“I was born with seven clits. Seven that I know of. Seven that I can feel and touch.“

This is the opening dialogue to the film “Bad Biology“.   The camera rolls and we see a close up of a seemingly innocent young woman in a pink fuzzy turtleneck sweater.  She goes on probing deeper about her bottomless void known as her vagina.   “To some I was the perfect example of permanent sexual arousal syndrome, but to most I was simply the girl with the crazy pussy”.  Director Frank Henenlotter clues the audience from the start that things are going to get obscene.   In fact, this film crosses the line and gets down right disgusting.  This is an exploitation B movie.  You put it on with friends and look at each other saying “WTF? rewind that!”.   This is what you should expect from the man who brought us “Basket Case” (1982) and “Frankenhooker” (1990).  Well audiences may have thought we have seen the last of Henenlotter until Bad Biology, his first film in sixteen years.

Where do you even start with something like this? Frank Henenlotter delivers a perverted and surreal tale that is so twisted you may begin to doubt what you have seen.  “Bad Biology” is trashy, nasty and utterly ridiculous. I watched it twice.  The second time was in preparation for this review.  Should you see this? Do it.  Maybe you’ll enjoy the question being asked at the films core; can mutated freaks of nature find love? In this case, it’s a girl with the seven clits (or more) and a guy with a monster penis.

The issue for the leading lady:

Jennifer (Charlie Danielson) has several clitorises’ that result in her having an overactive vagina which leads to cataclysmic sex.   I would say rough sex, but my idea of rough sex doesn’t involve my head being bashed repeatedly against a hard service during penetration.   However, thank heaven our girl with the crazy pussy happens to be an artist; she’s a photographer nonetheless.  She uses her conquests to her advantage for her art.

The issue for the leading man:

Batz (Anthony Sneed) has a mutated penis.   From here on in I will not refer to it as a penis.  What lives between his legs is a monster cock. By monster, I mean just as frightening as Frankenstein or the Wolf Man.  If the story were solely based upon our young man and his monster cock, it could very well have been a sequel to Frankenhooker (You can come up with your own title for that one).  In one of the scenes concerning Batz, we learn that his hand is simply not doing the job anymore.  Here we even can reminisce on Victor Frankenstein and his homemade laboratory. Our boy has created a homemade machine of metal with wheels and gears.  It’s pumping action is powered by a vacuum and lubed with dishwashing liquid.  This is sadly not the answer to his problem. Furthermore, ladies lookout because if you’ve done it with this guy…you are going out with a bang.

The rest of the film goes to all the places a film probably shouldn’t go.  Death by orgasm.  Vagina faced women descending a staircase.  Mutant freak babies that only take two hours to stew in the belly.  A detachable monster cock roaming the streets, breaking into the homes of naked women, and doing untowardly things to them (a montage of hysterically bad animation set to hip hop music).  And so on.  By the end you will be so grossed out you may actually question what it is you are even watching.  So is the film good or bad? I am going to suggest it is a little bit of both.  What you might think could be the perfect formula for a classic tale of boy meets girl is actually a cautionary tale.  These two should not be responding to each others mating calls.  Lets just say it’s quite the opposite of the perfect match when they finally meet.