Doctor Gore (1972)

Doctor Gore (aka – The Body Shop) (USA, 1972) 83 min color DIR-PROD-SCR: J.G. “Pat” Patterson Jr. DOP: Harry M. Joyner. MUSIC: William Girdler. CAST: “Don Brandon” (aka- J.G. “Pat” Patterson Jr.), Jenny Driggers, Roy Mehaffey, Bill Hicks and the Rainbows. (Majestic International)

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Near the end of my teens, I underwent a “horror gore” phase for a couple of years, and would rent whatever horror films I could find in my small town. Still hungry for more, I would haunt the newsstands for the latest issues of Horrorfan, Gorezone, and of course, Fangoria (years before the leading horror mag became an eye-scouring crime to InDesign). 

I was especially taken by a Fangoria interview with movie mogul Jeffrey C. Hogue, who had acquired some oddball 1970s regional productions for release on home video. Among these was a film formerly known as The Body Shop, which was already available in a Paragon big box VHS. He retitled it Doctor Gore, and shot a five-minute introduction by the “Godfather of Gore” himself, the legendary Herschell Gordon Lewis. I mostly knew Lewis from whatever I had read in horror magazines, though by then I had seen his infamous Blood Feast, the film which rose the bar for screen gore. Lewis’s friend J.G. “Pat” Patterson (once an assistant on such late-period Lewis projects as Just for the Hell of It, How to Make a Doll, and She-Devils on Wheels) had written, directed produced, starred in, and did the makeup effects for The Body Shop (aka- Doctor Gore), and as such was touted by Hogue as “an early gore item”. 

That was enticement enough for me! A few months later, I happily picked up the United VHS release of Doctor Gore once I spotted it in the 99 cent rental rack at the Hillcrest grocery store out in the sticks.

Let me tell you something. You learn a lot about life in the movies you rent for 99 cents in gas stations, country grocery stores, or even the back rooms of mom and pop video outlets. I’ve christened these “Gas Station Movies”.  

These are flicks with titles like Frozen Scream or Escape from Blood Plantation: stuff that only seemed to be for rent in places “off the main drag”, that would collect dust until some daredevil viewer like yours truly would plunk down their hard-earned BiWay money to watch them. These artifacts of cast-off culture and outsider art were quite often fool’s gold, but such was the price paid for rolling the dice on renegade productions like these. Whatever their failings, these are the kinds of movies which go for broke, and don’t play it safe. They are desperate movies made by people with no rule playbook, except to take a shot at competing for your entertainment dollars. 

Make no mistake. Doctor Gore is fools gold! The film is impressive for its makeup effects, but otherwise is an inert, lifeless affair with shoddy production values. But still, it is unusual enough that it has lingered in memory all this time. So, when Andy had this VHS for sale at his private tape sale a decade ago, of course I picked up. When Queen Video had the Something Weird DVD at their closeout sale a few years ago, of course I picked it up! (A boatload of other SWV releases came from that Queen Video haul, which will eventually appear in this column.) Still, I didn’t want to rely on a decades-old memory, so I “took one for the team”, and revisited this film for this review. The things I do for you guys, I tell ya!

Director Patterson, acting under the pseudonym of “Don Brandon”, plays a mad scientist and plastic surgeon named Dr. Brandon (yup, it’s that kind of movie), who loses his wife Anitra in a car crash. He then decides to “rebuild” her as the perfect female, composed of different body parts from various women he lures through hypnosis and eventually kills. He gets help from his trusty cigar-chomping hunchback lab assistant Greg (Roy Mehaffey), who has the easiest role because he just makes unintelligible grunts through the whole movie. Once Anitra is assembled however, she begins to lust after every man she sees, much to the disappointment of Dr. Brandon. 

This is an oddball regional spin on the Frankenstein legend, where the doctor instead makes a bride for himself. There is a whisper of satire in his “bride” diverting her attention from him onto every pair of pants that she sees. Even Greg becomes an object of her affection, and the poor guy gets a jealous axe in his hump for his trouble. Still, at 83 minutes, this film is endless! At first it is amusing for its minimalist attempts at artiness, but it just becomes a tedious exposition of wordless montages featuring Dr. Brandon’s wooing of the fairer sex, including a secretary played by someone named Candy Furr. (Now there’s a great handle for an adult film star!) The inevitable laboratory footage, while technically impressive, lacks any kind of impact. There is no suspense, no sense of pace or rhythm.

One could say that this film is more of an excuse for Patterson, shall we say “an unconventional leading man”, to film himself with several gorgeous women. But I’m more inclined to think that Patterson was filming a spoof that just failed miserably. One humorous moment that does work, even though it is filmed in a screamingly long two-shot, is when Brandon is confronted outside a restaurant by a woman he knows. She consoles him over his dead wife, and clearly exhibits her interest in other things. The joke is, the one woman who would jump his bones without hypnosis, gets the brush-off by Brandon, who nervously says he’s late for an appointment. In truth, he’s waiting for another woman who he just hypnotized inside the restaurant. Once this acquaintance takes the hint and leaves, Brandon makes a “whew” expression on camera. 

The one truly memorable visual moment occurs very late in the production, in a layered decoupage of images when the doctor goes mad in a sanitarium. Meanwhile Anitra thumbs a ride from a willing truck driver, while the film’s theme song plays on.  And on.

That music is composed by, of all people, William Girdler, who directed a handful of 70s drive-in horrors, including Abby, Grizzly, The Manitou and another regional oddity soon to appear in this column! This tinny keyboard variation of “What Little Girls Are Made Of” (with a melody lifted from “My Favourite Things”) is drilled into your cranium so much, that it remains an earworm for days later – years, even.

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Any regional production worth its salt will feature some “where are they now” local talent: in this case a generous showcase for the gentle country pop stylings of Bill Hicks and the Rainbows, during the restaurant scene. Seriously – who is this guy? I even looked him up on Discogs, to no avail. (They instead had the late comedian named Bill Hicks.)

The appeal of regional films is also the sense of time and place. This one liberally uses exteriors of the historic Overlook Castle in Asheville, North Carolina, to establish as the mansion where Dr. Brandon does his experiments. (The previously mentioned scene outside the restaurant I think was shot there too, just with some patio lights added.) 

So, what makes this a ”gas station” movie? Consider the aesthetic choice to depict the car accident in a scene featuring a guy at a riverside park hearing about it from his radio on the picnic table! (“Coming up next, music by Bill Hicks!”) Or how about the needless inclusion of a scene in which Brandon answers his door one evening and a county mountie asks him if he has anything illegal going on in there? The county mountie (who of course never appears on camera with Brandon) is shot in daylight(!), and is probably footage from another movie. (Credit where credit is due- kudos to the late Fred Adelman of the much-missed Critical Condition Online, for spotting that one.) Stage lights appear at the top of the frame during the laboratory scenes. At first I thought maybe we’re just seeing the film open matte, but a later scene where a clapboard appears in the foreground (showing the original production name, Anitra), tells me that, nope, they just didn’t care.

As one can expect of any Something Weird DVD from the Image Entertainment pressings, this release is packed with bonus material. The film is presented with its original title sequence (as The Body Shop), but the Doctor Gore title (and H.G. Lewis introduction) are featured as an extra, so happily that sequence from the old United VHS lives in the digital age. The film also has an alternate audio track where Jeffrey Hogue is interviewed about his life, by film historian Cynthia Starr-Soroka. And of course, there is a generous helping of trailers (this time featuring titles with Dr., as well as some vintage Lewis titles), plus two short subjects: Quest of the Perfect Woman – The Vampire of Marrakesh, and Maniac Hospital.

The disc even has a bonus feature film –  the late nudie picture How to Make a Doll,  one of the H.G. Lewis-Pat Patterson collaborations. This is a perfect title to add as a bonus feature, because I can’t imagine any poor horny guy wanting to buy this thing on its own. As usual, Lewis’s photography is very nice, but he films everything from the most boring angle imaginable. Still, I’m glad it’s there for historical purposes.

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I’ve now seen Doctor Gore twice in my lifetime and I’m unlikely to revisit it soon. Still, it’s fun to imagine what people may have thought of this on the bottom of a drive-in all-nighter, playing after something like Indian Raid Indian Made. And yet, as a regional film enthusiast, I am happy to have it on the shelf. 

“Pat” Patterson is truly another fascinating figure in the history of regional filmmaking. He also directed something called Boots and the Preacher (1972), which seems yet to be unearthed (though its trailer appears on the DVD), and the odd suspense film The Electric Chair (1975), also released by Something Weird, which will definitely appear in a future column. Sadly, Patterson passed away from cancer in 1975, at the age of 45. (Dr. Brandon is constantly seen smoking on camera.)

This movie may be worthless as cinema, but historically it is an interesting footnote in the annals of regional and exploitation filmmaking. Still, as a “gas station movie”, Doctor Gore is Exhibit A.

Enter, those who dare.