... or an audience. A quick recap....
So you've got this doctor who's been experimenting with stolen body parts for some vague reason. He wants to perfect transplants, but feels he needs to do this in his basement. WTF??? And then suddenly, unfortunately, and conveniently, his fiancé gets her head cut off in a traffic accident that HE'S responsible for. Agonized with grief, he preserves her head in a lasagna pan (or is it strudel?) and pumps it full of "adreno-serum" (sic) to keep it alive. And then she awakes, talking her head off (so to speak) even though her neck was obviously severed at the vocal cords, and she has no lungs so she couldn't speak even if she had 'em. Seems the ungrateful b*tch doesn't appreciate all that her fiancé has done for her. Just like a woman.....
Then his grief turns to horniness as he sees the possibility of grafting his beloved's head onto the body of the first sleazy bimbo he can pick up off the street. Meanwhile, the doctor's assistant, a sort of dime-store Igor, gets into philosophical arguments with the head, who has struck up a telekinetic friendship with the "monster in the closet" (every mad scientist has one). Eventually the screenwriter realizes that he can't keep inflicting his misogyny and fear of intimacy issues on the audience ad infinitum, so he kills everybody, then presumably goes to the bank to cash the check before the movie's financial backers have a chance to stop payment on it.
Have I mentioned that I think this is a bad movie?
Someone should tell Turner Classic Movies to stop showing that edited version without the gory stuff. The sight of the assistant with his arm ripped off, pirouetting around the house without leaving much blood anywhere is just too precious.