In my own private utopia, whether I'm talking to friends or writing of the cinema, the conversation often meanders to "The Thing With Two Heads," a grade-L schlock fest from 1972. The movie is not bad enough to be deemed "grade Z," because it doesn't take itself too seriously.
Oh, giddy lightness, frolic forth, the bewitched, bothered, and bewildered beheading.
Last summer, as it so happened, we raced 400 miles from the beach, so I could deposit Donna at our house, and then U-turn 100 miles into Atlanta for the evening's dusk-to-dawn Drive-Invasion program at the Starlight Drive-in Theatre.
The pièce de résistance?
"The Thing With Two Heads."
When it comes to no-brainers, I am there.
I snapped this screenshot because I've always been intrigued by people who set off their names with punctuation marks. Is the punctuation actually part of their names? I believe it is.
I spent decades trying to fix up "Rosey" Grier with 'Tippi' Hedren, so they'd make a little %Junior%.
In the flick, Ray Milland, the distinguished Oscar-winning actor of "The Lost Weekend" (1945), is a rich chap who finds his head grafted onto a brother, as the advertisements so deftly described. Here, honor me to recite the whole pitch for you:
"They transplanted a white bigot's head onto a soul brother's body! The doctor blew it -- the most fantastic medical experiment of the age. And now, with the fights, the Fuzz, the chicks and the choppers ...Man, they're really in deeeeep trouble!"
Wow. That's a flashback! Hearing those splendid words again are as powerful today as they were at my wedding.
Have I mentioned how pleased I am that the toupee made it through the transplant unscathed and, apparently, freshly shellacked? The clinical operation on the Milland pelt was touch and go and "more glue" there for awhile.
The above scene is from the very long, action-unpacked motorcycle chase, which provided many out of work stuntmen and stunt fake heads a day's wage.
Somehow, you may have noted, the lads picked up a hitchhiker en route and I have the sudden urge for Double Stuf Oreos. I'll be back after the next photo....
Doesn't she know cigarettes are baddddddd for healthy memories of one's -- or is it two's? -- discarded lungs?
"No, thank you, milady," says Dr. Marshall Kirshner, surgeon, racist, puppet show. "We're gonna need a bigger coat."
"And more quotes," says """Rosey""".
"I've got chum in the oven," says the lass, leading the gentleskulls to a monstrous dinner partay.
No matter how many times I've seen "The Thing With Two Heads," I never fail to come away with the same thrilling, inspirational conclusion.
--Yeah. Yeah. Brotherhood. Tolerance. That, yeah, who wouldn't?
No, what I'm saying is: The turtleneck ... is always ... a happening look.