Death Spa

I enjoy a good bad movie, but it is a fine line. I’m fine if the movie is campy and silly, but when it knows it is and tries to be clever with it, that’s just bad. Similarly, when a movie has a campy and silly premise, but plays it straight and doesn’t seem aware of how dumb it is, that’s also bad. I was hoping Death Spa would walk that fine line, because, come on: haunted spa using its powers to kill customers? The gags write themselves! Especially being made at the end of the 80’s, with the exercise fad on the wane, so it could play on all those tropes? This was a gold mine waiting to happen. Nope. They played it straight. What should be absolutely bonkers, moronic, embrace-the-madness from start to finish a la Chopping Mall is played legitimately, and woof does it fall flat. No movie with the cartoonish levels of blood, bad special effects, bizarre plot choices (who serves barracuda sushi, let alone at a health club?), trainee-level acting, and convoluted ideas this has should have any designs on scaring anyone. The papier-mâché barracuda and shower scene that makes Porky’s look restrained should’ve dispelled any doubt in the crew that this is anything but C-grade, 3 in the morning trash. But it never plays up to (down to?) the trash, so you’ll just be left shrugging at this movie’s inability to have fun. It’s not unwatchable if you want a cheesy movie with geysers of blood and more breasts than a Perdue processing plant, and with the right crowd, totally riffable. But on its own, it just misses what should’ve been an easy to hit target.