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I happened to contemplate director Paul Morrissey’s “Blood for Dracula” before indulging in “Flesh for Frankenstein.” After having seen both films, I can unequivocally region I preferred “Blood for Dracula,” which is somewhat of a surprise considering “Flesh” was made first with “Blood” coming as almost an afterthought. By the time Morrissey and company started “Blood,” the cast and crew were exhausted from the non-stop schedule of making two films befriend to benefit. If you have microscopic familiarity with these films, they were made under the auspices of Andy Warhol’s Factory, a time when the creator of Op Art decided to branch out into other artistic mediums. If you are like me, you cringed when you heard that Warhol had an influence on Morrissey’s films. I could never bring myself to delight in anything associated with Andy Warhol; I always considered him and his associates talentless hacks of the lowest order. Not to inconvenience here, though. While the titles often carry Warhol’s imprimatur, he apparently had minute to do with any aspect of the production of either film.
“Flesh for Frankenstein” is a unbelievable retelling of Mary Shelley’s classic 1818 new. The apt Baron Frankenstein and his sister, in this instance also his wife, bring up the kiddies in a nice, creepy castle somewhere in Europe. The hardworking Baron spends most of his time mucking around in his laboratory attempting to develop a human being from scratch. Often toiling alone or with his creepy assistant Otto in tow, Frankenstein is on the verge of success when he finally puts the finishing touches on his female creature. The Baron has quite an affection for his experiment, as seen in a few extremely tasteless scenes, but he realizes he has a predicament. What capable is a woman without a man? Frankenstein snappy decides to invent a complimentary male figure so he can have a second family completely subservient to his maintain whims. Why would the pleasant Baron wish to have a second family? Perhaps because he doesn’t seem to earn along with his occupy family all that well.
Meanwhile, Baron Frankenstein’s wife tires of her husband/brother’s heavy workload and his tendency to neglect his children. Being lonely in a sizable castle in Europe wears on a person, so Baroness Frankenstein turns to the hired benefit for consolation. Her observe falls on the newly arrived Nicholas, a rotund stable boy who promises to alleviate the Baroness’s solitude. Nicholas came into the castle after he and his friend, a Serbian planning to devote his life to the priesthood, fell victim to a depraved crime on the road outside of the castle. Nicholas woke up from the assault to eye the attackers decapitated his friend. Angered by the senseless brutality of the crime, Nicholas soon comes to suspect Baron Frankenstein and Otto had something to do with the atrocity. While the stable boy entertains the Baroness, he starts poking his nose around the castle in an disaster to figure out what is going on in the Baron’s laboratory. Everything comes to a head (no pun intended) when Baron Frankenstein introduces his two creations to the family at dinner, and Nicholas notices with panic that his friend’s head rests on the neck of one of Frankenstein’s “visitors.” The servent swears to bring the dreadful Frankenstein and his sick experiments to an destroy, which he does in a finale both cheesy and gory in its execution.
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In “Blood for Dracula,” Morrissey turned Stoker’s narrative of the undead into an examination of class conflict between the decaying European aristocracy and the emerging proletariat. There is a bit of that class emphasis in “Flesh for Frankenstein,” but this movie also deals with the novel themes of Shelley’s fable. The arrogance of man to interfere in territory strictly reserved to God, and the subsequent nightmares resulting from such arrogance, appears throughout the film. Of course, Morrissey also throws in tons of erotica, stomach curdling violence and gore, and the cheesiest dialogue and performances in the history of cinema. You haven’t lived until you behold Arno Juerging (Otto), Udo Kier (Baron Frankenstein), Joe Dallesandro (Nicholas), and Monique van Vooren (Baroness Frankenstein) ham their plan through the movie. Dallesandro makes no difficulty to shroud his thick Current York accent even though the film is ostensibly residence in 18th century Europe. Arno Juerging and Udo Kier dispute camp dialogue at eardrum shattering levels, often with hilarious facial expressions and exaggerated motions. If you appreciate and luxuriate in truly wicked performances, you will esteem “Flesh for Frankenstein.” I know I did, although I deem “Blood for Dracula” was considerable funnier in terms of the campiness of Kier’s and Juerging’s performances. Further enjoyment comes from director Morrissey, who shot the film using lavish costumes, tremendous spot pieces, and pleasurable cinematography. On the surface, you would deem “Flesh” is a favorable production until you inspect how sleazy Kier, Juerging, van Vooren, and Dallesandro perceive and act. A movie like this must have ticked off some serious film aficionados.
The Criterion Collection decided to release this film, as they did with “Blood for Dracula,” with all of the trimmings. Included on this disc are a widescreen presentation of the film, a stills gallery, and a commentary track with Kier, Morrissey, and film critic Maurice Yacowar. I didn’t listen to the commentary in its entirety because I couldn’t stand Yacowar’s nasally insights into the film. If I planned on writing and publishing something about this film I would listen to such overblown pap, but I wanted to design my acquire impressions of the film. Lovers of cheesy films should perform “Flesh for Frankenstein” and “Blood for Dracula” required viewing. Heck, peep them as a double feature and indulge in.
One would be well-advised to effect my warning. This is one of the most violent, perverse, and laugh-out-loud (intentionally) amusing versions of the Frankenstein legend. It’s also one of my well-liked movies (I like it better than its sister production BLOOD FOR DRACULA, though most tend to rate that one a bit higher) and, as far as I’m concerned, the best film to arrive out of the Andy Warhol-Paul Morrisey collaborations of the 60s and 70s. Udo Kier is unbelievable as the enraged Baron Frankenstein, Arno Juerging is tremendous as his idiot assistant Otto, and Monique Van Vooren holds her occupy as Frankenstein’s wife-sister, whose insatiable sexual appetite is fed by hunky Joe Dallesandro. Bad Mary Shelley could never have imagined that one day her Gothic fright current would one day evolve into something as gross as this. But it’s all in suitable fun, as the Baron and Otto sew up resplendent corpses and talk science in the lab. One of the Baron’s hobbies is to accomplish like to his female zombie (Morrisey mercifully spares us the more graphic details in this scene) . He and Otto go to a bordello for the perfect male “whose overriding urges are sensual”. But – oops! – they select the substandard stud to behead. Instead of Dallesandro, they bewitch his friend, an aspiring monk who really didn’t want to be at a bordello in the first plot. When the Baron and Otto earn that their male creature is wintry, the position thickens. This film is NOT for people who are squeamish. The sex and violence is all of such a perverse nature that it isn’t the kind of thing you want to sit down and contemplate with grandma. It’s filled with campy humor and super-gory FX (imagine it as it premiered in 3-D!) . But, in spite of the usual Warhol-crowd tomfoolery, there is a very accurate sense of quality to the proceedings. Gorgeously photographed, with a sumptuous obtain and sparkling period detail, this is a itsy-bitsy too well-mounted to be written off as simply “a camp comedy”. Ironically, the final scene is genuinely tragic! Lively bit of film-buff trivia: This film (as well as DRACULA) was shot at the same time, in the same spot (Italy), and with powerful of the same crew as Polanski’s little-known sex comedy WHAT? . Polanski, who has a brief but hilarious cameo in DRACULA, let Warhol’s crowd travel into his Italian villa, but their eccentricities eventually drove him off. (As he has it in his autobiography: “They were a nice enough bunch, if a bit camp…”)
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