.When a young couple move into an apartment, they find a box that belonged to the deceased former tenant. Inside is an ornate planchette, a ceramic hand which holds a quill pen and can communicate with the dead. After using it at a dinner party, the wife (Caroline Capers Powers) becomes psychically linked to a series of murders being committed by an obese killer. There's also an effort by the husband (Roger Neil) to get rid of the planchette, which keeps returning, though usually after facilitating the gruesome death of whoever was unlucky enough to come into contact with it.

This is better than most of the dreck Findlay and her husband made back in the 60's and 70's, when they were two of the most successful sexploitation filmmakers on the NY scene. Michael Findlay was killed in a freak helicopter accident in 1977, and Roberta continued to make movies, mostly hardcore porn, before moving into more legitimate filmmaking like this movie. It's still not a good film at all, really, but it has enough goofy plot twists and chintzy special effects to make it worth seeing once for bad movie fans. Yet I can't just lie to you and give it an average rating.

A young woman, Jennifer (Caroline Capers Powers), comes into possession of a spiritualist's planchette, and makes contact with the ghost of a murdered man.

The Oracle is one of director Roberta Findlay's more bearable films, but that's still not saying a great deal given how dire her filmography is as a whole: it's still got a formulaic plot loaded with trite genre clichés that frequently feels like the product of grade school children; it's still directed with zero finesse by a woman who graduated from porn; it still boasts amateurish performances by a cast of unknowns; and it still features laughable special effects. However, it's the sheer ineptitude on display that makes the film easier to digest, the unintentionally hilarious aspects preventing it from being a total snooze-fest like the majority of Findlay's movies.

Caroline Capers Powers is absolutely dreadful, and it's no wonder that this was her only film (she's probably still hiding in embarrassment): Powers spends the entire film screaming hysterically, but never convincingly. Fortunately, she's a good looking gal, so we can be a little forgiving; not so for everyone else, who are as equally untalented but not so easy on the eye. Pam La Testa as hired killer Farkas is the biggest offender (and I mean that literally-she's enormous!): every minute she is on screen is a masterclass in bad casting and wooden acting. Roger Neil, as Jennifer's husband Ray, gives Pam a run for her money though, his lack of acting prowess and porn-star moustache suggesting that he would be better cast in some of Findlay's 'other' movies.

As for the film's most memorable moments, try these for size...

Farkas, pretending to be a bloke, picks up a prostitute, and hacks her up with a knife. This is the one genuinely nasty moment in a film that is primarily schlock. It begins on the streets of seedy '80s New York, establishing a sleazy, gritty tone that, unfortunately, is later discarded in favour of cheesy z-grade horror hokum.

Apartment building superintendent Pappas (Chris Maria De Koron) is attacked by imaginary critters that look like the rubbery finger puppet monsters that I used to play with as a kid. In an attempt to get rid of them, he stabs himself in the arm and the chest (I think I just lost mine).

Unseen forces terrify Jennifer, trashing her apartment, giving Powers yet another opportunity to fail spectacularly at acting terrified.

Believing that a wealthy man has been murdered, Jennifer goes to the dead man's wife with her story instead of telling the police. Someone this stupid almost deserves to die.

As Ray attempts to dispose of the planchette in an incinerator, a pair of rubbery monster hands grab his head and tear it off. Inept gore, but it's too silly not to enjoy.

Farkas pursues Jennifer with axe in hand. Somehow, she manages to keep up with the young woman, despite being three times her weight. Cornering Jennifer, the killer swings her weapon, somehow planting the axe in a cardboard box instead of her intended victim. Her lack of accuracy will be the death of her.

Menaced by the ghost of her victim (a hilariously bad puppet creation), Farkas swings her axe again, this time striking a barrel of toxic waste! The corrosive contents spray into the killer's face, reducing it to a molten mess of gooey flesh and bone. The gore is, once again, bargain basement, but impressively messy.

The ridiculous ending sees the murdered man's wife trapped in her car by her husband's vengeful spirit, and being choked to death by exhaust fumes. Jennifer stops screaming hysterically and takes up being a spiritualist full time.

4.5/10, rounded up to 5 for IMDb. It's garbage, but there's fun to be had.

The Oracle is about a shrieking, hysterical woman who starts fooling around with a magic automatic writing hand that's possessed by the ghost of a murdered man; unfortunately, she can't convince anyone that what's happening is real, because she comes across like an irrational basket case in everything she says and does.

This is not, by any means, an effective horror film; however, it does manage to be unintentionally funny, as the characters around the protagonist - her husband, her best friend, a psychiatrist, the police, et al - dismiss her concerns every time she opens her mouth. The audience is supposed to be on her side, since we know that she's not crazy (at least in regard to the ghost, her constant screeching doesn't say anything good about her general emotional stability), but it's just so obvious why nobody takes her seriously that their completely warranted skepticism becomes comedic.

Oddly, the plot resolves itself, with the ghost killing his killers, so it's not clear why there even needed to be a titular oracle in the first place.

Outside of the accidentally amusing elements it's a rather dry film overall, with only a couple of moments that are intentionally interesting. More recommended for B-movie fans than strict horror buffs.