Death Spa
Year: 1987
Rated: NR
Run Time: 87 minutes
Production Company: Maljack Productions
Director: Michael Fischa (CRACK HOUSE and... honest to God, WITCH BITCH)
Starring:Brenda Bakke, Shari Shattuck, Chad Haynes, and Ken Foree
T & A: OFF THE FUCKING CHARTS
Fist Full Of Steel: Ass Full Of Boot


"You'll Sweat Blood!"






I sure hope you packed some clean underwear in that LL BEAN fanny pak of yours... because after 87 minutes of DEATH SPA slam-banging your asshole like Rodimus Prime on PCP, you're going to have enough shit in your Jams to choke Green Abobo backstage at Def Comedy Jam. It's like having a hand grenade dipped in Peter Pan and shoved up your ass by a cyborg with rubber tits... it's explosive.

Face it, if there was ever a location on this earth best-suited to host an horrific orgy of mindless slaughter.... it would be a water theme park hosting the Special Olympics... but if there was a close second... well, it would be a Lesbian Kickboxing Fantasy Kumite... but goddammit, if there was a distant third it would definitely be an 80s Health Spa. Think of the possibilities: exercise equipment that can break bones and snap sinews, tanning beds that can roast human flesh, saunas that scald, hot tubs that boil, and a victim base made up entirely of ample-titted anal debuttantes in form-fitting spandex!

Well, now all your dreams of hip-hop supremacy can come true: thanks to DEATH SPA. That's it... congratulate DEATH SPA. Give DEATH SPA a big pat on the back... support him athletically. Tell DEATH SPA that he's still a player in your book, even if it is The Dungeon Master's Guide. But first, allow me to divulge the carnal secrets of DEATH SPA's mysterious origins...

The Starbody Health Spa is on the cutting edge of fitness technology. The space-age facility is fully outfitted with a dazzling array of computer-controlled exercise equipment, a network of state-of-the-art security cameras, and the female instructors have more silicon in their tits than the supercomputers at NASA. In fact, these chicks are so high tech, you have to have 128 megs of RAM just to cop a feel on one of those titties. Do you meet those rigorous system requirements? With that little 3.5 inch floppy I see in your hands... I doubt it.

But despite all these technical marvels, the yuppie-elite patrons of the Starbody Health Spa are falling victim to a series of bizarre accidents. Its seems that the evil spirit of the spa owner's long-dead, handicapped wife (who, judging from the flashbacks, doused herself with kerosene and set herself on fire not one...not two... but no fewer than 12 fucking times) has risen from the grave with a vengeance. She will not stop until everyone in the Starbody Health Spa is dead: and her husband can finally be by her side forever... in Hell.

In order to accomplish this evil scheme she infiltrates the spa's high tech computer system... turning every piece of exercise equipment into a potentially lethal engine of destruction. One by one, the hardbody count rises... as patrons get sliced, diced, scorched, torn, pressed, and dissolved in a series of increasingly gruesome death scenes. But with all this carnage around, will the spa be able to keep its doors open long enough to host the annual AWESOME 80s HALLOWEEN COSTUME BALL? (Ken Foree sure hopes so, otherwise he just bought a goddamn magic genie outfit for nothing.) And even if they do keep the doors open... who's to say that the party won't be turned into a fucking bloodbath courtesy of that damn evil spirit? Could any self-respecting satanic minion resist such an opportunity?

Hell no. The beauty of DEATH SPA is that it has no illusions of grandeur (unlike you and your laughably small penis). It knows it exists simply to showcase two prominent features: lots of killing, and plenty of naked titties beforehand. Die-hard villains everywhere will rejoice in the fact that the plot is simply an excuse to get people into all kinds of contrived Health Spa kills concocted by a couple of alcoholic idiots at Sizzler. One kill that instantly comes to mind is when one happy couple decides to sneak away from the bustle of the spa's costume party and go fuck in the sauna. All is right with the world (i.e. big sun-kissed titties akimbo in a steam-filled wonderland) until one of the sizzling hot rocks from the sauna gets telekinetically SLAMMED through the back of some poor guy's head, spattering his lady friend (and just about everything else) with sopping gobbets of pink brain matter.

Of course, NOTC would be doing the world a huge injustice if we failed to mention the classic "precious moment" that DEATH SPA has to offer... i.e. the number one kill in the whole fucking movie. The one that had us scrambling to punch the damn rewind button 30 times: and that distinguished honor would go to Dr. Lido Moray, a paranormal investigator who is accosted by the spirit and gets 1.) tossed 50 feet straight up into the air (high enough to break a skylight with his ass) 2.) his hand blown off when he tries to fire his pistol 3.) a really pained expression on his face when he realizes he just had his hand blown off 4.) telekinetically slammed into a wall at mach III and 5.) a free trip for his corpse down the super happy fun slide.... all in the span of about 4 and a half seconds. If there was just one reason to rent this flick: this would be it. This kill alone is worth full rental!

The bottom line is that DEATH SPA is an above average slasher in almost every category: Ample, in your face death scenes, ample in-your-face tit scenes, and one (ample, in-your-face) scene where a re-animated zombie trout flies across a room and tears a fat man's throat out. Sure you have to endure more scenes of skinny black guys in leotards doing aerobics than most would care to (funny how El Santo didn't seem to mind so much)... but DEATH SPA has enough mayhem, gore, and spry titty crammed in its 87 minutes to stand on its own as a bonafide classic. Definitely recommended viewing for all American psychos.

-Z MAN

Our Rating System


Mr. Paul: "Dr. Lido Moray gets the gold medal for his excellent high jump, long jump, and luge skills. And Ken Foree gets the MVP for being a badass. Oh and the titty... The TITTY!"


Z-man: "A hardcore 80s ass-stomper with plenty of hot tits a flyin': DEATH SPA makes a perfect addition to this complete breakfast. Aside from one too many jazzercise numbers (Tae Bo would have been OK) this flick delivers the goods. The baked goods. Of course, it also delivers a vorpal carp that can rip off your fucking head with its kamikazee attack... but that's beside the point. Bottom line from the (Motor City) Titty Committee? RENT IT NOW, STROKE IT LATER."


Eagle Te: "The premise of this flick is absolutely incrdible, even if does fall a wee bit short in execution. All sins are forgiven however when the paranormal psychologist goes through a gauntlet of torment before he dies...watching his hand explode when he tries to shoot the ghost and then get tossed at warp speed into a wall has to be one of the better scenes I've seen in quite awhile!"


El Santo: "Well, let me put it this way. I Love Kraft Singles and you're GAY!!! However, the creative use of Tits, Guns, and home made juices makes this better then a stick of juicy fruit on your hefty DICK!!"


General Zod: "Suppa suppa suppa say Boo Radley. Suppa suppa suppa say Bo Diddley. Suppa suppa suppa say Boo Radley. Suppa suppa suppa saaaay. . . what about Squidley Diddley, yo?"


Marquis De Sade: "Laugh out louds kills, shower room titty, and an 80's soundtrack. Fuck Bailey's Total Fitness, this is the place to be!"




MONSTER TRUCK PROPS


A cannibal corpse-fucking, timberland boot-to-the-ass style shout out goes out to NOTC hellpimp JJ Hair for taking a chance and sending DEATH SPA to our asses in the mail. In return for his troubles, we're sending him a coupon redeemable for a free table dance at Waffle House. I hope you prefer syrup, byatch!