Sometimes you need a film like this: plenty of gore, some boobs, no pretensions whatsoever, stupid ending. Frankenstien '80 (why the '80?) sets out to entertain your brain stem and nothing else, and succeeds admirably. Those seeking a more cerebral film or even a film with any redeeming qualities whatsoever should probably avoid this one.
It's amazing how much time you save in your Frankenstien movie if the monster in question is already up and rampaging when the film starts. There's no scrambling about for body parts here. When the film starts, the monster's out getting his own body parts! That's a nice pro-active approach, you've got to admit, but his creator, Gordon 'Frankenstien' Mitchell, doesn't really agree with this activity. His method is much better – he steals body parts from corpses in his morgue at the hospital, and takes them to his secret laboratory, hidden behind a book shelf in the morgue. Also, he's just stolen a serum from a surgeon that might stop his monster rejecting all those body parts.
Gordon's in a bit of trouble, mind. That serum was intended for the sister of a nosey reporter who was lined up for a heart transplant, and now she's dead, the cops are all over the place, and the reporter is on his trail! Add to that the unintended results of a knacker transplant on the monster (a knacker transplant! Brilliant!) and you've got a good set up for a horny guy who looks like a zombified Mussolini to go on a guts and boobs fest. You've got the monster trying it on with some hookers, the monster trying it on with a stripper, and the monster trying it on with his creator's daughter. Stupid? Awww yeah. Great? You bet!
Featuring gut fondling, heads in fridges, a strip tease act, Gordon Mitchell's face and a rather unwholesome tone about the film that you only find in Italian cinema. Love that abrupt ending too!
