The Visitor -1979- -

How did come to exist? The answer lies with producer Ovidio G. Assonitis, an Italian producer known for ripping off Hollywood hits ( Tentacles , The Pumaman ). Assonitis had an audacious plan: combine The Omen (demonic child) with Close Encounters of the Third Kind (cosmic wonder) and The Exorcist (supernatural showdown), then film it all through a kaleidoscope.

The action shifts to 1970s Atlanta, where 8-year-old (Paige Conner) serves as the latest vessel for Zatteen's malice. While her mother, Barbara (Joanne Nail), is unaware of the girl's true nature, a cabal of wealthy Satanists—disguised as corporate executives and doctors—aims to have Barbara conceive a son. Their goal is to breed the siblings together to bring about the ultimate physical manifestation of Zatteen. The Visitor -1979-

John Huston reportedly hated making it. Glenn Ford called it "the weirdest thing I’ve ever done." And yet, their confusion is the source of the film’s magic. The Visitor feels less like a movie and more like a transmission from a parallel dimension—one where children command telekinetic falcons, space Christ fights Satan in a basketball arena, and every frame looks like a Giorgio de Chirico painting on acid. How did come to exist

In the vast, uncharted wasteland of late-night television and dusty VHS rental shelves, there exists a specific sub-genre of film that can only be described as "cinematic fever dreams." These are movies that defy traditional logic, narrative cohesion, and sometimes, the laws of physics. Standing tall among these oddities, radiating a bizarre and hypnotic glow, is Giulio Paradisi’s 1979 science-fiction/horror oddity, Assonitis had an audacious plan: combine The Omen

Often dismissed upon its initial release as a mere "Omen" or "Exorcist" clone, The Visitor has undergone a critical resurrection in recent years. Thanks to a stunning restoration by Drafthouse Films, modern audiences are finally able to appreciate the film for what it truly is: a hallucinatory, avant-garde explosion of stylistic excess that plays less like a Hollywood blockbuster and more like a surreal Italian art piece directed by an alien who had cinema described to them but had never actually seen a movie.

If you want to experience this singular piece of cinema, seek out the 2014 Grindhouse Releasing Blu-ray or the 4K digital restoration available on platforms like Amazon Prime and Shudder (depending on your region). Do not watch a cropped, fuzzy YouTube upload. The film’s visual grandeur—the symetrical compositions, the Steadicam shots through mirrored corridors—demands high definition.