Hypnotist Rob Seven begins with a statement that the female talent here is under his spell of sexual suggestions - like a version of The Manchurian Candidate with less clothing... and no Frank Sinatra... and the ending isn't as great.

However, Seven's powers of persuasion would have been better put to use on the writers. Seven is Lancelot (you know - knights, Roundtable, Society for Creative Anachronism? - that Lancelot), resurrected accidentally in the deserts of Nevada, dressed in black robes and what looks like a tastevin (that way-funky sommelier's medallion), by a pair of treasure hunters who do most of poking and excavating with each other. Since the story needs an excuse for hypnotized hi-jinx, Lancelot also has the power to wow women to do his bidding... and much carnal coupling ensues. The thousand-some-odd-year-old knight wanders the desert like Caine in Kung Fu and finds, of course, Las Vegas. The movie ends with a mystical showdown in an adult bookstore, sans special effects.

Arrow seems to be aiming for quantity with seven sex scenes, but even with the hypnosis for the horny, the quality of the carnality leaves much to be desired. Seven's sexual suggestions don't seem to raise the heat too much, and most of the sex seems rote and by the numbers.

In the end, Come Under My Spell comes off like a cheap parlor trick.