What a beautiful movie!

an ambitious but ultimately ineffective debut endeavor.

By the time the dramatic fireworks start popping off, each one feels earned.

The acting in this movie is really good.

Holy crap, this was put on late at night in drunken good fun and somehow this is a late 80's camp gem. The colors, music, and cinematography are crazy good fun. The premise is solidly ridiculous - a murder spree at an LA fitness club seemingly caused by a malfunctioning computer. There's a playfulness to the whole enterprise, from the lighting, cinematography and lighting, to the overall high camp feel of it all. It's slightly surreal but in an offhand kind of way. The opening scene is pretty spectacular - a long take set to some sweet 80's synth with a great title "card". And the kills ramp up nicely - ending with a head exploding in a gale force wind and some killer flying fish.

You're not watching this for high art, but if you want gore, corny situations, and some decently inventive kills, you could do worse. The plot is absolutely preposterous and you can see the ending coming a mile away but hey, when was the last time you saw a zombie fish chomping on a dude's neck, a blender attacking a girl's hand as she tries to mix drinks, a mirror blowing up another girl's face, killer saunas, etc. Not easy to find, buy worth tracking down.

Michael Evans (likable William Bumiller) runs a health spa that's beset by a series of gruesome and mysterious deaths. Director Michael Fischa, working from a gleefully ridiculous script by James Bartruff and Mitch Paradise, keeps the enjoyably inane story moving along at a brisk pace, treats the silly premise with gut-busting misguided seriousness, delivers a satisfying smattering of leering gratuitous female nudity, goes delightfully overboard with the excessive explicit splatter, neatly captures the Day-Glo cheesiness of the 80's fitness craze (hot chicks in leotards, leg warmers, strenuous aerobics, and so on), and pulls out the crazy stops at the wild climax in which a Mardi Gras party gets nightmarishly out of hand. Merritt Butrick as arrogant security expert David Avery, Ken Foree as easygoing trainer Marvin, and Rosalind Cash as the no-nonsense Sgt. Stone all do sturdy work in their roles. Moreover, this film further benefits from the smoldering presences of several beautiful babes: Brenda Bakke as Michael's sweet girlfriend Laura Danvers, Alexa Hamilton as conniving backstabbing manager Priscilla Wayne, Shari Shattuck as the vengeful Catherine, and Chelsea Field as perky diver Darla. Peter D. Kaye's shivery synthesizer score hits the shuddery spot. Arledge Armenaki's slick cinematography provides a smooth glossy sheen. A hugely entertaining piece of absolute tosh.

Things are starting to go seriously awry at the Starbody Health Spa. When patron Laura Danvers (Brenda Bakke) is blinded in a sauna accident, that's merely a sign of things to come. Soon people are perishing in bizarre ways. What's the cause of all this? Could it be the computer system running things, or the weirdo, David Avery (Merritt Butrick, in his final film) who designed this damn system? Or maybe a year old suicide by self-immolation has something to do with it.The script is really rather poor, but if one is a fan of the silly cheeseball horror of the 1980s, that shouldn't matter too much. The movie itself is clumsy and crude, with less than slick direction by Michael Fischa. But there's plenty to be amused with, nevertheless, as the fairly lean 88 minute run time contains a smattering of bare breasts and entertainingly tacky mechanical and makeup effects. The acting is mostly underwhelming, to put it charitably. William Bumiller as spa owner Michael Evans is a hunky but stiff lead. Actresses such as Bakke, Alexa Hamilton, and Shari Shattuck provide delectable eye candy. The cast is full of familiar faces: Ken Foree, Rosalind Cash, Francis X. McCarthy, Chelsea Field, Joseph Whipp, Tane McClure, Vanessa Bell Calloway, and Karyn Parsons. Peter D. Kaye contributes a passable music score. The movie features what has to be one of the worst closing credits tunes ever heard by this viewer. The pacing is so-so; the proceedings get particularly goofy when the parapsychologist played by Whipp is brought into the plot. At least "Death Spa" delivers a respectably wild finale and reasonably high body count. The routine ending is pretty much par for the course.Worth a gander for completists of '80s horror.Six out of 10.