The Incredible 2-Headed Transplant

It seems funny that for all the well-deserved plaudits this grade-Z gem attracts, nobody mentioned the great performance by the actor playing Danny's father, Larry Vincent! That's right, none other than "Sinister Seymour" himself doing the honors as good old Andrew Norton, the doc's faithful gardener in one of his too-few appearances on the big screen. All I can say is, if you were too young to remember the early 70's, you definitely missed one the best things about watching late-night TV in Los Angeles. Long before MST3K or Elvira, Seymour's "Fright Night" on Saturday nights was THE thing to watch. Nowadays, if I see "-Transplant-" in the local listings, I turn it on in the first fifteen minutes (before the killer gives him a messy send-off with a garden hoe) just to watch his rare talent. Ah, Larry, you left us too soon...

An absolute riot. The kind of movie Edward Wood could only aspire to make. And Bruce Dern is always worth watching. No matter the quality of the movie, there's just something about the guy that guarantees a good time.

Casey Kasem, Marilyn Munster, Bruce Dern, and Seymour in a campy horror cheapsterpiece that is good for some laughs.

Bruce Dern is a mad doctor/scientist, and of course, nobody has ever seen a mad scientist in a movie before. He concocts a plan to take a dead head off one guy, and surgically attach it to another guy. Neither he nor you will ever know why he wants to do this, but it provides the backbone for this juicy camp novelty, that looks to have been made on a budget of about ten bucks, and two S&H green stamps. Casey Kasem was not doing a top 40 show or Scooby Doo cartoon that week, so he drops by. He's a colleague of Dern, but not nuts like Dr. Dern is. I love the scenes where our hero, Dr. Kasem, turns on the radio, to listen to his own voice doing the radio news announcer. Pat (Marilyn Munster) Priest is the blonde bombshell romantic interest (of more than one character, if you catch my drift). And of course, the two-headed transplant: both actors combine to actually give this awkward looking beast some real emotion.

They're all good, in a campy way, but a special treat this movie had was a popular local late night horror host seen here in L.A. in those days, named Larry "Seymour, the Master of the Macabre" Vincent. He used to offer up golden turkey monster flicks, in order to poke fun at their awfulness, MST3K style. He roasted himself for doing "Transplant," although his all-to-brief screen before making a routine horror film exit, was actually pretty good acting. Sadly, Seymour died fairly young, leaving this as one of his few film appearances.

The idea is goofy, but the script has enough going on that the actors can work with it. They all seem to have had fun making the flick, too. Considering the z-budget, it's not bad at all. This can actually be entertaining if you go in expecting dumb but amusing camp.

There's no doubting this is a very bad film by anyone's standards, but it isn't without some entertainment value. Bruce Dern – clearly on his uppers back in '71 – takes on the mad scientist role with such laid-back indifference to the part that his performance alone is worth the cost of the rental or purchase or ninety minutes of your life. Never will you see an actor so clearly embarrassed by the rubbish he has somehow found himself saddled with or trying so hard to appear invisible. Dern speaks each of his lines with a kind of preternatural calmness that leaves you wondering whether some underhand producer hasn't drugged him so that he believes he's floating through a dream. His character is assisted by Max (Berry Kroeger) who, quite frankly, is the creepiest thing in the film – like a strange uncle whose lap your mum warns you not to sit on when you're a kid…

The plot follows the typical monster-movie template. Once again our monster is stitched together from people's body parts in a fortress-like laboratory to which access is denied to the good doctor's long-suffering wife (Pat Priest). But, unlike Frankenstein, this is no meditation on the dangers of man playing God, rather than a frank attempt to titillate undemanding teens. Of course, wifey can't resist having a peek in the lab and before you can say 'don't open the door!' she's opened the door and – well, I'm sure you can get the rest.

The poor simpleton who has a maniacal killer's head grafted onto his neck (don't you hate it when that happens?) is something of a giant, and he's filmed from a low angle so that no money has to be spent on special effects. I'm sure Messrs Bloom and Cole must have been pretty close friends by the end of the shoot. Of course the killer quickly becomes the dominant partner and forces his neck-mate to embark on a killing spree. He lumbers around the countryside, chancing upon necking teenagers and wasted bikers who, for some reason, find it impossible to outrun him and, cackling wildly, summarily dispatches them for no apparent reason other than he's completely bonkers.

The single moment of any worth in the film is the point at which director Anthony Lanza cuts away from the murder of the female biker, just as those brainless cackles are beginning to rise. It's a moment of restraint totally at odds with the rest of the movie.

A maniacal killer's head is fused to the lumbering, gargantuan body of a man with the mind of a small child by a scientist who just happens to specialize in fusing two-headed creatures in his spare time. Why? He says to show everyone what a genius he is. Why on Earth would anyone want to create a monster with two heads - neither containing the brain of anything remotely resembling worthiness? Such is the premise in this bizarre, fascinating, and God awful film made in 1971. Bruce Dern plays the "mad" scientist with decided disinterest. Can you blame him? He strolls around with drink in hand and never shows any real depth of character. By the film's end, his performance just caves in. The two-headed monstrosity, which battles bikers on bikes wielding chains and has a cumulative IQ of 60, is a true sight of ineptitude to behold. John Bloom, who would later get an even worse role as Frankenstein's Monster in Al Adamson's horrendous opus Dracula Vs. Frankenstein, plays Danny - a hulking man that lost his mind when he was left for dead in a mine shaft years ago. Now an adult, Danny is dutiful to his father, is treated like a mental defective by all concerned, and sweats a lot. The head of Albert Cole, a man who we see leering or laughing with crazy glee, is attached when Cole tries to rape Dern's wife(more on her in a minute) and kills Danny's father. Dern and his limp-wristed former surgeon assistant(Barry Kroeger) feel the time is right to make a two-headed freak with the body of Cole at their disposal and the mentally deficient Danny just there. This movie is a real hoot to sit through as every minute in bad - bad but fun. The story stinks. Director Anthony Lanza has little savvy. The production values virtually non-existent(although the head thing looks better here then some of the other two--headed monsters of the same era). Acting? What acting? C'mon - Casey Kasem as a doctor/hero? Dern looks like he lost a bet and had to be in the picture. Cole is annoyingly disgusting and ridiculous. Bloom is okay at best. But I really liked Pat Priest as Dern's wife. She sure didn't give a great performance, but she made a believer out of me as she fainted(several times), ran from crazy Cole, lounged in a chair by the pool, laid in bed either of her own accord or bound and gagged, and finally was tied and put in a cage in the lab - all in either a bikini, a small nightie, or some other light attire that showcased her attributes, the brightest things about this dreadful dreck. This movie is very, very bad, and I must confess I loved every minute of it. I laughed and laughed and laughed. Just hearing that soundtrack where every beat foreshadows something suspenseful will happen and rarely does. Or how about the dialog used in the picture? Whew! This is one of the all-time great of le bad cinema.