Even though he’s the newly branded “Sex Machine,” sex is the last thing on Frank’s mind as he awakens to find himself standing in a room full of corpses, getting ready to add another one as he aims his gun at some guy’s head. Fleeing this shocking situation, Frank takes refuge in a motel room. He inspects his body. He finds that he’s not the man he used to be. His entire head is bandaged up like Claude Rains’ Invisible Man. His chest has been carved up as if he had just paid a visit to his friendly neighborhood mortician. And the arms that have been crudely attached to his torso do not belong to him. One is from a black man and the other is from a tattoo addict who thought it wise to get the words “Sex Machine” etched into his flesh. There are a lot of questions on Frank’s mind, the first one being – What the f**k? The second – Who am I?
Pulling out a tracking device buried in his neck, Frank wanders about town undetected, well…as undetected as a guy with a bandaged up head can be. Through various places and people he comes in contact with, Frank gathers clues as to who he is. He finds his girlfriend and a buddy of his, both who believe him to be dead from an automobile crash not too long ago. Convincing them that he is THE Frank they knew and loved, they help him piece together why he’s returned from the dead as a killer. Problem is, there are other killers, just like him, who are out to find him.
This movie has all the makings of a rockin’ B-action flick, and frequently “Sex Machine” rocks the house with its spastic “Natural Born Killers” like appearance. The wildly creative look and feel of the feature makes for an intense ride. But what’s most remarkable here is the conscious, and successful, effort to slow things down and build the characters, to immerse you fully in the situation, to make you feel for this poor bastard Frank. These characters matter, you feel for their plight. This isn’t just a bunch of people playing cops and robbers in front of a camera. This is action that counts!
“Sex Machine” sucks you in, nibbles you up and spurts you back out, feeling exhausted but refreshed. Smoke ’em if you got ’em.