"Admit it...I'm the pornography that gets you hot!"

“Admit it…I’m the pornography that gets you hot!”

Brian Yuzna? He’s the fella who caused the screen to drip with fleshy fluids as the bodies of the rich and privileged turned to playdoh whilst writhing like dying worms on fancy carpets in Society, right? Tell me more.

Mystery, intrigue, secret societies and soul-selling to Satan? As a fan of Dennis Wheatley’s tales of the black arts and orgiastic revelry – yes, I would be interested in that.

Wait, what’s that you say? It has Jeffrey Combs in it? As a fan of his Lovecraftian dabblings and admirer of his ‘little brother of Bruce Campbell’ good looks, you can consider this potential viewer well and truly sold on this Faustian-pact-wrapped package.

Jaspers, institutionalized post first hypnotic killing spree, draws smiley faced devils on the walls while psychiatrist Jade de Camp tries to reach him via the medium of Bach and Death Metal...

Jaspers, institutionalized post first hypnotic killing spree, draws smiley faced devils on the walls while psychiatrist Jade de Camp tries to reach him via the medium of Bach and Death Metal…

Fragile shell of a man John Jaspers (Mark Frost) is haunted by the brutal killing of his girlfriend at the hands of ragtag gaggle of thugs. On the brink of suicide, he is offered the chance to exact bloody revenge in exchange for his earthly soul by a sinister black-clad, white haired gentleman. In his haste, Jaspers fails to realise that following his wave of vengeance, he will forever be bound to do the bidding of a master with a candyfloss barnet – as a wolverine claw wearing agent of death. Caught and imprisoned – with no memory of his actions – Jaspers is befriended by Dr de Camp (Isabelle Brook) who aims to unlock the doors in his mind through her work in music therapy. But Dr de Camp has her own demons, haunted both by the loss of her father and terrifying sexual abuse at the hands of  ‘the Smooth Man’. When the cd player becomes too much to bear, Jaspers remembers everything, and heads for his candyfloss boss.

Look at the size of that sausage...

Look at the size of that sausage…

Rebelling against his fate, Jaspers is despatched of, and safely stored six feet under.

Wings? Cape? Stained sheets?

Wings? Cape? Stained sheets?

Only the thing is, the moon is in conjunction with…something, and the stars have aligned with…summat else, reawakening the body of John Jaspers as the superhuman demon Faust! To quote the old Always Ultra ad – Now with Wings! That look disappointingly like some moth-eaten curtains found at the bottom of a recycling bin. The rest of his bare muscled body looks alright though…in the right light. Watch out, candyfloss Mephistopheles, he’s coming for you! And your cult of followers that seems to include everyone but slightly sleazy detective Dan Margolies (Combs).

Oh, wait...scrap that.

Oh, wait…scrap that.

The ropey wings are not the only low quality thing about Faust, unfortunately. The film suffers from a sprawling plot that involves far too many flashbacks, a host of characters with no explanation or grounding, and often seems more than a little confused. The usual disgusting effects of Yuzna don’t seem to bear any resemblance to the good work of his past filmic visions; they just seem revolting and occasionally shoddy.

Candyfloss Mephistopheles turns his treacherous concubine into a giant mammary gland

Candyfloss Mephistopheles turns his treacherous concubine into a giant mammary gland

Which would be entirely forgivable had I cared about – or maybe just known – what was going on. Or the women involved weren’t relegated to nothing more than vessels for sex or torture. Not just the women, I suppose. Margolies does get ripped apart by some giant hellbeast snake before birthing an even bigger snake; that can shoot lasers from a pentagram on its head. Or, wait, is said beast the product of candyfloss Mephistopheles ripping out his ex-concubine’s innards and trying to impregnate a virginal doctor who suddenly realizes the identity of her childhood abuser?

The smooth man...I'd have said 'slimy', but there you go.

The smooth man…I’d have said he’s more ‘slimy’, but there you go.

What the hell is going on? Have the planets aligned? Did they have enough sex? Have the gates of hell opened?
Why is everyone dead?

Candyfloss Mephistopheles's laser beast goes postal.

Candyfloss Mephistopheles’s laser beast goes postal.

Faust: Love of the Damned ultimately throws too much shit at the wall, and none of it sticks. It passed the time, but remained entirely forgettable. While it was still playing.

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