In the 80’s two of the biggest cliches were cheesy horror films and the Fitness Craze. I’m actually pretty shocked we didn’t see dozens more films like Death Spa. Fuck, for all I know, there are dozens more but they are just as, or more obscure as this film. If so, let’s hope they stay buried, because sitting through this film made me feel the burn…in my frontal lobe, anyway.
The owner of a state of the art Fitness Club is plagued by visions of his dead wife, while his technologically advanced facilities cause deafly accidents towards his clients. Is it just technological failure? Or is it something more sinister…something from beyond the grave…something Interesting? Well, definetly NO to the last part. Goddammit…I tell ya, when I first heard of this, I just saw the poster, and immediately thought “Holy fuck! This looks stupid! This should be good for a laugh!” So I opened a bottle of wine, and started watching. About 5 mins in, something distracted me and caused me to stop watching, so I resigned myself to picking it back up later. When I next got the chance to watch, I WS sans booze. I cannot stress enough how bad of an idea this was. This film REQUIRES you to be fucked up, otherwise it is just painfully stupid. How stupid? There is a scene where a girl approaches a guy on an exercise bike to flirt with him. He tells her he is gay by saying…and I shit you not…”Sorry hunny, I’m Beta-Max and you’re VHS”
At least there are some decent gore-gags, if folks getting torn up by gym equipment, or scalded in the Sauna. Hopefully you remember to booze yourself up sufficiently before you watch this ridiculously dated film. In fact, it might be a perfect film to make a drinking game for. Take your first drink if you recognise a name in the credits who is too good for this pile of shit (Ken Foree), next, drink for every time someone wears neon Lycra on screen. Bonus drinks if they are wearing multiple layers in multiple colors. With any luck, you’ll be shitfaced enough in mere minutes.