Alright, fellow tapeheads, dim the lights, adjust the tracking, and prepare yourselves. Tonight, we're digging deep into the plastic clamshell crate for a title that practically screams late-night video store discovery, a film so uniquely bizarre it feels like a fever dream cooked up after too much sugary cereal and bad TV: 1994’s magnificent oddity, Tammy and the T-Rex. Forget your standard high school romance; this one throws in mad science, unlikely revenge, and, yes, a giant animatronic dinosaur housing the brain of a teenage boy.
If that premise alone doesn't make you grin with bewildered delight, you might be in the wrong corner of the video store. Picture this: Denise Richards, luminous and on the cusp of stardom (Wild Things, Starship Troopers), plays Tammy, your typical bubbly high schooler. Her boyfriend, Michael, played by a pre-Fast & Furious, impossibly charming Paul Walker, runs afoul of Tammy’s jealous ex and his gang of thugs. Things escalate tragically, leaving Michael comatose. Enter the delightfully unhinged Dr. Wachenstein (Theo Forsett), who, for reasons only justifiable in this kind of glorious B-movie logic, decides Michael’s brain is the perfect candidate for implantation into… a life-sized animatronic Tyrannosaurus Rex he happens to have lying around.
A Dinosaur is Born (Literally)
Now, let's talk about that T-Rex. Forget the seamless CGI predators that roam multiplexes today. This beast is pure 90s practical effects glory. It’s stiff, it’s clunky, its movements are endearingly robotic, and yet… it works within the film’s bonkers universe. You can almost hear the hydraulics whirring. There’s a tactile reality to it, a physical presence that CGI often lacks. Remember seeing effects like this on a fuzzy CRT and thinking they looked pretty convincing? This T-Rex embodies that era. The sheer audacity of building the plot around this prop is part of the charm. A juicy retro fun fact: Apparently, producer Richard Abramson owned the expensive animatronic dinosaur (some say it was originally built for a park or attraction in Vegas that fell through) and essentially commissioned a film to be written around it. Talk about putting the cart before the… dinosaur!
Director Stewart Raffill, no stranger to cult curiosities having helmed both the infamous Mac and Me (1988) and the enjoyably goofy The Ice Pirates (1984), leans into the absurdity. The film veers wildly between sweet teen romance, slapstick comedy (the T-Rex trying to use a payphone is an image seared into my brain), and surprisingly brutal violence. Michael, now piloting his dino-body, seeks vengeance on the bullies who wronged him and tries to reconnect with a understandably confused Tammy.
The Tale of Two Tapes
Here’s where things get really interesting for us VHS archaeologists. For years, Tammy and the T-Rex circulated in a bafflingly tame PG-13 cut. It felt disjointed, weirdly sanitized, missing… something. The gore hinted at in the setup never quite materialized, leaving the tone feeling confused. I remember renting this back in the day and thinking, "Well, that was… strange." But it turns out, Raffill and writer Gary Brockette originally intended – and shot – a much bloodier, gorier, R-rated horror-comedy! The studio, likely aiming for a broader (and younger) audience, demanded massive cuts, neutering the film’s outrageous potential.
Decades later, like unearthing a buried treasure, the original uncut version, dubbed the "Gore Cut," was restored and released. And folks, it’s a completely different beast (pun intended). The restored gore – we're talking crushed heads, disembowelments, bloody mayhem – suddenly makes the film’s tonal shifts make sense. It becomes a gleefully splattery, over-the-top black comedy that fully embraces its ridiculous premise. Finding the Gore Cut now feels like discovering the director’s secret stash, the version whispered about on proto-internet forums back in the day. It elevates the film from a mere curiosity to a genuine cult classic.
Charmingly Dated, Undeniably Fun
Watching it today, especially the Gore Cut, is a blast. Richards and Walker possess undeniable screen presence, even amidst the chaos. Theo Forsett chews the scenery as the mad doctor with infectious glee. The supporting cast, including Tammy's flamboyant best friend Byron (Joe Pilato, recognizable to horror fans from George A. Romero's Day of the Dead (1985)), adds to the quirky energy. Yes, the fashion is pure early 90s, the dialogue can be clunky, and the logic is… well, let’s just say it vacationed elsewhere during production. But the commitment to the bit is admirable. Those practical T-Rex moments, from crushing cars to awkwardly attempting affection, possess a unique charm that modern effects, for all their sophistication, often miss. It's the kind of movie that video stores were made for – the bizarre cover art practically leaping off the shelf, promising something unforgettable, for better or worse.
***
VHS Heaven Rating: 7/10 (Based on the Gore Cut; knock it down to a 4/10 for the PG-13 version)
Justification: The original PG-13 cut is a baffling, tonally incoherent mess saved only by its leads and inherent weirdness. The restored Gore Cut, however, fulfills the film's schlocky promise, delivering a unique blend of teen romance, black comedy, and surprisingly graphic splatter powered by a wonderfully clunky animatronic. It’s a testament to the bizarre gems the VHS era could produce, especially when you factor in the "let's make a movie around this giant T-Rex we own" origin story.
Final Word: A film that proves true love knows no bounds, not even species… or the difference between flesh and fibreglass. Essential viewing for connoisseurs of cinematic absurdity, best enjoyed late at night, perhaps after finding the "lost" Gore Cut tape hidden behind the returns counter.