Adult Content Notice

Erotic Mad Science unashamedly and unapologetically contains both erotically-themed and philosophically-disturbing content. This site is inappropriate for minors and restricted to adults, so if you are not an adult, you need to leave this site now (sorry, young person, but it's not really up to me -- you will be welcome as soon as you put on the right number of years!). The material displayed below might also be unlawful in certain nanny-state jurisdictions. You have my unconditional sympathy if you are in one, but keep in mind if you're prudent, you'll know the law where you are.

For those of you who can and wish to stay, welcome! And keep in mind: Die grossen Epochen unsres Lebens liegen dort, wo wir den Muth gewinnen, unser Böses als unser Bestes umzutaufen.

 

Having enjoyed myself writing a tale of a woman who turns into a giant arachnid, I thought it fitting to watch a movie about arachnids turned into women.  Is there such?  Of course there is!  Probably there are many, but one of the most readily accessible is a 1953 oddity called Mesa of the Lost Women.

Told largely in flashback, the core story of on Leland J. Masterson, World Famous Specialist (in what exactly it isn’t clear) who answers a summons of the mysterious but brilliant Dr. Aranya, who’s running a laboratory inside a mesa in a Mexican desert.

A mad-lab, it turns out.  Dr. Aranya has figured out a way to transform tarantulas into beautiful women.  There are a few seconds of half-way decent mad-lab footage.

Dr. Aranya is the gentleman on the left in the white lab-coat.  Do you recognize the actor?  Neither did I.  But a little digging turned up that he was someone genuinely Hollywood famous:

Yes, Jackie Coogan.  “The Kid” in Charlie Chaplin‘s The Kid.  He would go on to play Uncle Fester in the 1960s Addams Family television series.   Possibly he did not look back on this movie as the high point of his career.

Masterson, upstanding Pillar of the Establishment he is, throws an absolute fit when he finds out what Aranya is up to.  I really don’t understand what Aranya’s problem is:  it looks like Aranya’s work is succeding brilliantly.  His creations are intelligent enough to help him with his scientific research, can communicate telepathically, can regenerate lost limbs (although we don’t see them do this), and recover in minutes from what would be fatal bullet wounds (we do se this).

Oh, and did I mention that some of the female ones are smokin’ hot?  The most successful in this regard is “Tarantella,” played by Tandra Quinn.  She treats us to a dance in  a cantina, which doesn’t really do much to advance the thin plot, but which at least provides a few more minutes of watchable footage.

Since Masterson (played by Harmon Stevens) refuses to help Aranya, Tarantella gives Masterson an injection which turns Materson (temporarily) into an idiot.  In this condition, he looks eerily like a prototype for Peter Sellers‘s role of Chance the Gardener in Being There (1979).

I mean, maybe it’s just the power of hats, but the resemblance is sometimes sort of eerie to me.   There are even moments in which the speech mannerisms in Stevens’s performance seem to prefigure those in Sellers’s.

This movie clocks in at 67 minutes and feels overlong.  Such an interesting premise, so little done with it.  Most of the movie has to do with a bunch of very unlikeable characters trying to survive attacks from Dr. Aranya’s characters.  A useless and intrusive narrator appears at the beginning and the end of the movie to warn us that mankind is outclassed by the insects (tarantulas are arachnids, not insects) and “the hexapods” (tarantulas have eight legs, not six).  It features one of the most headache-inducing musical scores to hit my eardrums ever.

Oh, and even if you can pardon the patronizing way this movie treats Mexican people, we get Wu, an Asian valet right out of Stereotype Central:  fatalistic, servile, and prone to communicate primarily in cornball pseudo-Confucian aphorisms.

There are things that I do genuinely miss about old movies, but characters like Wu are not one of them.

Still, I should think this is worth mining for a few minutes of footage for the mad science completist.  It’s public domain and available at the Internet Archive.

Link here in case the embedding doesn’t work.

 

Bert I. Gordon (look at the initials) is best remembered, perhaps, as the creator of movies like The Amazing Colossal Man (1957), but he also gives us at least one decent thaumatophile moment in what is otherwise a real stinker of a movie called Village of the Giants (1965).

The movie does feature a Mad Scientist of sorts — an annoying Boy Genius imaginatively called “Genius.” He invents some sort of wonder substance that causes biological organisms to grow to colossal size (a theme dear to B.I.G.’s heart, obviously).  A crew of dim, overaged teenagers steal of of the substance and camp out in an abandoned theater, and consume some.

And while this movie is stupid on all sorts of levels (it was riffed on but good by the MST3K crew), B.I.G. does manage to get one thing right, which is that he takes account of the fact that a wonder substance that blows you up to several times your natural size won’t necessarily blow up the clothes you are wearing, and that’s a result that B.I.G. rightly exploits for some decent sexploitation, at least for 1965.

I’ve done part of the result as animated GIFs for your edification.  Since they’re sort of big (hmm…) and since some people find them annoying I’ve tucked them beneath the fold.  Click at your own risk!

Continue reading »

 

One of the twin crises that have Aloysius running back and forth late in Progress in Research is an attempt at breast augmentation that runs way out of control.

Well, maybe I’m just being immature to notice such things, but even this odd little theme has a history.  One example (which I only vaguely remembered from video-store box art until I finally got hold of and watched a copy, just for your benefit, dear readers) is the 1982 comedy Jekyll and Hyde…Together Again.  I’ll never have those 87 minutes of my life back, but I can report that there is a scene in which a plastic surgeon named Dr. Knute Lanyon gets distracted in the course of a procedure that “injects collagen behind the soft tissue of the breast” or one Mrs. Simpson.  This inflation goes on and on.  Mrs. Simpson actually seems rather pleased with the unplanned result.

As she admonishes Dr. Lanyon “don’t you dare touch a thing…Bernie’s going to love these.”

A better example of this sort of thing can be found in Vittorio Giardino‘s Little Ego (1985).  This is an erotic tribute (Wikipedia suggests “parody,” but I think tribute might be better) to Windsor McCay‘s extraordinary Little Nemo in Slumberland (1905 to 1914).  Nightly, Little Ego has dreams in which all sorts of absurd and wrong and yet highly erotic things happen.  (There is an extended “abduction into a harem” sequence which doubtless influenced the “Odalisque” segment of Study Abroad.)    It is an exquisite piece of work that belongs in the library of any serious collector of comic-book erotica.

In one of Ego’s dreams, she stands before a mirror, wishing she had bigger breasts.  By the merest chance she finds before her a jar of cream the label of which proclaims “increases and firms breasts in minutes.”  “Why not?” asks Ego, trying it out.  And before you know it…

The dream ends with Ego in a rather unusual modeling career.  For a Vittorio Giradino site look here.

 

Okay, a break for a while from all the heavy stuff, to say the solipsism of writing about my own writing.  Here:

In all candor I must say I sort of miss old-style sexploitation, a genre of movies that seems to have flourished between the mid-1960s, when people got tired of the nudie-cuties and mid-1970s, after which time when moviemaking seems to have fissioned into mass market movies, which due to their mass-market character reach for a lowest common denominator with respect to erotic content (meaning, not much) and outright porn.  I have nothing against outright porn, mind you, it’s just that as a thaumatophile I sort of like people who worked a bit, even at absurd pretenses, to get pretty girls out of their clothes and into peril, peril which often included mad science and its consequences.  I guess I’ll always just get more out of Invasion of the Bee Girls than a lot of other movies that have more explicit sexual content.   Oh where are the drive-ins and grindhouses of yesteryear?

Which is why I sort of have a soft spot for Fred Olen Ray, (personal site here) who seems to be busy keeping the sexploitation flame burning bright, sometimes even with mad-science overtones.  His movies might be utterly goofy, but they can be mined profitably for entertainment.  (Ray has made lots and lots of movies, including Hollywood Chainsaw Hookers, Bikini Drive-In, Bikini Hoe-Down, and the Bikini Escort Company.  We’re talking commitment here, people.) Here’s an example, from Ghost in a Teeny Bikini.

Christine Nguyen here plays “Muffin Baker,” who in turn is playing a character in a movie within the movie (which we will later learn is called Missing in Acting).  And she’s in trouble, tied to a table in the half-convincing-looking mad lab of a “Dr. Sin,” who I think I vaguely remember from graduate school.

Happily for our unnamed heroine she is soon rescued by a character named Bardo, sent straight from Central Casting’s “Weightlifter with a Machine Gun” division.  Bardo is played by Nick Manning, the most relevant fact about whom I could find is that as of this writing he has 460 acting credits to his name in IMDB, which include Anal Ballerinas and My Teacher is a MILF.

After a bit of sub-Homeric narration by Bardo of his travails in rescuing the girl, we are treated to this bit of sparkling dialog

Muffin

How much time do you think we have until they blow us all up?

Bardo

Let’s not talk about killing. We only might have thirty minutes left until we ourselves are killed by those who we seek to kill.

Now you or I, dear reader, might have a variety of reactions to this interesting revelation, among which might be

  • Professionalism.  Get busy killing those whom you seek to kill and who seek to kill you.  A job is a job, damnit!
  • Self-preservation.  Excuse me, but you didn’t happen to say “blown up,” did you?  You did?  In that case, would you excuse me for a moment?  I need to slip into a comfortable pair of running shoes.

But you or I, dear reader, clearly would not be following the cinematic logic of the situation.  Fred Olen Ray understands it however.

Muffin

Makes me melt when you touch me like that. Make love to me, Bardo.

Bardo

If we are to die, then let it be in each other’s arms.

Yep.  Makes perfect sense.

And I know that all dedicated readers of this blog will doubtless look at that last image and think:

That dingus over there in the far right-hand side of the image.  Is that the lab’s main power supply?  What is it running?  What is the experiment?  Please tells us, Mr. Ray!
But unfortunately we never learn, because at that point Muffin’s director-boyfriend yells “Cut!” ending the scene and getting on with the main, and even sillier, movie.

Oh well.  At least I understand that Fred Olen Ray has Bikini Frankenstein coming out, so maybe there’s something for us thaumatophiles to hope for.

 

Welcome to all and sundry.   I am your host; kindly call me Dr. Faustus.

Do cheesy science fiction movies do something for you?   Would you go (or have you ever gone) to see a midnight performance of Invasion of the Bee Girls? Have you ever shared the monster’s point of view in Creature from the Black Lagoon?  Did you find it at least mildly titillating Virginia Bruce was (theoretically) running around without any clothes on in the 1940 film The Invisible Woman?  Have you ever thought perhaps that H.P. Lovecraft might even cooler if he weren’t so damn sex-negative?  Do you infer a line of artistic influence from Katsushika Hokusai to Toshio Maeda?  Do you think it would be sexier to be Victor Frankenstein than Elvis?

If you answered yes to any of those questions, then perhaps this site is for you.

This is the formal opening post at EroticMadScience.com, a site which I am intially opening as an experiment in the self-publication of some of my own fiction and my musings on a peculiar topic, to wit the topos of  “mad science” or the “Mad Scientist”

as a source of kink.

If you want a detailed account of what this is and why I am doing it, I invite you to look at The Thaumatophile Manifesto, which I lay all this out in detail.  And if you just want to jump in and see the kink in action, take a look at The Apsinthion Protocol, which is the first of seven long stories in my “Gnosis College” mad science series.  It is written as a screenplay, because that’s the way things play out in my head.

More things will be coming here in the future:  I’ll try to explain the various literary (?) antecedents of my fiction as well as provide people who find the erotic mad science thing appealing suggestions for future reading and viewing.  In the future, I hope to offer a forum for people interested in what is going on here.

I feel great excitement at starting this site.  As I was planning it, an aphorism of Nietzsche‘s from Beyond Good and Evil came to mind.

 

Die grossen Epochen unsres Lebens liegen dort, wo wir den Muthgewinnen, unser Böses als unser Bestes umzutaufen.

Jenseits von Gut und Böse, #116

The great epochs in our lives come when we find the courage to rebaptize our our evil (this being Nietzsche, perhaps that should be implicitly read as our “evil”)  as what is best in us.  I guess today is just one of those days.

Comments on this an other posts will be welcome, subject of course to moderation (see the Manifesto for more detail on what might or might not be appropriate here).

So perhaps I shouldn’t say just welcome to all and sundry.  Instead, welcome friends.

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