Recreating your girlfriend from body parts of hookers...

There’s a vicious rumour circling that Frankenhooker is a guilty pleasure. It’s not – it is, in fact, a bona fide, warmfeeling- inside, life-enhancing pleasure. You can guess the plot from the title, with the spin being that the necessary body parts are obtained via a strain of crack that causes people to explode.

Sure, the sexual politics of guffawing at prostitutes dying horribly are a little bit iffy, but Frank Henenlotter’s tone is so well-judged, the splatter so well-thrown and the performances so pitch-perfectly ludicrous you’d forgive this film for blowing up your own mother.

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