Half a year before Arnold Schwarzenegger fulfilled his “I’ll be back” pledge, Hollywood stoked audience interest with a mix of dark humor, Hammer Horror, and classic wizardry—serving as a medieval twist on.
Warlock actually debuted internationally in 1989, but New World Pictures’ severe financial troubles left it mired in U.S. distribution limbo until it finally reached theaters exactly 35 years ago (which explains the scene where Mann’s Chinese Theater is still screening Frantic). Luckily, Trimark Pictures recognized its promise, giving American moviegoers a chance to see two British actors at their most delightfully over-the-top.
This unlikely franchise starter rises and falls on the performances of Julian Sands and Richard E. Grant: Sands plays the title sorcerer, dead set on bringing about the “uncreation of man,” while Grant is the witch hunter determined to stop him. Both seem to get the assignment, delivering performances that lean into the absurdity of the time-travel plot without tipping into winking parody.
Director Steve Miner wastes no time on backstory or setup, plunging viewers straight into what looks like the fatal conclusion of their 17th-century feud. But just in time, Satan saves Warlock from hanging and sends him to modern-day Los Angeles—with Grant’s Redferne hot on his heels.
Unfortunately for Kassandra (spelled with a K, played by Lori Singer), a laid-back waitress with a knack for harsh zingers (“What a total ass burr”), both men reappear in her apartment. Warlock, first mistaken for a drunk partygoer, crashes her living room before slicing off roommate Chas’ (Kevin O’Brien) ring finger and tongue. To make things worse, he gouges out a spiritualist’s eyes during a demonic possession that reveals his evil mission: find the three parts of a Satanic bible called The Grand Grimoire, recite the holy name inside it backwards, and destroy the world forever.
Like Arnold’s ruthless killing machine, Warlock will do anything to complete his task—even flaying an unbaptized boy alive to gain the power of flight (“I need no broomstick to fly,” he tells the boy moments prior, with perfect menacing gravity). Yes, this is a movie unafraid to kill off kids, though the body count is surprisingly low for a director who previously helmed the first two Friday the 13th sequels.
To her horror (“Nothing could be worse than this!”), Warlock also curses Kassandra to age 20 years daily, putting her at risk of dying from old age before the week is out (though Singer’s elderly makeup is just as unconvincing as Warlock’s clearly animated ectoplasmic rays). Redferne eventually shows up in her kitchen too, ready to save humanity with a handy compass that always points to his nemesis.
This is where Warlock kicks into high gear, as they travel across rural America—highlighted by a Mennonite community surprisingly prepared for a supernatural invasion—on their own quest for revenge, tapping into the mismatched buddy dynamic that was all the rage in the ’80s. “Check this,” Kassandra says after getting unwanted driving advice. “Some guy from the 17th century telling me how to drive. How fast they learn!”
While other films would lean hard into the “fish out of water” angle, Warlock avoids the obvious. Both hero and villain adapt surprisingly well to the 20th century, taking car radios (and cars themselves) in stride while never losing sight of their goals (though Redferne struggles to grasp air travel safety). They’re not as unstoppable as the Terminator—Warlock is finally undone by a vial of salt water—but they’re just as focused.
And while Kassandra isn’t a superhero, she’s far from a typical damsel in distress. She holds her own during a surprisingly physical first meeting with Redferne, shows resourcefulness with a magical hammer that nails feet (the film does a great job building its mythical world), and even manages to resurface after being thrown into a lake to deliver the fatal, world-saving blow.
Of course, the two leads steal the show. Grant adopts a thick Scottish accent that makes Redferne feel like he escaped from the equally silly Withnail & I, landing the best one-liners—whether dismissing helpful flight attendants (“Over my rotten corpse”) or threatening taxi drivers (“Lest you favor throttlings to the ears and face, bear west here”) in deliciously archaic style. Sands, with his striking blonde ponytail and all-black outfit, seems to be having a blast as the deeply evil villain; it’s no surprise he’s the only cast member to return for the unrelated 1993 sequel.
Unlike Withnail & I, Warlock: The Armageddon (and 1999’s Sands-free Warlock III: The End of Innocence) failed to capture the low-budget charm of the original. But the first Warlock still remains one of the more enjoyable clones of the original Terminator.