Doctor Mordrid [dir. Charles Band]

In 1992, long before the Marvel Cinematic Universe was even a speck on anyone's horizon, there was a Doctor Strange movie. Only, since the studio didn't have active rights to the character (If you believe the rumor, their option expired before they could mount a movie), they chose to rework their vehicle under a different name, Doctor Mordrid. Here, Jeffrey Combs - star of Re-animator and all its sequels, From Beyond and several other cult vehicles - gets his chance at playing a heroic lead as Anton Mordrid, a powerful sorcerer out to stop a trans-dimensional evil embodied in the chiseled form of Kabal (Brian Thompson). Kabal plans to gather the necessary artifacts that will open a trans-dimensional portal and release his demonic minions to take over the earth; in short, your everyday megalomaniac. A young Jamie Lee Curtis channeling Yvette Nipar is the sassy neighbor and research consultant Samantha Hunt that Mordrid bonds with in the course of his mission.

 

Doctor Mordrid was produced by Full Moon Features (a family outfit run by Charles Band and his father Albert Band, with brother Richard contributing soundtracks to many of them), a company known for their low-budget genre flicks aimed primarily at the home video market. This shows in the script and execution of the film. Large-scale FX laden spectacle was obviously out of the question, so the struggle for the fate of earth is conducted in a rather modest vein. Apart from Thompson's gnarly frame, the threat of invasion is represented by less than a handful of demons peering sleepily out of a portal. While the writing in the original Doctor Strange comics could be wince-inducingly hyperbolic, the dialog in this feature borders on mundane. In general, Mordrid's sights are not set very high in terms of cinematic adventure.

That said the film has its charms. Combs fills the lead part well and looks good in a cape (though the baggy trousers were a no-no). He and Nipar (who should have been a more known face) have good chemistry that shines through, and I like that the film doesn't hurriedly force a romance (the end hints at a possible sequel, but I guess the returns were not good enough to green-light one). The production design is quite strong considering the budget limitations. I love the gorgeous baroque design of Mordrid's man-cave (complete with a pet raven called Edgar Allan). Full Moon regular DoP Adolfo Bartoli delivers some nicely lit frames and Richard Band's score delivers on the heroism. There are some good miniatures and the climactic stop-motion tussle between the skeletons of the T-rex and the mastodon lights up a special place in my heart. It doesn't quite deliver on the spectacular thrills the cover promises, but Doctor Mordrid is a charming bit of superhero ambition in the DTV scene and has the heart to make up for the deficiencies in its vision.