A young couple -- father Ben (solid Charles Bateman), wife Nicky (the lovely Ahna Capri) and their daughter KT (the cute Geri Reischl of "I Dismember Mama" fame) -- find themselves trapped in a small California desert town populated by hysterical lunatics. Worse yet, there's a pernicious Satanic cult that's been abducting little children for their own diabolical purposes. Director Bernard McEveety, working from an offbeat and inspired script by William Welch and L.Q. Jones ("Devil Times Five" director Sean MacGregor came up with the bizarre story), relates the compellingly oddball plot at a slow, yet steady pace and ably creates a creepy, edgy, mysterious ooga-booga atmosphere. Strother Martin delivers a wonderfully wicked and robust performance as Doc Duncan, who's the gleefully sinister leader of the evil sect. The top-rate cast of excellent character actors qualifies as a substantial asset: Jones as gruff, no-nonsense Sheriff Hillsboro, Alvy Moore as friendly local Toby, and Charles Robinson as a shrewd, fiercely devout priest Jack. John Arthur Morrill's bright, polished widescreen cinematography, Jamie Mendoza-Nava's spooky score, and the wild, rousing climactic black mass ritual are all likewise up to speed. The idea of having toys come to murderous life is simply ingenious (the opening scene with a toy tank coming real and crushing a family in their car is truly jolting). Nice eerily ambiguous ending, too. A pleasingly idiosyncratic and under-appreciated winner.