This movie has very little to do with Andy Warhol, who was not involved with the production, but I tend to think this gamy, cheerfully sleazy film works as a fine tribute the icon of Pop Art, for this screwball FRANKENSTEIN is to Mary Shelley what all those Campbell soup cans were to, say, Michelangelo's David.Udo Kier is the titular Frankenstein, engaged in the grisly business of creating Life, etc., etc. He's a shrill, nervous man who humps female corpses while saying things like "To know death, Otto, you must fuck life in the gallbladder!" Meanwhile, Otto (played, with convincing bug-eyed creepiness, by Arno Juerging) keeps himself busy raping the housegirls, though in his zeal to undo their bodices he instead tends to tear open their ribcages. Their big project finally goes into overdrive when Frankenstein acquires the head of some hapless young stud, who they hope to mate with a lovely lady creature. Alas, he turns out to be gay.... Getting the picture yet?
It really isn't a terribly good movie--the "script" was improvised on the set, and it shows--but there's a certain giddy verve behind it all. True, Joe Dallesandro lethargically goes through every scene like he's just crawled out of bed, but that's in keeping with the film's determinedly cheesy tone. This Frankenstein is fundamentally critic-proof; you either appreciate its loopiness or you don't.
The movie was originally in 3-D, and that's why you get all the leering closeups of severed heads and so forth. Luckily, this isn't a case where the film rests entirely on its gimmick; it loses little in home viewing.It's a wonderful bad-taste exercise (wait for the scene where Udo Kier throws his severed hand at the creature), from a decade that saw quite a few of them.