Directed by: Gerald Cormier
runtime: 87 mins
I believe it was the legendary Irish sportsman Shaquille O’Neal who famously said “necessity is the mother of invention.’ Well in 1990 a man named Gerald Cormier found it absolutely necessary for this world to have a movie where Frankenstein’s monster rips exploding farts.
But if you asked me when I was five years old “Hey, Elliot! You scamp! What do you want to make a movie about?” I would have told you without a second’s hesitation “FARTING FRANKENSTEIN!” And y’know, maybe some people, people like Cormier, just never lost sight of that blissful utopia that could.
So the story goes that Franky, Drak, Mummy, Wolfie, and Humper (the pervy hunchback) were trapped in a cave on a hill after an avalanche some time back. Apparently that didn’t keep Franky from finding cans of chili beans to eat, or keep Humper the pervy hunchback from finding a treasure map under a tree. We learn about this latter fact when the gang is playing poker and Humper bets the map. They quickly decide it’s a treasure map and that they need to search for the gold for some reason that is never explained. Luckily Franky has an exploding fart that blasts a hole in the cave wall. The gang leaves, queueing up the worst rap I have ever heard in my life.
The rap kicks in as Franky and his pals begin walking toward French Gulch to search for gold:
This is a cute little story and I'd like to say
It's about five monsters,one is gay
It's just Franky and his buddies havin fun
See they don't use drugs and they don't use guns
It’s no 2-Pack Shakespeare and it only goes downhill from there as the rap introduces all the characters we already met, and tells the whole story up until this point, which, as a reminder, we just watched.
FRANKY AND HIS PALS starts to feel like a Christian film for children up until the sex “jokes” kick in, which doesn’t take long. And even then it still feels like it was made by a pastor for some reason. Maybe it’s the community theatre acting, the quality of costumes and sets, and the fact that this thing looks tailor-made for the public access channel.
Franky and the gang visit an aerobics class, check into a hotel, and judge a bikini contest at a Halloween party (Those dirty dogs)! Nobody gets killed or even hurt because the monsters aren’t malicious in the least bit. The comedy remains pancake flat throughout as we are treated to “jokes” about Franky’s enormous genitals, and Wolfie’s inability to keep his own at attention. Honestly, FRANKY AND HIS PALS feels like it was written in a linear fashion in a single day by a handful of dads that got progressively more drunk as the script took shape.
So if you haven’t gathered by now, FRANKY AND HIS PALS is no Karloff and Chaney picture. This is the type of movie that usually gets lost forever. It hardly sees a release, people deny its existence, and of course, it never gets upgraded to the next format. But FRANKY AND HIS PALS is a modern miracle thanks to film preservationists out there fighting the good fight, ensuring future generations get to witness this triumph of artistic expression, that ends with the preposterous promise of a sequel.
It may not be great, but you can tell they had fun making it.