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On Siamese twins:
Thomas and Barry Howe are conjoined twins like Chang and Eng. Their mother dies of post-partum and they grow up with their father and sister in a very serene farm place. It was 1970s and medical advancements at that time weren’t that grand to separate them successfully since they share a common pleural cavity. At first thought, I supposed this film was true-to-life since it had documentary style in it. But after seeing the ridiculous flap of skin that connects Tom and Barry via their abdomens, I knew this was wholly make-believe. The grim brothers have their imaginary friends and they chant: Kill me; bury me.
On sex, rock, and roll:
This film, without the documentary shit, is extremely dark and edgy and I like it for that sole reason. The Treadaway brothers are surreal. Having a Siamese twin for a rock band, such as The Bang Bang, is one hell of a freak show! A fantastic freak show, that is. Groupies have the microphones under their panties! Their lyrics are so meaningful,: the lamentable Doola and Dawla, the captivating Two-Way Romeo, and, the very inconsiderate My Friend, You Cunt!-- you feel their grief and frustration, and even mirth, for having been born like that. Tom Howe is the soft-spoken one, he’s the guitarist and he is more attractive than Barry, who was always in-your-face and tactless.
On disturbance:
What disturbed me the most is that the twins managed to have sex with their partners even though they are, well, conjoined. It was like having orgy, a group sex therapy that would never invigorate their entwined fate. And the ickiest part of film is when one of the brain doctors discovered that Barry had this growing lump on the back of his head which the quack believed to be another fetus that has a life on its own. I mean, what the hell, another human being inside one’s brains? I’d rather have my own brains eaten by zombies!
On conjoined death:
I don’t know if I wasn’t focused on the last chapter of the video since I took a nap in between, but I really didn’t understand how the twins died. This film lacked more proofs and bluffs to prolong the viewers’ amusement. Did they kill each other? Did they drink poison like Romeo and Juliet? Did Barry die first? The questions of confusion are never-ending.
Postscript:
I’m giving this seven freakish stars since it had me singing along the catchy choruses of Tom and Barry’s compositions. Maybe I’ll even give a high five for its soundtrack. Doola and Dawla, they live in my shoes. So how come Doola don't come out and play? And how come Dawla don't talk no more? Doola dropped me in it. Dawla poked my eye. Doola made me do it. Dawla made me cry. Ooh, where the hell can I download this shit?!
7/10
