very fearsome villain and the scruffy Grant as a decidedly rough around the edges protagonist is quite fresh and inspired. The film further benefits from bang-up acting from a tip-top cast: Sands, Grant, and Singer are all excellent in the leads, Richard Kuss does well as a devout Mennonite, and Mary Woronov has an amusing cameo as a phony spiritualist. David Eggby's slick cinematography gives the film an impressively glossy look. Jerry Goldsmith's typically robust and moody score likewise hits the stirring spot. The special effects are a bit dodgy, but overall acceptable. A highly entertaining fright feature.