By Hank Reineke
There are, at a minimum, three important lessons gleaned
from the outrageous 1970 sci-fi thriller The
Incredible Two-Headed Transplant. The first and most obvious lesson is that the adage “two heads are
better than one†is simply not necessarily true. The second is that mad scientists, the most
bitter and misunderstood members of the medical profession, tend to a more liberal interpretation of the
Hippocratic Oath they’re sworn to. The
last and perhaps most important lesson: if
you and your best gal find yourself necking in an automobile on a remote
lover’s lane, it might be best to spoon under a good-old fashioned hardtop. Convertibles
are too easily shredded by two-headed maniacs.
Let’s be frank. Anthony
M. Lanza’s The Incredible Two-Headed
Transplant is one weird movie. It’s
not without merit, but it’s surely a film that invites parody and guffaws over
a Coke and tub of hot popcorn. This, I
imagine, is the reason Kino Lorber has offered the choice of a genuine “RiffTraxâ€
audio commentary as an optional supplement. In the interest of full disclosure, I didn’t listen through the mocking
supplement in total. Truth be told, while
I enjoy a cheap laugh or a well chosen barb as much as anyone, I’ve never been
a big fan of the “Mystery Science Theater 3000†or “RiffTrax†phenomenon. It’s not that I don’t find such commentaries humorous
or even, on occasion, insightful… at least when enjoyed in the privacy of one’s
own home. But one can’t ignore that such
burlesque has inspired several generations of idiots to ruin public theatrical
screenings with lame attempts at imitation.
Though a genuine 1970s drive-in theater-exploitation-horror
movie in nearly every regard, The Incredible
Two-Headed Transplant differs from most as it offers not a single spooky
nighttime scene. This might be the only
horror film that I know of that takes place entirely in broad daylight. Co-screenwriter James Gordon White conceived
the film “as a tongue-in-cheek take off on Frankenstein,â€
but I suppose that can be said of practically any horror/sci-fi film featuring
a body on an operating gurney. In some
ways the film, reportedly shot on a budget of $350,000 and a money-spinner for
A.I.P. within six months of release, is an oddity even among that studio’s
deep-catalog of low-budget horrors. Writer White sees the film as a classic “Bâ€
production, while star-player Bruce Dern has infamously dismissed it as a “Zâ€
picture.
It must be said that nearly everything about the film is
schizophrenic, and this extends to the movie’s soundtrack. There’s an early dash of background
instrumentation that offers a Seventies ghetto-soul vibe. But this then contemporary musical element
seems somewhat out of place when juxtaposed against the film’s entirely tranquil
Californian countryside setting. Odder
still is the film’s main title song, “Incredible,†a pleasant but out-of-sync bossa nova vocal number sung by the
otherwise obscure singer Bobbie Boyle. Both interludes start the film off on a weird,
discordant note.
Screenwriter White (The
Glory Stompers. The Mini-Skirt Mob) admits that while writing the non-union
scenario for American-International, he had visualized horror-film maestro
Vincent Price in the role of the crazed Dr. Roger Girard: the part, for
whatever reason, went to a young, lithe Bruce Dern instead. A great actor by any standard, Dern turns in
an uncharacteristically aloof and workmanlike performance in The Incredible Two-Headed Transplant. In his memoir Things I’ve Said but Probably Shouldn’t Have, Dern admits he wasn’t
at all thrilled about the role, but the offer of $3,500 for ten days work was
enough for him and his fiancé to get married on so he signed up. Regardless of the star’s dubious commitment
to the project, director Anthony M. Lanza keeps the film moving along at a good
clip, and it must be said the movie suffers no moments of padding.
The film certainly wastes no time in getting one
involved. We’re instantly transported to
a suburban home where a ghastly act of violence is in progress. With several bloodied bodies littering the
floor, a crazy-eyed psychopath – one with an unfortunate propensity for sexual
violence - is in the process of lasciviously terrifying a young girl. Thankfully, she’s saved from a lurid fate at
the last minute when the police arrive and subdue the madman. Though a prudent judge commits the murderous
rapist, Manuel Cass, (played with wild, eye-rolling fervor by Albert Cole) to a
mental institution “until sanity is restored,†there’s little chance of that
happening anytime soon. It’s not long
after his confinement that Cass murders an attendant and drives off into the
countryside in a sporty 1961 Dodge Comet.
The scene shifts to a seemingly more tranquil
environment. Though wife Linda is
adamant that her husband is a “fine surgeon†who could very well enjoy a
thriving “marvelous practice†if only he… well, put his head to it, Dr. Roger
Girard (Bruce Dern) seems pretty determined to remain less than respectable. Dr. Girard is a man obsessed: he’s single-minded in his determination to
transplant a second head on a human subject. He’s also pretty confident in his ability to accomplish such a task. He’s already succeeded in this endeavor - as
any number of twin-headed caged animals and serpents kept in his home laboratory
can attest. For what purpose, you might
ask? Well, the doctor’s preoccupation in
this matter is never adequately explained. He’s obviously self-interested in creating an unassailable reputation as
one of the scientific greats, but as for the moral complexities of his
twin-head experimentations… well, “future generations†can sort it all
out. The doctor’s suspicious, cagey elder
mentor-assistant Max (Berry Kroeger) mutters something early on about his
protégé being the only one who can restore his damaged hands “and the body
needed to go with them,†so there’s some surgical motive there as well. Dr. Girard, at least at first, doesn’t come
off quite as crazy as Max, but he too
is something of a nut case, quick to impart bitter, disparaging missives on the
small-minded dullards he once worked beside at the local hospital.
Not counting the paying audience, the true victims of The Incredible Two-Headed Transplant are
Pat Priest’s beleaguered Linda Girard and John Bloom’s Danny. As the not-so-good doctor’s luscious wife, any
on-screen appearance of Priest, the lovely and curvaceous former Marilyn
Munster, is welcomed. Sadly, without the
kindly Uncle Herman or Grandpa to watch over and afford her a measure of
familial protection, Priest’s lonely afternoon of poolside sun-bathing is interrupted
when she’s spied upon, kidnapped and near-sexually assaulted by the
psychopathic escapee. Her preoccupied
husband didn’t hear her screams as he was, as usual, puttering away with bad
intent in his hacienda-home laboratory. As awful as Cass manhandles Priest during the kidnapping, it must be
said that the treatment she receives from her own husband is barely
better. In the course of the film Dr. Girard
(all in the interest of scientific secrecy, of course) locks his wife in his
laboratory, gags her mouth, ties her to a bed, performs a needle injection
against her consent, feeds her tranquilizers, and imprisons her inside a large
steel cage… and this is not to mention the not inconsequential emotional abuse
she’s made to endure. But the doctor
promises his wife a nice vacation (“anywhere you wantâ€) after he finishes up
his experiments, so all is good.