Alright, fellow tapeheads, slide that worn copy of Killer Workout (or maybe you knew it as Aerobicide back in the day?) into the VCR, adjust the tracking just so, and let’s talk about this gloriously gaudy slice of 80s slasher cheese. There's a certain magic to popping in a tape like this, isn't there? The slightly fuzzy picture, the mono sound crackling through the speakers... it just feels right for a movie that screams neon leg warmers andAqua Net louder than its victims. Forget high art; this is pure, unadulterated Reagan-era exploitation, served sweaty and with a synth beat.
### Welcome to Rhonda's: Where Pulses and Body Counts Rise
The premise is pure gold, cooked up by the prolific B-movie maestro David A. Prior: someone is offing the clientele and staff at Rhonda's Workout, a trendy Los Angeles fitness club overflowing with big hair, bigger attitudes, and enough Lycra to outfit a small nation. Stepping into Rhonda's is like stepping into a time capsule – the pastel colours, the relentless aerobics routines, the gloriously dated dialogue. It perfectly captures that moment when fitness culture exploded, becoming less about health and more about... well, looking good while sweating profusely to pulsing electronic music. David A. Prior, known for churning out energetic, low-budget action and horror flicks often alongside his brother Ted (though Ted sits this one out), clearly knew his audience. Rumour has it this neon-soaked nightmare fuel was shot in a brisk 15 days, and honestly, that frantic energy bleeds right onto the screen.
### The Prior Method: Fast, Cheap, and Strangely Effective
You don’t watch a David A. Prior film expecting Kubrickian precision. You watch it for raw, sometimes clumsy, but always committed B-movie filmmaking. Killer Workout delivers exactly that. The direction is functional, getting us from one gratuitous workout montage to the next stalk-and-slash sequence with maximum efficiency. The camera lingers, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically at times, on the exercising bodies, leaning hard into the exploitation angle that was part and parcel of the genre back then. It’s undeniably a product of its time in that regard, something that might make modern viewers raise an eyebrow, but for veterans of the video store horror aisle, it feels almost comforting in its familiar sleaze. Prior wasn't afraid to just go for it, constraints be damned, and that often resulted in films that punched above their weight in sheer watchability, even if the seams were showing.
### That Giant Safety Pin Though...
Let's talk about the elephant – or rather, the absurdly oversized haberdashery – in the room. The killer's weapon of choice? A giant, novelty-sized safety pin. Yes, you read that correctly. It’s one of those touches that elevates Killer Workout from generic slasher fodder into something genuinely memorable, albeit for reasons bordering on the surreal. The kills themselves are typical 80s slasher fare, relying on practical effects that feel tangible, if not always entirely convincing. Remember how real those blood squibs looked back then, even the cheap ones? There’s a visceral quality to seeing actual stunt work and physical props, a far cry from today's often weightless CGI gore. That giant safety pin, ridiculous as it is, exists in the frame, wielded with deadly intent. Wasn't there something uniquely unsettling about seeing mundane objects turned into weapons on screen in those days?
### Meet the Workout Warriors (and Victims)
The cast fits the B-movie mold perfectly. Marcia Karr plays Rhonda, the determined owner trying to keep her gym afloat amidst the mounting body count. She brings a certain tough-as-nails energy that works. Then there’s David James Campbell as Lieutenant Morgan, the grizzled detective investigating the murders with a perpetually weary expression, and Fritz Matthews as the suspiciously intense gym employee, Jimmy. Nobody's winning an Oscar here, but the performances are earnest and fit the slightly heightened, pulpy reality of the film. They deliver their lines, hit their marks, and occasionally get impaled by that infamous pin. It’s exactly what you’d expect, and honestly, exactly what the movie needs. Finding specific casting anecdotes for a film this deep in the cult trenches is tough, but you just know everyone involved threw themselves into it with the kind of gusto reserved for low-budget passion projects.
### A Time Capsule Sealed in Spandex
More than just a slasher, Killer Workout is an incredible snapshot of mid-80s aesthetics and anxieties. The fashion is a character in itself – the thong leotards worn over leggings, the sweatbands, the feathered hair. The soundtrack throbs with synth-pop that instantly transports you back. It taps directly into the fitness craze, maybe even subtly poking fun at its obsessive nature while simultaneously exploiting it for thrills and T&A. I distinctly remember seeing the lurid Aerobicide box art on the rental shelves, promising exactly this kind of trashy good time. It wasn't a blockbuster, and critics likely scoffed (if they noticed it at all), but this was prime Friday night VHS fodder, discovered and passed around by fans who appreciated its specific brand of energetic schlock.
Rating: 6.5 / 10
Justification: Let's be real, Killer Workout isn't high art. The plot is thin, the acting is serviceable B-movie standard, and the dialogue occasionally dips into glorious cheese. However, it absolutely nails the 80s slasher vibe with infectious energy, memorable (if ridiculous) kills featuring tangible practical effects, and an atmosphere so thick with hairspray and synth beats you can practically taste it. It fully commits to its ludicrous premise, spearheaded by David A. Prior's efficient, no-nonsense direction. For fans of retro slashers and peak-80s aesthetics, it delivers exactly what it promises on the tin (or, more accurately, the VHS box). It earns points for sheer audacity, memorable iconography (that pin!), and being a perfect time capsule. It loses points for technical limitations and leaning heavily into exploitation tropes, but its cult status is well-deserved among those who appreciate this specific flavour of cinematic junk food.
Final Thought: Killer Workout is the movie equivalent of finding a dusty Trapper Keeper full of questionable fashion choices and gleefully violent doodles – dated, maybe slightly embarrassing, but undeniably fun to revisit if you’ve got a taste for the delightfully tacky side of 80s horror. Fire up the VCR, maybe do some stretches first.