Sci-fi and horror nerds are championing the return of a certain much-beloved low-budget aesthetic heralded by the success of George Miller’s newest installment in the Mad Max franchise, Fury Road, and in the use of practical effects in evidence in trailers for the upcoming Star Wars episode. In the case of the latter film, this reliance on puppets and robots represents a return to the ethos of episodes IV-VI – but one needn’t go back as far as 1977 to see actors interacting with real objects in the same physical space for the sake of thrills.

The films of writer/director Frank Henenlotter, beginning with 1982’s Basket Case, are explicit homages to the earliest splatter and sexploitation films from the likes of Herschell Gordon Lewis and David F. Friedman. Where the pioneers of grindhouse depended upon amateur special effects and over-the-top gore to cheaply bolster the appeal and “realism” of their low-budget fare, Henenlotter’s films use similarly “cheesy” effects intentionally. Henenlotter argues that though they’ve usually been categorized as horror, Brain Damage and Bad Biology, for example, are actually “exploitation” films, a term which he defines as an “attitude” and style which just happen to fit the gory material perfectly.

In this retelling of the classic horror tale of science-gone-mad, the scientist is replaced by an electrician living in his mother’s house in (of course) New Jersey, named Jeffrey Franken (played by B-movie veteran James Lorinz of Street Trash fame). If you remember the original story, the scientist’s first creation is the unsightly monster who, shunned by Dr. Frankenstein, wanders the earth and comes to despise humanity; he is the moral center of the tale despite the crimes he will eventually commit.

Frankenhooker begins with the creation of a similarly “watchful” monster: the first image on screen is a close up on a giant, clearly-fake eyeball planted squarely in the center of a brain; as the camera pulls away, we see Jeffrey Franken’s face on an old mobile-TV screen hooked up to the brain, a demonstration of the eye-brain’s capabilities. This is a perfect introduction to the level of technology at play in the film – and the “morality” to be expected. Keep in mind that T2 will be coming out only one year later.

Following a brightly colored, Braindead-esque opening and the credits, the story focuses on Jeffrey’s attempts to resurrect his fiance Elizabeth, whose chubby body (Penthouse model Patty Mullen in a very 90’s fatsuit) was splattered across a family picnic in a freak accident with a Franken-designed, remote-controlled lawn mower. Hard at work in his garage/lab, Jeffrey mumbles guiltily to himself while doodling switches and currents on an anatomically-correct diagram of a woman’s body, occasionally pausing to take an electrical drill to his own brain for inspiration.

We quickly learn what’s happened to Elizabeth’s “missing body parts” when Franken dons black rubber gloves and removes her head, a hand, and sundry other bits from a glowing purple “estrogen bath” in the ice box; he places the delightfully fake head on the dinner table and promises his sweetheart that she’ll not only live again, but be a new girl, showing her several options: photos of her head pasted to centerfold-worthy bodies. But where to get those body parts?

Here’s where the “hooker” part of the title comes in. Good boy Franken journeys to a seedy part of the “big city across the river” and meets pimp Zorro, who puts together a party of 10 ladies-of-the-night for Dr. Jeffrey to examine and select the perfect girl, who he plans to kill using a little bit of his homemade “super crack.” But those naughty hookers! They find the rock and immediately pull out their stems and light up; the quiet get-together turns into a wild dance party with “the devil’s music,” nudity, and girl-on-girl action.

Franken begs the women to slow down, but it’s too late: they begin to explode, one by one, and the practical effects are on phantasmagoric, giddy display: rather than a gory, bloody mess, each explosion is like a firecracker detonating in the stomach of a mannequin, with flashing lights and flying limbs.

Franken escapes with the body parts bursting from the trunk of his car; from the salvaged pieces he selects Elizabeth’s new look and throws the rest of the leftovers into the estrogen bath. After soldering the pieces together and attaching Elizabeth’s head, Jeffrey performs the all-familiar Frankenstein ritual, using a jerry-rigged electrical set-up and lightning to vivify the patchwork corpse – and, unbeknownst to him, the cooler full of random parts and hormones receive some of the charge. Elizabeth comes alive, but she’s not quite her sweet old self.

Shouting “Want a date? Got any money?” as she lurks and twitches through the city, Elizabeth’s sexy new scantily-clad body draws plenty of attention; when she takes a particularly interested fellow to the ill-fated hotel, she really rocks his world and leaves him in sizzling pieces. After another electric interaction, Zorro begins to piece things together, and follows Jeffrey and Elizabeth back to the workshop. I won’t reveal the ending, but when Zorro gets violent, the cooler pops open, and the creatures that come out are as much Cronenberg as they are Playboy.

As the popularity of the many “making of” films about Fury Road attest, the stories behind films with low-budgets and the “exploitation attitude” are often just as interesting as the films themselves. Henenlotter has spoken frequently about filming in the “rougher” parts of New York City and his many trashy influences and cameos from Zacherley and Shirley Stoler give Frankenhooker real B-movie cred. Frankenhooker uses its low budget for ultimate schlock effect and demonstrates the absolute joy of practical effects.

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