The 1970s were a very interesting time for genre fare. Independent, low-budget horror was spreading through “exploitation” flicks meant to draw viewers in with promises of violence, nudity, and a variety of other visceral thrills that often came at the price of other luxuries like plot structure, acting, and production value. From this burgeoning grindhouse scene sprang an even more interesting phenomenon, the “blaxploitation” wave. Blaxploitation, particularly horror blaxploitation, focused on film tropes through the lens of black culture.
Those familiar with blaxploitation are likely aware of William Marshall, but they probably know him by another name: Blacula, aka “Dracula’s Soul Brother.” Blacula is one of the most well-known characters of blaxploitation cinema, due largely to what Marshall brought to the role. Despite what on its surface could be considered a silly premise, Marshall managed to bring some pathos to the proceedings, insisting that his character be an African prince turned into a vampire not arbitrarily, but because he crossed Dracula on the issue of slavery. After the cult success of Blacula, Marshall’s grindhouse legacy was secure. But life as a vampire wasn’t enough for Marshall. He was ready to take on demons, which he would do in William Girdler’s 1974 possession movie, Abby.
Abby centers on Abby Williams (Carol Speed) and her husband, Reverend Emmett Williams, (Terry Carter), who are ready to start a fresh chapter in their lives as they move into a new house in Louisville, Kentucky. Unfortunately, while they’re moving boxes, Emmett’s father, Bishop Garnet Williams (Marshall), is exploring a cave in Nigeria and happens upon a box carved with images of Eshu, the Yoruban god of sexuality. When Williams opens the box, he releases the spirit of Eshu, who makes a beeline for Louisville and Abby. Under Eshu’s thrall, Abby’s behavior becomes erratic, as she lashes out at friends and family and engages in increasingly dangerous behavior. Informed of Abby’s condition, Bishop Williams must return to Louisville for a showdown with Eshu for Abby’s soul.
First, let me address the demonic elephant in the room. This movie borrows heavily (see: steal) from The Exorcist. I even took the time to keep a running checklist of lifted elements that I’ll share with you now. Expedition to a foreign land where a malignant entity is discovered? Check. Subliminal flashes of the demon sprinkled in throughout the flick? Check. Vomiting, levitation, and self-mutilation? Check, check, and check. Thankfully, they decided to forego any horrific acts with a crucifix this time around, but they did include a sequence where Abby undergoes medical tests as they try to identify a natural cause for these outbursts. However, rather than using an extended sequence to convey the dreadful nature of going through some of these medical procedures, they rattle off a montage featuring vaguely scientific-looking equipment that just says, “Hey, check out the access we have to all these medical gizmos!”
So yes, it’s clear that writer/director William Girdler was familiar with William Friedkin’s work when he made Abby. It’s also clear that the production company American International Pictures didn’t have nearly the same budget that Hoya Productions and Warner Brothers had when they made and distributed The Exorcist. But here’s the thing about AIP: despite having a name that manages to be vague and contradictory all at the same time, they’re really quite competent at what they do. And what they do is take far-out concepts, utilize a budget of around seven dollars, and still manage to make an effective movie that incorporates discussions about social topics of the day, even if they’re not exactly subtle about it. If you don’t believe me, go look up a movie called Frogs, which follows killer amphibians while also taking on the subjects of class, race, and environmentalism.
With Abby, AIP managed to do a lot with a little, particularly in terms of effects. You’d be surprised at how realistically you can depict a spirit being released into the world with a large fan and some creative shaking of the camera. And while they didn’t have that Exorcist budget to afford to film in Georgetown, they did find a house in Louisville worn down enough to have an ominous vibe while also seeming like a home you could find in your very own neighborhood. Throw in some well-placed smoke, a splash of blood, and you have yourself a scary possession flick.
The effects are also sold so well because the acting is far better than what you’d usually get in most other grindhouse movies, in which most of the actors usually look like they were pulled in off the street and asked to read from an upside-down cue card. Carol Speed and Terry Carter play very naturally off one another, which is important to set the foundation that’s shaken when Eshu is brought into the picture. William Marshall is clearly the veteran here. He carries himself with the same quiet, dignified swagger that he did as Blacula, only this time he drops the menace in favor of a jovial confidence, which is on full display in his final battle against Eshu.
Perhaps ironically for a blaxploitation movie, race isn’t a primary theme in Abby. Of course, race is at least a subconscious element for any movie in the 1970s that features a predominantly black cast, but other blaxploitation movies addressed race more explicitly. Blacula, for example, may just set the record for most white cops slapped silly by a black vampire, and you’d be hard-pressed to find a white character in Sugar Hill that doesn’t make liberal use of racial slurs.
Abby, however, focuses more on delving into fears of masculinity in the 1970s. This, after all, was an era when Burt Reynolds could drive a muscle car with his mustache. But traditional masculinity was also just starting to come into question, as androgynous icons like David Bowie made it sexy for guys to wear makeup.
Abby doesn’t seem to focus too much on what Eshu’s possession does to Abby, but instead hones in on how it affects the men around her, particularly Emmett. As Eshu takes Abby over, she continually questions Emmett’s ability to please her as a man. She kicks him in the groin. She even sexually assaults him. And she does all of this not with her own voice, but in the voice of a very masculine (if sometimes poorly lip-synced) god. In fact, through her possession, Abby becomes less her own character and more just a vessel for our male protagonists to wrestle with threats against their manhood.
Now, make no mistake, Abby never enjoyed the critical or commercial success of The Exorcist (especially after it was taken out of cinemas when Warner Bros. sued AIP for copyright infringement). But while some could see it as a sleazy cash grab by a cut-rate production company, I would argue that it introduces enough of its own elements and flare to be an entertaining and, dare I say, even a thought-provoking movie in its own right. And if I’m being honest, if given the choice between the two, there are times when I’d prefer the jive-talking Eshu over the blasphemous Pazuzu.