hammer time.

Hammerhead Shark Frenzy (AKA Shark Man, Hammerhead, 2005)
Dir: Michael Oblowitz
Cast: William Forsythe, Hunter Tylo, Jeffrey Combs, Elise Muller, Arthur Roberts, G.R. Johnson and Anton Argirov

Amelia Lockhart: You're going to impregnate me?
Dr. Preston King: No....
[pointing to the mutant shark man in the tank]
Dr. Preston King: .....he is.

Somewhere on a deserted island (that looks a wee bit like Bulgaria) mad as a lorry scientist Dr. Preston King (Combs) is desperately trying to find a cure for his son Paul's terminal pancreatic cancer (cheery).

King decides the best course of action is to use stem cells taken from Hammerhead sharks (?) and merge them with those of his dying son.

Unexpectedly shark DNA can, in fact completely cure all known cancer (who knew?), but the downside is that it causes humans to mutate into hideous half man, half shark monsters!

"Spice Girls number one for Christmas.....Monsta!"

Feeling that someone should really check up on Dr. Kings wacky experiments, a group of his former colleagues, led by eminent fish expert Dr. Tom Reed (Forsythe) and including his son's ex (Tylo) and for some reason a blonde bimbette in a flouncy dress and pink jelly shoes (Muller, star of the equally fin-tastic Raging Sharks reviewed elsewhere on this blog), decide to make a surprise visit to his island lair for chat, tea and cakes (yum).

On arrival they are horrified (if not a little aroused) to discover not only the mutant hammerhead shark man but a dingy lab stuffed full of half-naked, oily women strapped to tables and shelf upon shelf of pickled shark hybrid fetuses.

Some shark DNA yesterday.

Yup, King wants a grandson and it appears that he'll stop at nothing to finally hear the pitter patter of tiny fins around his laboratory.

Trouble is that shark-mans foreplay technique appears to be biting chunks out of his dates.

Artificial insemination wont work either as shark-man can't really reach his own penis with his stumpy claw arms and his dad (understandably) will only do so much for him.

So you can imagine Kings surprise when his sons ex-beau Amelia turns up, he decides to drown the rest of the party in his handy water tank and re-introduce his son to his ex for a candle lit meal, some wine and a wee bit of slap and tickle (plus maybe a bit of biting).

The lights are on....

Our motley crew manage to escape down the overflow pipe and into the dense jungle (well, community park) surrounding the complex only to find themselves hunted down by Kings private army.....not only that, but the Doctors son is out for a stroll (paddle?) and is out for blood!

"I wouldn't want one of them swimming up my arse".

One by one, the cast of has beens, wannabes and ne'er do wells are slaughtered by sharky; first to go is the foxy female German scientist, eating her whole (no he didn't spit that bit out) he then snacks down on a fat lab assistant before scoffing the bimbette.

But he's still hungry!

"Leaf me alone!"

After another couple of chases, near misses and vicious attacks, the Doc persuades sharky to return to his paddling pool and also manages to trap the ex in a shed.

Bloody hell.

So he strips her down to her undies, covers her in baby oil, lights some candles, pops on a Barry White CD and straps her to a table ready for some saucy shark sex.

"Laugh Noooooooow!"

Will William Forsythe arrive armed to the teeth to take out the randy fish before it has poor miss Lockhart?

Or will sharky triumph?

"I love you.....could it be magic?"

Quite possibly the best mutant hammerhead shark movie to feature Jeffrey Combs, Hammerhead: Shark Frenzy is a laugh a minute, flirty gore fest of the highest order, teasing it's viewers with promises of rubber monster mayhem, needless nudity, buckets of blood and the exciting prospect of girl on shark action.

Hunter Tylo: frightening breasts.

If you're in the right frame of mind (pissed?) there's a lot of fun to be had with the film; Jeffrey Combs is, as always infinitely watchable and the shark-man costume is a rubbery (thank you) delight to behold and far more realistic than the silicon and plastic form of Hunter Tylo, add to the mix a veritable art store shelf of paper thin non actors (with the exception of William - my alimony payments have hiked - Forsythe) and a bevvy of oiled ladies and you have the perfect Friday night film.

Yup, it's shit, but it's top quality shit and that's all that matters.