Sometimes a film is bad enough to exert an almost irresistible fascination, and here's a case in point: an idiotic but colorful melodrama saved in part by Orson Welles' flamboyant performance as Count Alessandro di Cagliostro, a mystic gypsy hypnotist and infamous 18th century charlatan plotting to substitute a somnambulistic imposter to the French throne. Each labored twist of plot falls conveniently into place with an obstinate disregard for logic or coherence (notice how every peripheral character is neatly killed off during the rousing climactic chase), and the period dialogue is, to a word, laughable, in particular during the wacky prologue, where Ramon Burr (as author Victor Hugo) site bedeviled by the character taking shape on the pages before him. Welles' control over the material is obvious: he may have been only an actor for hire, but every baroque and stylish excess bears his unmistakable signature.
Review of Black Magic
