Michael Reeves – 1967 – England
The second of wunderkind Michael Reeves’ three features before his untimely death at 25, The Sorcerers is a compelling and uncompromising exploration of an idea that would have been right at home in Rod Serling’s Twilight Zone. An elderly, discredited scientist, Prof. Monserrat (Boris Karloff) perfects a contraption that syncs up a subject’s mind to his own, transforming the subject into a kind of emotional transmitter. Wisely, Reeves doesn’t waste time trying to explain the purported science behind such a concept, but jumps straightaway to Monserrat and his wife Estelle (Catherine Lacey) trying out their new surrogate, Mike (Reeves regular Ian Ogilvy), whose every sensation they feel from the safety of their kitchen table and whose impulses they can control telepathically. The professor intends to use this new miracle to provide fellow aged and infirm with pleasurable experiences with the cooperation of youthful volunteers; Estelle, however, is fiendishly invigorated by the experience and immediately needles her husband into using Mike to fulfill every vicarious thrill she can conjure, beginning with theft, progressing to a joy ride on a motorcycle, and eventually culminating in murder. The Sorcerers is the rare kind of film that makes you examine your own ethics by asking how far you would go in the same scenario. Although some critics have interpreted the film as a metaphor for cinema itself, I’m not sure I agree, simply because there are no victims in cinema. Instead I see the film as a critique of the ways in which many people use others to fulfill their own ambitions; from governments sending young men into battle to adults pressuring children to achieve goals they have no interest in. Like his American contemporary George A. Romero, Reeves is adept at maintaining pace and atmosphere through clever use of angles and editing, a skill that keeps a small budget from becoming a liability. He followed this film with the even stronger Witchfinder General (1968), which promised a great career that unfortunately was cut short.
The second of wunderkind Michael Reeves’ three features before his untimely death at 25, The Sorcerers is a compelling and uncompromising exploration of an idea that would have been right at home in Rod Serling’s Twilight Zone. An elderly, discredited scientist, Prof. Monserrat (Boris Karloff) perfects a contraption that syncs up a subject’s mind to his own, transforming the subject into a kind of emotional transmitter. Wisely, Reeves doesn’t waste time trying to explain the purported science behind such a concept, but jumps straightaway to Monserrat and his wife Estelle (Catherine Lacey) trying out their new surrogate, Mike (Reeves regular Ian Ogilvy), whose every sensation they feel from the safety of their kitchen table and whose impulses they can control telepathically. The professor intends to use this new miracle to provide fellow aged and infirm with pleasurable experiences with the cooperation of youthful volunteers; Estelle, however, is fiendishly invigorated by the experience and immediately needles her husband into using Mike to fulfill every vicarious thrill she can conjure, beginning with theft, progressing to a joy ride on a motorcycle, and eventually culminating in murder. The Sorcerers is the rare kind of film that makes you examine your own ethics by asking how far you would go in the same scenario. Although some critics have interpreted the film as a metaphor for cinema itself, I’m not sure I agree, simply because there are no victims in cinema. Instead I see the film as a critique of the ways in which many people use others to fulfill their own ambitions; from governments sending young men into battle to adults pressuring children to achieve goals they have no interest in. Like his American contemporary George A. Romero, Reeves is adept at maintaining pace and atmosphere through clever use of angles and editing, a skill that keeps a small budget from becoming a liability. He followed this film with the even stronger Witchfinder General (1968), which promised a great career that unfortunately was cut short.
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