There is no dressing it up, this is a bad film. It may not be, as Peter Cushing was to say, the worst film he ever made, but it's laughably bad all told. Out of Tigon Productions, it pretty much is what it is, a cheap attempt at trying to give Hammer Film Productions a run for their money. Now the fact is is that Tigon did manage to churn out some decent horrors, in fact in the case of Witchfinder General one of the true greats of Brit horror, but it's stuff like this that really drags their name down.
Plot is kind of irrelevant since the editing and directing is all over the place, but in a nutshell a "winged" predator is literally sucking the life out of dandy young men in period England. Cushing is the "not so" intrepid copper who can't see the obvious from act 2, and the rest is a sort of reverse Bride of Frankenstein; only with moths! There's a little bit of cleavage, some shrieking and some fiery malarkey, and even a fake play within the play that is actually more fun than the movie!
The effects are awful, where the "moth creature" looks like something that would come last in a fancy dress competition, and the acting away from the ever graceful Cushing is not worthy of an acting credit. Is there fun to be had? Yes, definitely, the whole thing feels like some freaky alternative dream world induced by drinking too much anti-freeze. So get someone to strap yourself up (and by that I mean straight-jacket), imbibe something really potent before hand, and marvel at the sheer incompetence of it all. 3/10