Doctor Mordrid (1992) – Review

In 1992, Doctor Mordrid emerged from the depths of B-movie magic, a film that feels like a low-budget Doctor Strange movie — because, well, it almost was. This was to be an adaptation of that Marvel Comics character, that is, until the pre-production phase took so long that by the time filming started, they lost the rights to the name. But instead of scrapping the film altogether, they decided, “Let’s just change it enough so as not to get sued.”

In the realm of cult cinema, few films embody the spirit of low-budget ambition quite like Doctor Mordrid. Directed by Charles and Albert Band, this direct-to-video fantasy film is a fascinating example of Full Moon Entertainment’s ability to craft entertaining, if derivative, genre films on a shoestring budget. Originally conceived as an adaptation of Marvel’s Doctor Strange, Doctor Mordrid was repurposed into an original property when Full Moon lost the rights to the character. The result is a film that clearly echoes its Marvel origins but manages to carve out its own niche within the pantheon of B-movie magic.

“I see lawyers in our near future.”

The plot involves centuries-old inter-dimensional sorcerer Doctor Anton Mordrid (Jeffrey Coombs) living incognito as a New York scholar, who is tasked with guarding the world from evil forces that threaten the mortal plane. Mordrid spends most of the movie pacing around his apartment, brooding over magical glyphs, and occasionally glaring at people really hard. When his old nemesis, Kabal (Brian Thompson), escapes from his prison dimension and threatens to conquer the world with dark magic, Mordrid must step out of the shadows to stop him. Assisting him is Samantha Hunt (Yvette Nipar), a skeptical but curious researcher who gets swept into his mystical war. 

I wonder if he can get cable on that thing.

Upon realizing that Kabal is loose, Mordrid finally stops brooding in his lair and gets to work. This involves the classic superhero move of getting arrested—yes, he’s picked up for owning an artifact that links him to one of Kabal’s murders. He is taken to the police precinct by obtuse Detective Tony Gaudio (Jay Acovone). Thankfully, Samantha helps him escape, because she just knows there’s something special about this strange, robe-wearing landlord of hers. Once she learns that Mordrid is, in fact, an inter-dimensional wizard protecting Earth, she goes from skeptical scientist to ride-or-die sidekick in record time. Together, they attempt to stop Kabal before he can unleash his master plan.

“Now, shall you deal with me, oh Doctor, and all the powers of HELL!”

What follows is Doctor Mordrid’s pièce de resistance: a battle of stop-motion dinosaur skeletons, because if you’re going to have a low-budget wizard duel, why not involve prehistoric fossils? Mordrid uses his magic to bring a Tyrannosaurus Rex skeleton to life, and it goes head-to-head with a mammoth skeleton controlled by Kabal. The fight is as ridiculous as it sounds, with the stop-motion effects looking like they wandered in from a 1950s Ray Harryhausen film. But let’s be honest—this is exactly the kind of absurd spectacle that makes B-movies so much fun. In the end, Mordrid out-magics Kabal, sending him back to his inter-dimensional prison. Samantha, now fully invested in this wizard life, sticks around, and Mordrid goes back to his mystical surveillance job, waiting for the next threat.

“Quick, someone call Ben Stiller!”

Stray Observations:

• In the opening credits, it states “Based on an original idea by Charles Band,” which is a bold statement considering the film started out as a Doctor Strange adaptation.
• Anton Mordrid uses a flashy magical doohickey to escape pesky questions from the neighbours, a device one could say inspired the neuralyzer from MIB.
• One of the stop-motion werewolves from The Howling appears in the climax as one of Kabal’s minions.
• Mordrid has a Raven named Edgar Allen, and Jeffrey Coombs would later play Edgar Allen Poe in the Masters of Horror episode “The Black Cat.”
• The film takes place in New York City, but the sign on the museum where Mordrid battles Kabal clearly reads “Los Angeles County Historical and Art Museum.” Is this a case of more inter-dimensional mischief?
• This “knockoff” Doctor Strange was not the first attempt at creating a “Sorcerer Supreme,” as CBS released a made-for-television Doctor Strange back in 1978.

Who is the real Sorcerer Supreme?

Without a doubt, Jeffrey Combs, best known for his role as Herbert West in Re-Animator or his many appearances on Star Trek, is the film’s biggest asset as he plays Mordrid with a mix of deadpan seriousness and wry detachment, giving the character a gravitas the script doesn’t always earn. He delivers a performance that elevates Doctor Mordrid beyond its limited production values. His portrayal of this “Sorcerer Supreme” is restrained yet commanding, lending the character an air of authority and mystique. Unlike the more eccentric roles Combs often plays, Mordrid is a stoic, noble figure, which allows Combs to showcase his versatility as an actor. While the script does not give him much depth to explore, his presence alone makes the character engaging. He’s got a great mystical lair, complete with floating orbs and a glowing amulet, and he rocks a flowing blue robe like he was born to command the astral plane. 

“Do you come here often?”

Every good sorcerer needs a great villain, and Brian Thompson’s Kabal is… well, he’s a villain. With his chiselled jaw, menacing stare, and a voice that sounds like he gargles with gravel, Thompson was clearly having a blast playing the bad guy. And what is Kabal’s plan? Open some sort of inter-dimensional portal, unleash destruction upon the world, and wear lots of black leather while doing it. He’s basically the goth cousin of every ‘80s action movie villain, and it’s glorious. He provides a serviceable foil to Mordrid, with his imposing stature and gravelly voice, he looks the part of a formidable villain. However, his performance is more theatrical than menacing, and the character lacks the depth needed to be truly memorable. Despite this, the dynamic between Combs and Thompson provides enough tension to drive the film forward.

Evil sorcerer or cyborg from the future?

As for the film’s special effects, all the good intentions in the world can’t help if the money isn’t there, and in the case of Doctor Mordrid, you can feel the budget constraints everywhere. As with most Full Moon Entertainment productions, this film operated on a very limited budget, which is both its greatest fault and a source of its charm. The highlight is the aforementioned stop-motion dinosaur skeleton battle, animated by David Allen, whose work recalls the classic effects of Ray Harryhausen. This sequence stands out as an impressive feat given the film’s modest resources. Unfortunately, the rest of the magic is your standard B-movie fare: glowing eyes, hand gestures, and occasional energy blasts that look like they were drawn on the film with a crayon. The mystical elements, which should be awe-inspiring, often come across as flat and uninspired.

“Help me, I’m trapped in a 90s screensaver!”

The key limiting factor of Doctor Mordrid is Albert Band’s direction, as it is functional at best. The pacing drags interminably at times as the film clocks in at just over 70 minutes, yet somehow still feels slow. The plot is formulaic, and the dialogue is packed with heavy-handed exposition. There’s no real tension—every scene unfolds exactly as expected, with minimal surprises. The film’s world-building is also disappointingly thin. Mordrid has supposedly been watching over humanity for centuries, but we get little sense of his history or the stakes of his battle. Everything about the conflict feels small, which is a problem when the story is supposed to be about the Fate of the World.

“Says here, we’re not getting a sequel.”

Ultimately, Doctor Mordrid is more a missed opportunity than anything else. Had Full Moon been able to make this Doctor Strange adaptation, as they originally planned, it still would have been goofy and cheap. Still, what we did get is a mildly amusing curiosity for B-movie fans and Jeffrey Combs completists. What I’m saying is, don’t expect anything too epic—it’s more Sorcerer’s Apprentice than Sorcerer Supreme. For fans of Full Moon Entertainment, it represents one of the studio’s more ambitious efforts, and for Jeffrey Combs fans, it offers another memorable performance from a true genre icon.