You! Yes, you!
You can’t possibly be prepared for this, the greatest shitty movie ever made. You can gird your loins all you want. Strap on your six-shooter. Make a mug of cocoa and pour in dollops of peppermint schnapps. None of this will prepare you for this masterpiece, this mad vision of the world.
Obligatory synopsis that doesn’t begin to do the movie justice: A mad scientist’s love for his girlfriend drives him to keep her head alive in a brownie pan filled with Magic Bosco after he accidentally decapitates her in a car accident. She’s not thrilled with the situation, but she does make a new friend—a creature the mad scientist created who lives in the closet, a big ol’ huggable mass of reanimated amputated limbs. So there’s kind of a love triangle going on here. Plus, she torments Kurt, the mangled surgeon kept as a pet man by the mad scientist. Meanwhile, the mad scientist goes shopping for a new body for his girl at strip clubs, because that makes perfect sense.
Put on your trench coat, button it up to your neck, and put a fresh flash cube in your Instamatic. Snap as many photos of the stripper fight as you dare! You know you want to, sleeze bag!
I’ve taken dialogue from TBTWD and have transformed it into a love poem for this vastly weird movie. Please to enjoy…
you’ve lost the urge to experiment, to explore
the line between genius and obsessiveness is thin
you’re walking on thin ice, bill
what’s the mystery, bill?
I don’t have time to argue, kurt
don’t you want to see what’s in the closet?
my eyes are deceiving me!
what’s done is done and what I’ve done is right
she’ll live and I’ll get her another body. I’ll restore her as she was before.
you took long enough getting back here
I liked your act
is that all?
you’re no tourist looking at the sights
you could flip any chick in the house, why me?
keep your g-string on
you cheap birdbrained stripper!
I remember fire! let me die!
knock twice if I’m not the first
you! in the closet! what’s he done to you?
behind that door is the sum total of bill’s mistakes. before he injected the serum…
it was a mass of amputated limbs
the alcoholic has his bottle, the dope addict his needle, I have my research
all work and no play makes for a bad bedside manner
bill’s egotism drives him on and on, from outrage to outrage
I hate all men!
today, nothing’s hopeless
I’m not afraid of you, a head in a pan!
am I so appealing to you now?
do I look like a maniac who goes around killing girls?
is it a crime to want to keep you alive, to jump science ahead by years?