Sunday, March 15, 2009
Bad Biology 
“I was born with 7 clits.” The now infamous opening line to Frank Henenlotter’s glorious return to film, or smut and gore depending on whom you’re asking, is stapled to every review, stamped to every brain, and saluted in every cult circle. But I choose to offer yet another line to sum up the experience of Bad Biology…
“This not clever. This is not intelligent. This is not artistic. This is crude, gutter-level filth.”
True, so very fuckin’ true…I smirk in agreeance and glee.
Let me bring you up to speed. Jennifer, the heavenly bestowith of said multiple clits, is “unlike other so-called nymphomaniacs, (her) needs are not psychological, they’re physical”; which make her covet “dick like a junkie needs a fix”. Her unbearable desires and sexual appetite are uncontrollable, leading her to a life of one-night stands, murder and the never-ending search for someone “built differently”. Enter Batz, the hung like a horse and yin to her yang, is a socially awkward, pill popper with an addiction all his own – his dick has an alter ego strung out on steroid and hormone stimulants. Let the games begin!
Henenlotter does it like no one else. Yes, we’ve had some recent vagina-logue horrors – Teeth and Killer Pussy . But Henenlotter pushes the boundaries further and explores new territories.
He’s auteurist, if you’ve ever seen Basket Case, Brain Damage or Frankenhooker, you know you’re watching a Henenlotter film. Dark comedy, eroticism, and wholesome ol’ sex are intertwined with the horror foundation almost seamlessly. Combine that with a a thumpin’ underground hip hop score, an unforgettable, implausible and utterly fucked up storyline, including a detachable penis on a bangin’ spree, vagina faces, a half dozen or so crying mutant babies, and a masturbation contraption that’d put the cybian to shame, and you have one helluva entertaining hour and twenty!