The Visitor ★★★½

The fact that The Visitor only had a budget of $800,000 but managed to have a cast made up of the who's who of Hollywood in an Italian production means that somebody with a lot of power and money called in some favors. I'm going to take a wild guess and assume it has something to do with Ovidio G. Assonitis, the film's producer and one of the many writers. He's responsible for the Beyond the Door films, Tentacles (which also stars Shelley Winters) and Who Saw Her Die.

Taking into consideration that Assonitis is known for his, uhhh, heavily inspired by Hollywood-horror films, it shouldn't come as a surprise that The Visitor feels a bit like a rip on The Omen, replacing the evil, antagonist of a boy with a girl and Satan/God with interstellar forces of good and evil that have something to do with birds and bald kids (I don't fucking know, man). "I'm a pretty bird!"

A co-production with an Italian "too many cooks in the kitchen" script, typical Italian Horror special FX, great American actors who are mostly not dubbed (with an exception here and there, of course), filmed mostly in Atlanta and studios in Italy, a funky yet abstract score by Franco Micalizzi--it's truly a surreal film.

The Visitor sports some really bizarre filler including a basketball game, gymnastics and ice skating; interestingly, each scene doesn't necessarily feel like typical padding because it's edited together with intense images of death, destruction and menace.

Even if the movie doesn't have much of a comprehensive, straightforward narrative, there's so much more to appreciate. Most specifically one of the final scenes involving two stuntmen in blonde wigs fighting on the stairs (it's my favorite scene), a rash collection of child molester jokes and the happiest, most well-adjusted, newly crippled woman to ever grace the face of the planet.

The Visitor must be seen to be believed, you'll still walk away with your brain in a fog but you'll be just as stunned as the little actress who was for real slapped in the face repeatedly by Shelley Winters.

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