I can only wonder what Mary Shelley would have made of Frankenstein '80, one of the trashier movies to appropriate her classic literary creation for its own ends. Directed by Mario Mancini, this cheesy, sleazy piece of Italian schlock sees Dr. Otto Frankenstein (Gordon Mitchell) stealing a special serum that prevents organ transplant rejection, using it in the creation of a patchwork monster called Mosaic (Xiro Papas), who proceeds to not just kill beautiful women, but rape them too (in an early scene, we see Frankenstein preparing a nice set of gonads for his creature—how thoughtful of him).
With a rampant and very randy monster, there's certainly no shortage of sex and violence in this tasteless and often rather camp horror, but as delightfully deviant as it all sounds, Frankenstein '80 actually manages to be a rather dreary affair for much of the time, thanks to uneven pacing, lifeless performances, a weak script that dwells far too much on the investigative activities of a reporter called Karl (John Richardson), and a lack of decent gore: a lot of the killings are frustratingly bloodless, the surgical scenes are shot from a low angle so as to conceal the fact that Mitchell is pulling the organs from a tray hidden behind the body, and in one particularly inept scene, in which a victim has his head bashed against a wall, the ruptured bag' that provides the squirt of blood can clearly be seen attached to the actor's forehead. Only a brief shot of a severed head in a fridge genuinely delivers the grisly goods.
Thankfully, there is quite a bit of welcome nudity from a bevy of busty women to help alleviate some of the tedium, including a lengthy strip-tease routine that does nothing to advance the plot; but even with all of the bare female flesh on display, Frankenstein '80 is a tough watch, the last half an hour of obvious padding leading up to the monster's inevitable demise being particularly dull.
With a rampant and very randy monster, there's certainly no shortage of sex and violence in this tasteless and often rather camp horror, but as delightfully deviant as it all sounds, Frankenstein '80 actually manages to be a rather dreary affair for much of the time, thanks to uneven pacing, lifeless performances, a weak script that dwells far too much on the investigative activities of a reporter called Karl (John Richardson), and a lack of decent gore: a lot of the killings are frustratingly bloodless, the surgical scenes are shot from a low angle so as to conceal the fact that Mitchell is pulling the organs from a tray hidden behind the body, and in one particularly inept scene, in which a victim has his head bashed against a wall, the ruptured bag' that provides the squirt of blood can clearly be seen attached to the actor's forehead. Only a brief shot of a severed head in a fridge genuinely delivers the grisly goods.
Thankfully, there is quite a bit of welcome nudity from a bevy of busty women to help alleviate some of the tedium, including a lengthy strip-tease routine that does nothing to advance the plot; but even with all of the bare female flesh on display, Frankenstein '80 is a tough watch, the last half an hour of obvious padding leading up to the monster's inevitable demise being particularly dull.