AEROBICIDE

Aerobicide

Oh, slasher films, why do I watch you? Is it all the bared breasts? Is it all the blood and gore? Is it all the ridiculous plots and barely-there narratives? Is it all the cardboard targets masquerading as characters, delivering lines which barely pass as dialogue? Why, slasher films? Why? Why do I watch you?


Seriously. Why the fuck do I watch slasher movies?


I would guess that 1/3 of my movie watching years has been spent on slasher films. They were part of the fabric of my youth. I would sometimes watch ten to fifteen a week, pushing homework aside to savor the sights of heaving busoms and spurting arteries. When I look back, the rosy lenses of nostalgia are obvious. I remember wandering video stores, picking up whatever film seemed to promise the most carnage. I remember feeling excited every time I pressed play on the VCR, eager to savor the juicy, naughty sights the film was about to offer me. This warm feeling of youthful nostalgia clashes constantly with what I can only describe as feelings of embarrassment and regret. Embarrassment that I spent so much of my time watching absolute dreck and loving it, and regret that, well, I spent so much time watching absolute dreck.


Aerobicide

My young brain wasn't concerned with artistry or narrative or anything my now-mature brain craves. I still watch far too many lousy films. I still enjoy putting my brain in neutral and watching bottom of the barrel films. But I just can't passively accept garbage anymore, no matter how sexy and bloodsoaked the garbage may be. I have a much more critical eye now and poorly shot, poorly acted, poorly written films, no matter how entertaining they may be, simply don't warrant the kind of praise I used to heap upon films when I was younger. Time hasn't been kind to the films I once held up as great entertainment. I've outgrown the simple slasher film in many ways. I can now honestly say that there are only a couple dozen slasher films in existence that are, in any way, shape or form, good films. The other couple of hundred slasher films I've seen in my life just don't stand up anymore.


Watching AEROBICIDE today, I fully realized that I no longer have the same kind of passive acceptance that I used to have. Had I tossed this into the VCR 15 years ago, I would have loved it. It has all the essential slasher ingredients - violence, action, breasts and buns galore - but it has no idea what to do with them. I can imagine my 15 year old self sitting in front of the TV with a stupid grin on my face, head bobbing along to the awful music, finger hovering over the pause button on the remote during the numerous work-out scenes, waiting like an overly hormonal, slavering teen to catch my first glimpse of sweaty, naked breasts.


(This is the embarrassment I was talking about earlier, folks.)


Aerobicide

About halfway through the film, I found myself wanting to turn it off. The two DVDs sitting by the TV were distracting me. I kept eyeing them up. There on the TV stand were two films I SHOULD be watching. But there I was, yawning my way through yet another mindless, talentless 80s slasher film.


(And there's the regret.)


But I didn't turn it off. I didn't budge. I kept my eyes on the screen and the remote by my side. I endured the endless fight scenes, quietly accepted the fact that no one ever seemed to notice someone standing RIGHT BESIDE THEM holding the mother of all safety pins above their heads, waiting to strike them down - and yes, I also quietly accepted the fact that the film's killer uses a big ass safety pin as their main weapon of choice. I just took it all in, not enjoying myself at all, but not willing to turn the film off either.


Aerobicide

Even when the film began to blatantly insult my intelligence, I didn't budge. Even when the film decided to jettison it's main character for half an hour or so, I didn't budge. Even when the film decided to just start killing random characters for no good reason other than to kill random characters, I didn't budge. Even when the film decided it couldn't be bothered to tie up it's loose ends, I didn't budge. And even when the film reached it's ridiculous denouement, I didn't budge. I even sat through the credits.


I'm not sure why. I have hundreds of movies sitting around the house, many of which would have been better fodder for a review, but part of me just thought "hey, a slasher movie I haven't seen!" so in it went. As hard as I try, I cannot seem to tame my naive, easy to please self that years of better films had tried to suppress. I still get excited by discoveries like this. I still feel a shiver of gleeful optimism whenever I sit down to watch a slasher film. But, nine times out of ten, it always ends the same way, with a sigh, a tinge of embarrassment and a whole lot of regret.


Aerobicide

As far as the film itself... AEROBICIDE is certainly not a good film by any stretch of the imagination. If you were to watch a single slasher film set in a work-out center, skip this one and grab DEATH SPA instead. DEATH SPA is more insane, more bloody and a ton more fun. AEROBICIDE will deliver the goods if you are in the mood for big hair and big tits, random bloodshed and unintentional laughs, but those are all things you can get from virtually any slasher film released in the 1980s. So skip it unless you're a completist or a masochist.


Not recommended.