ROCK & ROLL FRANKENSTEIN
No asterisks (1999, 88 minutes, Rated R)
Warning: This film is not prohibited under the rules of the Geneva Convention.
First, a bit of history: Long before I launched the Bargain Bin Review into the great ocean of
Internetness, I tested the waters with a blog titled "Bargain Basement Reviews." Being
enthusiastic and naive, I actually rated each film on three separate criteria: cheesiness, general
incoherence and gratuitous nudity. And for a short time, it was good.
Until I watched this movie.
I was stunned. Here was a film that had an abundance of cheesiness, incoherence and
gratuitous nudity, yet managed to be the most horrible, joyless movie-viewing experience I've
ever had. Not only did this film single-handedly derail my Bargain Basement Reviews, but it
took me over a year just to muster the nerve to try again.
So now, it's time to take care of some Old Business...
To the creators of Rock & Roll Frankenstein:
I fucking hate you. No, really. Really. This isn't some kind of faux-angry rant -- I really
could see myself chasing you down the street, wielding a 2x4 with a nail in it, for
subjecting the world to your "film."
What kills me is that you had a great premise: Lazy-ass music producer enlists his pre-
med nephew to build a Frankenstein-style being out of famous body parts (Elvis Presley's
head, Jimi Hendrix's hands, etc.). "Frankenstein in Elvis' jumpsuit" is as pure of an
elevator pitch as it gets. And you managed to thoroughly and completely screw it up.
Apparently, you weren't content to settle for bad dialogue, porn-quality acting or sluggish
pacing -- you had to make the movie physically painful to watch. For future reference, the
following items (all played for laughs in this film) are not funny:
In short, this film is practically an argument for abortion. I want those 88 minutes of my
life back, assholes.
nolahn
No asterisks (1999, 88 minutes, Rated R)
Warning: This film is not prohibited under the rules of the Geneva Convention.
First, a bit of history: Long before I launched the Bargain Bin Review into the great ocean of
Internetness, I tested the waters with a blog titled "Bargain Basement Reviews." Being
enthusiastic and naive, I actually rated each film on three separate criteria: cheesiness, general
incoherence and gratuitous nudity. And for a short time, it was good.
Until I watched this movie.
I was stunned. Here was a film that had an abundance of cheesiness, incoherence and
gratuitous nudity, yet managed to be the most horrible, joyless movie-viewing experience I've
ever had. Not only did this film single-handedly derail my Bargain Basement Reviews, but it
took me over a year just to muster the nerve to try again.
So now, it's time to take care of some Old Business...
To the creators of Rock & Roll Frankenstein:
I fucking hate you. No, really. Really. This isn't some kind of faux-angry rant -- I really
could see myself chasing you down the street, wielding a 2x4 with a nail in it, for
subjecting the world to your "film."
What kills me is that you had a great premise: Lazy-ass music producer enlists his pre-
med nephew to build a Frankenstein-style being out of famous body parts (Elvis Presley's
head, Jimi Hendrix's hands, etc.). "Frankenstein in Elvis' jumpsuit" is as pure of an
elevator pitch as it gets. And you managed to thoroughly and completely screw it up.
Apparently, you weren't content to settle for bad dialogue, porn-quality acting or sluggish
pacing -- you had to make the movie physically painful to watch. For future reference, the
following items (all played for laughs in this film) are not funny:
- Liberace's penis.
- Talking penises.
- Watching someone argue with their penis.
- Watching someone masterbate to pictures of cadavers.
- Being gay. (Don't get me wrong, unintentional homoeroticism can be funny and
Lord knows gay people can be damn funny. But having one guy check out another
guy's butt and have his penis lisp, "I'd love to plow that cornhole"? Not funny.) - A pile of dead hamsters encased in condoms, killed by being shoved up a
character's ass. - Anal rape, no matter how big of a prop you use.
In short, this film is practically an argument for abortion. I want those 88 minutes of my
life back, assholes.
nolahn
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