Rating: C-
Dir: Angelica De Alba, Paul Ragsdale
Star: Kansas Bowling, Nina Lanee Kent, Jessa Flux, Ginger Lynn Allen
I remain thoroughly unconvinced by the desire of modern film-makers to make throwbacks which go back to the eighties. It’s something which I think is very difficult to pull off without seeming painfully forced. Scare Package is one of the few that managed it, but for every one that does, there are probably a dozen that don’t work, for one reason or another. This would fall into the latter category, apparently not realizing that you need considerably more than legwarmers and a couple of Reagan references to re-create the decade. It’s a pity, since elements here work well enough. Creating period atmosphere – and that’s basically what it needed to do – is just not one of them.
Events take place on the shoot for an aerobics video, where one participant, Phoebe (the charmingly-named Ms. Bowling) is growing increasingly peeved by the salacious nature of filming, and the refusal of the other aerobicists to take it seriously. This brings her the enmity of the girls, including Isabella (Kent), daughter of Dominica Stromboli (Allen), the mob wife who is funding the production. Eventually, Phoebe snaps and kills off a couple of the other girls. One escapes, bringing back two cops to the studio. Except they are not policemen at all, but serial killers who have been tormenting the area, dressed as law enforcement. Phoebe may be a psycho, but she may also be the group’s best hope of survival.
This is the angle which is both fresh and interesting: having a “final girl” who, it has already been established, is a multiple murderer. Bowling does a good job of capturing the duality of her character. She is both the clean-cut All-American girl, who no doubt loves baseball and apple pie, while also being prepared to slaughter those who push her buttons. The former traits gives her almost immunity, since it’s hard to believe she could ever do anything bad. It feels something like Serial Mom, and is a concept which could have stood on its own, without the need for faux-nostalgic trappings. Allen is also (surprisingly?) good, leveraging her history to good effect, especially in the scene where tries to seduce one of the killers.
But this cannot conceal the poverty-row resources, with almost the entire film taking place in two rooms and, as noted, efforts that don’t so much re-create the eighties as desperately name-check them. Except for one rather good chainsawing of a head, the gore effects are nothing special (though at least are practical). The nudity on offer is just as much a mixed bag. Put it this way: Ginger Lynn Allen is now in her sixties, and her boobies were definitely not the worst pair on view. It did grow on me over the course of proceedings, and I didn’t hate it as much as I expected twenty minutes in. But as ever: if I want to watch eighties horror, I’ll watch eighties horror, not a contemporary wannabe.