Welcome back Comets! The scent of love permeates the air, or is that the lingering haze of gamer musk emanating from the Student Union? Regardless of its origin, we here at AMP understand that love can get a little messy sometimes — or very messy in the cases of these films. Whether you’re looking for companionship in the form of a woman assembled from the exploded remnants of several sex workers, or you believe that eldritch breast augmentation surgery will cure your ails, these films demonstrate how sometimes the real monster is inside us all along… sexually speaking, of course.
Frankenhooker
“Frankenhooker” (1990) is a horror/comedy film directed by Frank Henenlotter which follows the story of a humble New Jersey electrician named Jeffrey Franken (played by James Lorinz) and his beautiful fiancé Elizabeth Shelley (played by Patty Mullen). The couple are soon to be wed, but unfortunately Elizabeth is turned into ground beef when Jeffrey’s remote controlled lawn mower loses control and goes woodchipper mode on her. Instead of learning from this tragic and incredibly humbling experience, Jeffrey sets out to revive his dear fiancé by salvaging what parts of her he can and combining them with the parts of other women.
Upon my first viewing of this film I concluded that “Frankenhooker” is to “Reanimator” as “Twilight” is to “Nosferatu” — it makes for a fun watch, but one is clearly a better representation of the genre than the other. I just wanna emphasize how truly stupid this movie is. There’s this recurring bit where Jeffrey recreationally lobotomizes himself using a power drill and pokes it into areas in the back of his head to… well, actually I have no clue why he does this. Sometimes he does it to generate new ideas when he’s stuck, sometimes he does it to calm down and think clearer. It’s weird and it’s never explained, but he sure likes doing it. Perhaps some of us could also benefit from a drill lobotomy.
Anyway, Jeffrey eventually finds his “spare parts” in the form of some sex workers that he meets. He hires them for a job but he’s too much of a wuss to murder them like a real man, so he decides to kill them indirectly by manufacturing “super crack” that causes anyone who smokes it to explode. If you’re wondering what stance this movie takes on sex work and drugs the answer is I Don’t Know And Neither Does The Movie.
Side note: When one of the women finds the bag of super crack she holds it up and exclaims “Oh my god, it’s super drugs!” and my question is WHAT ARE SUPER DRUGS? Why are we acting like they’re an established phenomenon? Do they all just… make you explode? Is super weed real? Will I die if I smoke super weed? These are all questions to consider.
So our dearest Jeffrey explodes several prostitutes and gathers all their limbs and other viscera into garbage bags, escaping into the night. It turns out that Jeffrey converted his garage into this crazy Frankenstein-esque lab so he’s finally able to begin piecing his beloved back together. Lots of blood, sweat, and mysterious purple liquid later, Elizabeth is reborn! Although she’s a bit scrambled since she’s made from the parts of seven different women now. Upon waking up, Elizabeth backhands Jeffrey so hard it knocks him out (girl me too) and she escapes, determined to paint the town red — literally. Every man she snags ends up exploding from her awesome electric hooker powers. She’s like a sexy warlock, cursed with the power of storms to instantly vaporize any man she has sex with.
The film concludes when Jeffrey is beheaded by the pimp whose prostitutes he exploded — BUT WAIT! As much as I would’ve loved if they’d ended it there, Jeffrey ends up getting frankenhookered! Elizabeth saves him by reattaching his head onto the body of a prostitute, with help from the notes that Jeffrey kept in his lab. This is played as a gag, obviously, but I’d like to think they lived a life of lesbian bliss together afterward. I know they’re both cishet, and I don’t care. Jeffrey got forcibly feminized and I think more films with annoying men should end that way. My only major complaint is that Elizabeth had far too little screen time since she’s introduced over halfway into the film’s runtime. She’s Frankenhooker for god’s sake, she should be in the spotlight! Not Jeffrey! Everybody say fuck Jeffrey!
All in all, I’d say “Frankenhooker” is worth watching for laughs if nothing else. It’s an example of schlocky 90’s horror at its near-finest and every minute was a blast, some of them literally!
Killer Rack
The gift to film known as “Killer Rack” (2015) has a special place in my heart for many reasons. One could argue that it was director Greg Lamberson’s attempt at a subversive feminist masterpiece, but really it’s just 90 minutes of pure, dumb fun filled with gratuitous boob jokes and charmingly scuffed-looking practical effects. In other words, it’s everything I’ve ever wanted out of a film.
Our protagonist is a working woman named Betty (played by Jessica Zwolak), and she’s got a big problem — or maybe too small of a problem depending on how you look at it. The truth is that Betty’s breasts are incredibly tiny. Miniscule. Practically microscopic as far as anyone else in her life is concerned. This is an issue because in her universe the only thing anybody even remotely gives a hoot about is cup size.
Her job at Double D Collections is going terribly. Her boss doesn’t respect her, her peers sneer at her, and her only friend is a guy named Tim (played by Paul McGinnis) who’s the only person that bothers to treat her like a human being. She can’t even catch a break in her personal life! Strangers spray paint words like “flatty” and “boy” on the door of her apartment (I wish someone would do that to me) and Betty’s shitty boyfriend turns his nose up at her whenever she tries to initiate sex with him. Betty just can’t catch a break, but she can do something about those frustratingly humble tits of hers… plastic surgery!
After seeing an advertisement on TV for Dr. Cate Thulu’s plastic surgery clinic, Betty gives in to curiosity and arrives for a consultation. She’s greeted by a mad scientist-looking woman covered in blood, rolling around on the floor of the waiting room in frustration after losing yet another patient. Upon seeing Betty, Dr. Thulu (played by Debbie Rochon) immediately perks up. Unbeknownst to Betty, we learn that Dr. Thulu’s mission is to revive Mamora, an eldritch demon who feeds on lust. She’s been trying for years to find an appropriate vessel for the monstrosity, but all her attempts have failed… until now.
After a bit of convincing, Betty eventually agrees to go through with the operation and it turns out to be a success. Where so many women before her have perished, Betty conquers her destiny by obtaining the largest pair of prosthetic mammaries you’ve ever seen in your goddamn life. They’re so big they stick out almost a foot from her sternum and throw off her balance. They’re beasts — in this case literally.
Betty’s life turns around at first. Her boss promotes her, her coworkers stop making fun of her, and her boyfriend even pays attention to her now — that is, until he mysteriously loses his hand in an “animal attack” after trying to grope Betty while she’s asleep. Yelling obscenities at her as he’s wheeled off to the hospital grasping the stump where his hand once was, he proclaims that their relationship is through. Good riddance, I say. She was clearly out of his league.
Other than that, Betty’s life is going fantastic. However, these jugs harbor secrets… every night when she falls asleep, Mamora possesses Betty’s body and heads out to entice men into having sex with her so Mamora can eat them alive. As the mysterious and grisly disappearances rack up, the police become suspicious and so does Betty. She doesn’t want to believe it, but all signs point to her as the culprit.
In a panic, Betty returns to Dr. Thulu’s clinic and learns the truth — she’s harboring a demon of lust within her bosom, literally. Betty tries to fight Mamora’s power, but it’s simply too much for her to overcome on her own. After one more sacrifice falls to Mamora’s jaws, Betty is fully taken over and Mamora rises once again to wreak havoc on this mortal plane.
In the film’s climax (tee hee) we’re treated to the dumbest showdown of all time between Betty and half the neighborhood. Her fully awakened demonic tatas mow down everyone in her path until a challenger emerges: Tim! He proclaims his love to her and Betty reawakens, wrestling back control from the jezebel inside her. Grabbing an underwire bra from one of Mamora’s victims, Betty slays the eldritch monstrosity by containing it within its oppressive cups. Mamora explodes in a burst of goo and our lovebirds live happily ever after in a grimy alleyway filled with human remains. Yay!
There’s so much more to the film than what I’ve described here — including a musical number where Betty’s therapist sings the line, “I’m scouting the mountains for lactose fountains,” and many more equally ridiculous lyrics. Overall “Killer Rack” is a fun, unserious, and charming film perfect for inviting a few friends over to watch and laugh with you. Praise be to Mamora!
