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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.
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