BAD BIOLOGY

It wants to lunge for clunge… obtain a stash of gash…. can’t get enough of muff.. it’s on the hunt for… 

CHALLENGE KAYLEIGH: CHALLENGE NUMBER 8
 
BAD BIOLOGY

 
 
Quick refresher on the concept of this page – I’m Kayleigh and I boasted that I love horror so much that I can find merit in any horror film, regardless of how poor it’s perceived to be. People leave me film review suggestions in the comments, and I comply. If you suggest a film that’s so bad that I can’t find good things to say about it, then you win stuff. Yay! As of yet, I’m undefeated….
 
So. Bad Biology. Where do I even begin? Firstly, I should thank you, John Linwood Grant, for this challenge. It has changed my life.

 
This comedy/horror looks like it was made in the 90’s, but it was released in 2008. It’s brought to you by Frank Henenlotter (known for his cult classic, Basket Case, 1982), and the rapper R.A ‘The Rugged Man’ Thorburn. This film features other rappers and ladies from the adult entertainment industry, and it stars a virtually unknown musician who has appeared in a ‘Rugged Man’ music video, and – and this is my favourite casting decision of all time – a dude they found on MySpace. Seriously.
 
I’ll warn you now that there are going to be major spoilers because I can’t wait to give you a blow-by-blow account of the second half of this film. Apologies in advance for the volume of references that I’m going to have to make to genitals, but there’s really no avoiding it. To my dear mother, if you’re reading this, this is so much worse than my Cradle of Fear review. Please continue to love me for I am still your darling child.
 
This film operates in two sections: the first half is a scathing comment on societal issues regarding sex education, the objectification of women, and the role that rap culture plays in the fallacies of appropriate sexual conduct projected to, and absorbed by, today’s young adults, and is a general slur against the intelligence and integrity of men in general; the second half gives us the embodiment of the accumulation of all these issues in the form of a literal rogue monster penis on a sexual and murderous rampage.
 
We begin with Jennifer (Charlee Danielson), and the first line in the film is -  “I was born with seven clits”. She continues with an inner monologue about her difficulties in finding sexual fulfillment, and feeling outcast because of her ‘deformity’, though you’ll struggle to hear a word she’s saying because of how the background sound is mixed. This ‘sound problem’ occurs several times throughout the first half of the film, though you might notice that each time the background music shouts over the dialogue, it’s rap music. Now, I don’t claim to know anything whatsoever about rap music – the extent of my immersion into rap culture was my Eminem obsession when I was in my teens. What I did learn though is that whilst Marshall rapped about ‘homosexuals’, Dre was rapping about ‘big screen TV’s and bitches’, yo. After a research stint, I discovered that typically, mainstream rap music is mostly about violence and all dem bitchez. Though there are women in rap, the genre is also predominantly male. I devoured hours of lyrics from multiple sources and reached the conclusion that in rap, there’s a different word for ‘woman’, and that word is ‘ho’. Or is it ‘hoe’? The spelling differs. Anyway, in rap world, hos are not to be treated like people because they are sexual objects that exist purely for the sexual gratification of men. I mention this because it changes the context of the ‘sound problem’, which I’ve concluded, is not a mistake, but rather a deliberate technique used to highlight how women’s voices are silenced in a misogynistic world.
 
Jennifer herself enforces the view that women are to be enjoyed but not valued, and objectifies herself more than any of the men could ever hope to. There’s a scene in which she’s shooting photographs of some dudes fawning over a woman’s face, but her face is covered by a vagina mask. A VAGINA MASK. I tried to find a picture of this, but alas, I failed. The model is offended, as is a female spectator, who finds the whole concept degrading – which it is. The scene illustrates that women have no personalities and are only to be admired for their giant face vaginas, and that men have no desire to see anything about a woman that isn’t her vagina. Vagina. Vajayjay. Vag. It’s an insult to men and women everywhere, but Jennifer doesn’t see it that way at all. Since her whole life revolves around seeking out a sexual partner who can finally satisfy her (oh, did I mention that she has a tendency to kill the men she sleeps with, usually out of the panic that they’ll discard her after the deed?), it’s not a huge leap to interpret that she believes that her only real function in life is to …. Erm…  (I’m so sorry, mum)… gobble penis with her freak vagina. Raised in a society where woman are valued solely on their sexual prowess - and ‘valued’ is a strong word - this is a tragic woman who can’t help but feel like her life’s mission is penis.  After all, her most distinguishable feature is her crazy hoo-har.
 
And speaking of her vagina, it’s all wrong. She says ‘seven clits’, but what we’re shown (via a hilarious internal view) is more in the G-spot region. When you pair this anatomical mistake with amusing sex scenes that look like they were choreographed and directed by someone with a ten year old boy’s interpretation of what sex is (slamming body parts together with no insertion of.. anything.. and lots of unnecessary rolling), you could draw the conclusion that the male writers just have no idea of how things work. Perhaps no one ever sat them down and had the talk with them. However, this theory is thwarted by the random appearance of some dude in a junkyard that spins off a bizarre rant about the degradation of women’s morals, and the decline of society in general. With all these elements combined, it’s likely that all of this is one, gigantic, intentional joke about dudes having no clue how to treat their lady friends, in any way, context, or situation.
 
This film isn’t hollow trash – it’s a genius parody of our whole culture, created by rappers who are turning the tables on their own subject matter, on their industry, on the fans, and on themselves. They’re telling us that they’re self-aware, that even they don’t buy into what they’re selling; the message is so outdated that it’s become hilarious.
 
Speaking of hilarious, we now move to the second half of the film – the monster schlong. There’s comedy horror and then there’s this – I haven’t laughed this much since Airplane!. I firmly believe that the first half of the film was saying something, or at least, trying to say something. It acknowledges that in particular ways, men and women are still not equal, particularly in regard to sexual double standards. It makes light of the issue by reflecting it in ridiculous ways that parallel how ridiculous the reality of this problem is. The second half is a straight up monster horror with many laughs.
 
Picture, if you will, an attractive man named Batz (what?!), the kind that should be getting all the ladies. Due to some sort of misunderstanding at birth, instead of snipping his umbilical cord, the doctor (a qualified doctor, mind you) got confused and snipped off his penis instead. Don’t panic everyone, because they simply reattached it, but thanks to the injury, our dear Batz could never achieve an erection. He does the only logical thing in this situation, and that’s to spend years injecting his penis with millions of steroids. Naturally, this results in his penis becoming absolutely massive – we’re talking about the size of a baby graboid from Tremors. Oh and also, it is self-aware, speaks to him on a regular basis, and makes all kinds of threats. Because… that’s how steroids work I guess.
 
After a classic argument, the monster penis decides that enough is enough and goes rogue by simply detaching itself from Batz (balls and all) and slithers off on an epic - and I mean epic - search for all the vagina it can find. It wants to lunge for clunge… obtain a stash of gash…. can’t get enough of muff.. it’s on the hunt for… but I digress. What follows is a horrifying sequence of the monster penis bursting through floorboards, blasting through brick walls, barreling through skirting boards (I swear, this actually happens). Every time it finds a woman (who is always naked, how bizarre), it slithers over. At first the women are afraid, but once the penis is.. in.. (there are sound effects to let us know it’s reached its goal - delightful), they can’t get enough. And I think they die of orgasms, which I guess isn’t the worst way to go.
 
Just when you don’t think you can laugh any harder, Jennifer seeks out the monster penis because it’s some sort of kindred spirit, and finds it lying on the ground struggling to breathe. Yep, you read that right. So she does what one would typically call ‘chest compressions’ and even gives the thing mouth to mouth… and eventually resorts to pumping it full of drugs. Cured, the monster penis turns on her, there’s a stand off, and then it has its way. She is finally satisfied and therefore, complete, and promptly dies. Oh and then immediately gives birth to a monster baby/monster penis hybrid.
 
You might have noticed that I haven’t bothered to interpret anything that happens after the penis goes rogue. It’s fairly obvious that the rogue penis is a visual metaphor for the insinuation that men can’t control their penises. It’s also a visual representation of the fallacy that all women want are massive, huge, dongs. Average penis sizes need not apply. Because hos be all about dat dick, yo… oh forget it, I can’t speak rapper.
 
Do not watch this with anyone you wouldn’t be comfortable watching a standard sex scene with, but please, I implore you all…. Watch it. It’s cheap, yes, some of the effects are terrible, yes, but by all that is holy and horrific, this is one of the funniest things you will ever witness. I actually rate it, I really do.
 
Thanks again for your challenge, John. This was the most fun one yet! If anyone has a challenge for me, please let me know.
 
Peace out peeps, word to my bros and hos, and in the wise words of… someone… in this film… “Ya dig me, pygmy?”

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