By: Henry J. Fromage (Six Pack) –
Warning: this review is about as dirty as the movie.
I remember the first Frank Henenlotter film I saw was in high school. My buddy had a talent for uncovering some pretty grotesque cinema, but he really topped himself with Henenlotter’s debut- Basket Case, an evil Siamese twin tale in which the antagonist most resembled a pulsing tumor than anything. That and the “it says it all in the title” Frankenhooker put him on the map as one of the more twisted shock and gore directors out there, but then he pretty much disappeared after 1992’s Basket Case 3.
As did the twin. Hmm…
When my brother uncovered Bad Biology from the Family Video refuse pile, I was surprised to see Henenlotter’s name on the cover. The plot sure sounded like him, but even more devolved- a sexually overdeveloped girl with more clitorises (clitori?) than a Somali dumpster searches for Mr. Right, who just may be the guy with the giant, ‘roided up dick with a mind of its own.
Okay, that last part is pretty standard
Frank Henenlotter makes six-packs. Period. There’s a market for that, as well as a very particular sense of humor it caters to, and Henelotter definitely knows how to do that. There’s so much twisted shit and absurdity that it’s difficult not to be entertained, just a bit. I defy you to stifle the wtf? laugh that the film’s final image is sure to produce.
The girl is a photographer when not voraciously seeking hookups, and finds a way to combine both passions by making wonked out O-face/death masque montages that she calls Fuckfaces. Besides being odd as hell, they’re a nice little precursor to the pretentious babbling to follow.
The girl has another “special” characteristic she conceives and produces a child only a few hours after sex, so we get several freak baby birthing scenes. That, as well as a sequence where the penis escapes, busts through walls, and starts raping random girls is what passes for humor in this movie. I’m not sure alcohol alone can put you in a similar mindset, but you can try.
It helps if you think about the end of L.A. Confidential
The script was co-written by hip-hop artiste R.A. The Rugged Man and features cameos by several rappers who look like they came from Insane Clown Posse cover bands, mostly juxtaposed with creepy vagina face masks. So drink to that.
About that pretension. Ample voiceovers assure us that there is a philosophical element to all of this, some sort of quasi-religious social commentary at work. Is the message about sexual liberation? Women’s rights? Abortion? Exploitation? It’s tough to tell with all of the rampaging cocks.
They’re huge, and they’re angry
At least the movie ends on a high note. After it’s big day, the penis is all tuckered out, which we can see because it’s laying on the ground and wheezing. The girl spouts some spiritual gibberish and then tries to revive it the only way she knows how… which leads to Henenlotter’s “money shot” if you will.
Drink when you see Trogdor
This movie is obviously trying for a Human Centipede-level of notoriety, but pretty much nobody noticed. For my money, it’s even more grotesque, so if that’s your thing…
Bonus Drinking Game
Take a Drink: every time you see a camera
Take a Drink: whenever the penis strikes
Drink a Shot: each time the girl’s vijay produces something