At some point during this
mindless gorefest, a local cop knocks on the door of the castle-like mansion
where a mad scientist performs unholy surgery. The scientist answers the door
politely, so the cop makes an inquiry: “You’re not doing anything illegal, are
you?” “No,” the scientist says, “I’m a doctor.” Inexplicably satisfied with
that answer, the cop says, “Well, I hope I didn’t bother you.” Huh? As goes
that idiotic scene, so goes the rest of this unwatchable movie, which is
sometimes known as Doctor Gore.
Written and directed by J.D. Patterson Jr., who also plays the leading role,
the picture concerns a medical man determined to replace his deceased wife with
a simulacrum. Aided by his hunchbacked assistant (yes, really), the doctor
seduces and murders young women, then cuts up their bodies with the intention
of building a new bride for himself. Variations on the same ridiculous presence
are nearly as old as Mary Shelley’s novel Frankenstein
(1818), in which the monster demands a mate, so Patterson doesn’t get any
points for originality. Nor does he deserve praise for anything else—from
acting to directing to writing, everything he does here is inept. For instance,
what’s with periodically cutting to portly country singer Bill Hicks, who
repeatedly croons the song “A Heart Dies Every Minute”? And what’s with those
dull montages of Patterson, as the doctor, making out with curvy young women?
Excepting some quasi-realistic gore, this flick runs the gamut from incompetent
to indulgent. Luckily, Patterson only made one more movie, The Electric Chair (1976).
The Body Shop: SQUARE
Sounds for all the world like an offering from "Monster Chiller Horror Theatre": Dr. Tongue's 3D House of Cut-Up Cuties.
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