THE INCREDIBLE TWO-HEADED TRANSPLANT
1971
Directed by Anthony M. Lanza

Reviewer’s Note: You’re not likely to come across another positive review of this 1971 cheapo any time soon, but here’s a not-so-secret secret: This film scared the holy flying fuck out of me when I was a kid. I held a horrified fascination with the Transplant—part hulking simpleton, part maniacal sex-murderer--unlike anything in my life. In the ‘70s, it was broadcast on a seemingly annual basis on Sacramento’s KTXL Channel 40, and always on a Saturday, so I would have to psyche myself up for a week after scanning the previous Sunday paper’s weekly TV listings. These airings were self-imposed psychological challenges by which I measured my courage and strength of will: Would I be able to withstand the whole film this year?
Once, in the second grade, I was drawing a picture of all the classic Universal monsters (everyone from Frankie and Drac to the Hunchback and the Gill-man, etc.). The bell for recess sounded and the rest of my classmates filed out onto the playground; I stayed put until I added the Transplant to the pantheon, for fear of showing it disrespect. Suffice to say, the flick had quite an effect on me. And you know what? It still does (the word “transplant” weirds me out to this day).
That Transplant—essentially a variation on the Frankenstein theme—has been roundly panned (if even noticed) by the horror cognoscenti has always struck me as simply bizarre. Director Lanza creates an eerie tension by splicing brief snippets of the film’s more disturbing images into mundane, plot-setting scenes. It’s a brilliant technique--involving the cutting and “transplanting” of actual film. And Bruce Dern turns in an icily creepy performance as Dr. Roger Girard, a surgeon shunned from his former hospital post for conducting unorthodox experiments. You guessed it: He likes to attach extra heads to his test subjects. He’s done snakes, rabbits, foxes, even a monkey, in an attempt to perfect a procedure that will allow him to completely replace one human head for another. Roger’s assistant Max (Barry Kroeger), himself a former surgeon whose hands are no longer steady enough to practice, underscores the practical value of their endeavor. “Only you can give me back those hands, and the body needed to go with them,” he tells Roger, urging him to continue his work and making his own motivation crystal clear. The duo’s chance to experiment on humans comes when they gun-down murderous psychopath Manual Cass (Albert Cole), who’s kidnapped Roger’s wife, the bleach-blonde beauty Linda (Pat Priest; Marilyn of The Munsters fame). Though Cole’s portrayal of the lunatic Cass is simple and one-dimensional—displaying none of the humanistic shading of, say, Anthony Hopkins’ Hannibal--the abduction sequence is particularly chilling: Cass invades the Girard home in broad daylight, murdering their gardener Andrew (Larry Vincent) with a garden hoe and laughing maniacally the whole time. And John Barber’s psychedelic score, laden with fuzzy, tremoloed guitar, perfectly underscores the murderer’s unhinged mind (in the same way guitarist Robbie Krieger’s performance on the Doors’ “Riders on the Storm” seems to signify a killer’s brain “squirming like a toad”).
On the opposite end of the emotional spectrum from Cass is Andrew’s son Danny (John Bloom), a wholly sympathetic, mentally retarded goliath. When not helping his father care for the grounds, he frolics innocently in the countryside and brings flowers to the charming Linda. In the film’s most moving sequence, Danny cradles his slain father, refusing to let go while repeating, “We can still go, Daddy.”
The two emotional extremes come together when Cass regains consciousness to find his head attached to Danny’s broad shoulder. The gruesome twosome proceeds to go on a wild killing spree, the highpoint of which is an epic battle with a pair of bikers, one of them riding his hog and armed with a chain. It’s particularly disturbing to see Danny sobbing and turning away from the carnage as Cass, giggling and licking his lips, mangles body after body. Ultimately, events conspire against the Transplant, helped along in no small part by Dr. Girard’s sensible friend Ken (Casey Kasem). And, as in any good science-gone-awry flick, the overly ambitious scientist must also pay the ultimate price--at least until the sequel. (My eight-year-old mind couldn’t fathom why such a great monster didn’t return, but I certainly rested easier know it never did.)
Obviously, The Incredible Two-Headed Transplant ain’t for everybody, but it’s a far cry scarier than it’s been given credit for, despite its crude special effects and some unintentionally hilarious dialogue (my personal fave lines come during a marital spat in which Roger placates Linda by promising her a vacation):

Linda: But you said that last time.
Roger: You know what happened last time … I didn’t mean it.

Film nerds may be interested to know that that Dern, appearing years later on The Tonight Show, told Johnny Carson that Transplant took only six days to film and that he was never paid for his work. Maybe that’s why there was never a sequel.

Review by Undead Ned.