My unhealthy addiction to cinematic trash can easily be traced back to a late night encounter with Frank Henenlotter’s bizarro indie classic Basket Case on Cinemax during the '90s. It was fresh, it was exciting and, most of all, it was sleazy as hell. Needless to say, I was instantly hooked like a mutant fish on a demented fisherman’s two-dollar lure. This insatiable hunger for campy atmospheric horror led to the discovery of such like-minded fodder as Combat Shock, Street Trash and Gregory Lamberson’s highly underrated gem Slime City. Unfortunately for me, it also led to the unearthing of director Francis Teri’s virtually forgotten abortion opus The Suckling.
Oh, what a lucky man I am.
But don't get me wrong, dear readers; The Suckling doesn't even come close to matching the sheer unbridled genius of Henenlotter's work or that of his imitators. At best, this goofy little microbudget endeavor is a forgettable rubber monster movie with a controversial villain, nothing more. If you do decide to investigate this obscure little number for yourself, try to keep this helpful tidbit of information in mind. Try as it might, this sad picture just can't compare to the universal master of splattery surreal sleaze.
How’s this for an original premise: A dopey college kid and his knocked-up girlfriend pay a visit to their local back alley abortion clinic/whorehouse in search of a solution to their prenatal problem. Though our heroine is strongly opposed to terminating this pregnancy, resident physician and motherly madam Big Momma assures her that this dangerous procedure is actually quite harmless and beneficial to a young woman’s future. After their patient has been properly drugged and knocked unconscious, Big Momma and her assistant perform the surgery anyway, disposing of the waste material in a very inappropriate manner.
They flush it down the toilet.
Before you can say BIG MISTAKE, the aborted fetus is practically swimming in a frothy batch of icky toxic waste that someone has conveniently dumped into the city’s sewer system. Baby grows up, baby grows claws, and baby gets revenge. And, like all mutant fetuses with a taste for human blood, it promptly encases the house in its patented brand of gooey webbing and quickly sets to work. Soon the seedy inhabitants of this self-contained sleaze factory are getting bumped off one by one, forcing them to band together in an effort to stay alive. Will they escape with life and limb intact, or will this chemically-altered demon spawn make a tasty meal out of everyone?
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