Masters of the Universe (Gary Goddard, 1987)

As much as it pains me to tell you this, but the forces of darkness are about to take over the universe. You think I'm kidding? Check out that giant vortex swirling out of control behind the throne of that pompous dude in the blackish purple cape. Which one? They're all wearing blackish purple capes. The one with the blackish purple cape that looks like he shaves with a weed wacker. Okay, I see him. What about him? Well, like I said, he's about to unleash the forces of darkness, and it looks like there's nothing anyone can do stop him. You mean to tell me there's not one musclebound warrior, mustachioed man-at-arms, or Thenurian locksmith in the entire universe who is willing to intervene? Oh, sure. There are plenty who are willing, but most of them are tied up at the moment. What the universe needs, particularly the planet of Eternia, is a keyboard player. You have got to be kidding? You mean to tell me there's a movie out there where a guy who plays the synthesizer in his high school new wave band is the galaxy's last hope for salvation, and I'm only finding out about this now? What the fuck, man? And not only that, it's his synthesizer skills that are required to save the universe from a deranged overlord. Instead of feeling cheated over the fact that this film has existed unbeknownst to me for over twenty years, I'm going to embrace it tightly against my quivering bosom like it were a long lost panda. You heard me. I'm claiming, that from this day forward, that Masters of the Universe and I are best friends. Are you sure you're ready for this kind of commitment? I mean, you've only watched it twice. Let's just say that "I have the power," and know exactly what I'm getting into. You do realize that Courtney Cox, the least appealing "friend" from the television show Friends is in the cast? Yeah, I'm aware of that. However, you have got to remember that Friends didn't exist in 1987, and that the Courtney Cox featured in this film was simply the chick who famously appeared in the music video for Bruce Springsteen's "Dancing In The Dark." So, using you're dislike of anything or anyone Friends-related or Friends adjacent–Romy and Michele's High School Reunion, notwithstanding; that movie rules–as an excuse not to like this film is not even close to being acceptable.
 

 

Grand in scope, yet containing subtle moments of human frailty, Masters of the Universe scratched my cinematic cornea for myriad reasons. First and foremost, it sports a mystical realm filled with characters who are both heroic and evil. Wait a minute. I'm not a fan of movies like that. In fact, I usually despise that kind of kiddie crap. While I don't want to play my Meg Foster as Evil-Lyn card quite yet, there has got to be another explanation for the way I reacted to this film. Seriously, I haven't felt this giddy about a film in donkey's years.

 

 

Produced by Menahan Golan and Yoran Globus, the team that brought us The Apple and 10 to Midnight, and directed Gary Goddard, Masters of the Universe, based on the "media franchise" created by Mattel, is a live action film that tries to capture the majesty of the animated series produced by Filmation we all watched as small people. While I have vague recollection of the series, my memory pertaining to the conflict between the heroic He-Man (Dolph Lundgren) and the evil Lord Skeletor (Frank Langella) on the planet Eternia is mostly based on the commercials for the toys that used to air around the clock during the early morning hours, as the line, "It's Castle Grayskull, and it's mine!" is seared into my subconscious.
 

 

In other words, my memory is a tad foggy. Nevertheless, you don't really need to be that familiar, nor have a history with the franchise to be able to enjoy the world that is recreated in this film. A world we're sucked into almost immediately, as we meet Frank Langella's Skeletor, a power mad despot who fancies himself the ruler of Eternia, a planet located at the centre of the universe. Marching into the throne room of Castle Grayskull, flanked by his shock troops, Skeletor seems pleased when his loyal aid Evil-Lyn (Meg Foster) says that is Castle Grayskull is ours. After correcting Evil-Lyn (he tells he that Castle Grayskull is not ours but "mine"), he finally takes the throne.
 

 

Now, you would think that Evil-Lyn, the sexiest, most alluring minion in all of Eternia, would be upset over the fact Skeletor contradicted her in front of his elite guards. But she doesn't appear to be upset at all. In fact, she seems to be smirking. It's almost as if she knows something we don't know. And that's part of the appeal of Evil-Lyn. As the smirk heard around the world was being coyly implemented, Skeletor was busy belittling his prized possession. Imprisoned in some kind of electronic force field, the Sorceress of Castle Grayskull (Christina Pickles) is at the mercy of her boney captor.
 

 

In case it isn't obvious, Eternia is at war, and with Castle Grayskull in the hands of Skeletor, He-Man, a warrior who fights evil for a living, isn't too pleased by this turn of events. Deciding to blow off some steam, He-Man confronts a small group of Skeletor's troops as they're making their way to Castle Grayskull. Using his fists, his sword, and the laser guns dropped by the troops he's already dispatched to work his way through their ranks, He-Man soon realizes that he might have taken on more than he can handle. Luckily, Teela (Chelsea Field) and Man-at-Arms (Jon Cypher) show up just in time to blast the remaining troops with their trusty laser guns.
 

 

What I liked about this battle sequence is how they combined melee weapons with energy weapons. I mean, I was expecting sword play (He-Man is rarely seen without his giant sword), but the laser shootouts were a pleasant surprise, as I find laser blasts, especially the pink and red variety, to be aesthetically pleasing. Sticking with the things that please me theme, I also found the black outfits worn by Skeletor's troops to be well-designed, or, to put it another way, they were pretty fucking cool.
 

 

Free tip for all you amateur despots out there: If you want the forces under your command to remain loyal, give them uniforms like the one's Skeletor's troops wear in Masters of the Universe, as they will fight harder knowing they look like a bunch of bad asses.
 

 

Keen observers probably notice that the troops He-Man attacked were transporting something in some sort of net. What could it have been? Well, I'll tell you what it was. It was Billy Barty! That's right, the one and only Billy Barty is in Masters of the Universe, and he steals scenes with a breathtaking ease. Playing a master locksmith and inventor named Gwildor, Billy Barty (Skatetown, U.S.A.), who is wearing a thick of layer prosthetic makeup and a red fright wig, manages to bring some much needed humour to the proceedings. Anyway, after thanking them for rescuing him from Skeletor's troops, Gwildor takes He-Man, Man-At-Arms, and Teela to his home to show them his latest invention, the "Cosmic Key," a device that allows people to travel to other worlds and dimensions simply by pushing a few buttons.
 

 

So, you can see why Skeletor would want to get a hold of the inventor of such a contraption. Actually, I have no idea why Skeletor would want to procure the talents of Gwildor. Don't you see? If Skeletor can travel to any time or place simply by pressing a few keys, that means no-one is safe from Skeletor's in your face brand of tyranny. According to Skeletor, he, and I quote, "must possess everything, or possess nothing." Most people will agree, that's a pretty lousy philosophy. But what do you expect from from a megalomaniacal cape enthusiast who doesn't have skin?
 

 

Using a secret underground passageway located in Gwildor's crib to enter Castle Grayskull's throne chamber, He-Man, Gwildor, Man-At-Arms, and Teela quickly find themselves in a laser gun fight with Skeletor's guards. On top of the sweet laser gun effects, the best part of this particular sequence was when Man-At-Arms, noticing that the Sorceress, a beloved figure on Eternia, is being mistreated by Skeletor, says something to effect of: "How dare you treat the Sorceress so shoddily." To which Skeletor replies: "I dare anything! I am Skeletor!" Fuck yeah you are.
 

 

Realizing that they're up shit's creek without a plunger or some kind of snake, He-Man tells Gwildor to use his cosmic key to get them the hell out of there. Unable to set specific coordinates, the foursome have no choice but to jump through the portal the cosmic key has created. Where they end up is anyone's guess, but we know, judging by the cow they come across, they've landed on Earth, "a primitive and tasteless planet," Skeletor's words, not mine. After Gwildor has finished clearing his gills (he landed face first in a bog), they split up in order to find the cosmic key (it must have landed somewhere nearby). As they're splitting up, I couldn't help but notice they all say "good journey" to one another as they part ways. I don't know 'bout you, but I like the expression "good journey," it has a certain understated sincerity about it that didn't make me want to gag.
 

 

Meanwhile, a young Earth woman named Julie (Courtney Cox), is taking her last order at Robby's, a fast food joint that specializes in fried chicken and ribs (the staff wear red and white gingham shirts with a blue handkerchief tied around their necks), as she plans on leave in a few days. Her boyfriend, Kevin Corrigan (Robert Duncan McNeill), a keyboard player, and, as we'll soon find out, a master songmaker, who is not pleased with her decision to skip town, yet he is trying to be supportive. Which he does by accompanying her to the cemetery to visit the graves of her dead parents. As they're leaving, they stumble, you guessed it, the cosmic key. Of course, Kevin immediately thinks it's some kind of newfangled synthesizer, but we all know that it's more than that.
 

 

When Kevin, like any keyboard player would, starts pushing the keys, Evil-Lyn begins to track its location using her own cosmic key. In the meantime, she instructs her minions to assemble the mercenaries: Blade (Anthony De Longis), a bald swordsman with an eye-patch, Saurod (Pons Maar), a lizard-like creature, The Beastman (Tony Carroll), a beast...man, and, my personal favourite, Karg (Robert Towers), a reptilian creature with beady eyes and a gray Dolly Parton wig. I don't know, I found myself strangely transfixed by Karg, as there was something about him that was oddly endearing. I think it had something to do with the fact that he looked weird and that he was the mercenary with the most dialogue, as the others merely make guttural noises.

 

 

As expected, when the mercs arrive on Earth, all hell breaks loose. It would seem that the fight for Eternia has come to Main Street, U.S.A., more specifically Charlie's Music Store, the place for all your synthesizer and keyboard needs. Well, it was the place until He-Man, Man-At-Arms, Teela (who declares herself "Woman-At-Arms" after an awesome display of raygun markswomanship), The Beastman, Detective Lubic (James Tolkan), a shoot first ask questions later cop ("Nobody takes pot shots at Lubic!"), and about about a dozen of Skeletor's crack troops get though with it. Let's have a brief moment of silence for Charlie's Music Store. And, while we're at it, let's have one for the brave Air Centurions (a special class of soldier who fly around on hover discs) who gave their lives for Skeletor's misguided cause so selflessly. Okay, now let's roll our eyes at the gratuitous Burger King product placement. I mean, what the fuck was that?
 

 

I've stalled long enough, Meg Foster is da bomb as Evil-Lyn, the overly obsequious witch with the most alabaster skin this side of Snake Mountain. Oh, and yeah. That's right. I'm bringing back "da bomb." Other than being too eager to please Skeletor, I thought Evil-Lyn was pretty much perfect. How can you not love a woman who pretends to be Courtney Cox's dead mother in order to manipulate her to do her bidding? Sure, her taste in mercenaries is a tad suspect (they can't even capture a defenseless Courtney Cox), but have you seen her outfit? It's an ornate as all get out.
 

 

Covered with detailed metal work, its designer, Julie Weiss, must have put a lot of work into its creation, because the lavish get-up would not look out of place on the runways of Paris, Milan, or even Etobicoke. Which is a high compliment for a movie that features a scene where Billy Barty steals a bucket of baby back ribs with a grappling hook. And it's no surprise that Meg Foster, an actress with the dreamiest eyes I have ever scene, fills the costume with a malevolent ease. Favourite Evil-Lynism: "Outnumbered? Outclassed is more like it." A line she utters after Karg tells her the reason he failed to procure the Cosmic Key; which, as I'm sure most of you have already noticed, has a similar grammatical structure to that of cEvin Key, one of the founding members of Skinny Puppy. How did you ever manage to namedrop Skinny Puppy in a piece on Masters of the Universe? Hey, it's what I do. Whatever. As they say on Eternia: Good Journey. 

uploaded by kegorogers

Death Spa (Michael Fischa, 1988)

Even though your average person can probably afford to jump around in skintight clothing in the privacy of their own home, the desire to have others gauge the gradual remolding of your soon to be taut physique in a public setting remains as strong as ever. Whoa, wait a minute, glancing over the content of the semi-coherent sentence you just scribbled, it sounds like your about to start typing a bunch of words that may or may not pertain to a film that takes place in the dewier than normal world of physical fitness. Nicely done, my highly perceptive, chromosome-filled friend, you're absolutely right. The genitals are packed tight, the legwarmers have been laundered to perfection, the thongs are ready to be forcibly excavated from their rectal prisons at any given moment, and an armada of saucy headbands await to be bombarded with the saltiest sweat you can throw at them, it's time once again to combine rigorous exercise with grisly murder. Whose turn is it now to haphazardly smash the two unrelated activities together, you ask? Why it's filmmaker Michael Fischa (My Mom's a Werewolf) and his cagey team of writers, Mitch Paradise and James Bartruff, of course. An electrical storm is wreaking havoc in the sky above the Starbody Health Spa, a computerized health club that is practically crying out for a faceless killer with no morals whatsoever. A bolt of lightning zaps its neon sign, which shorts out most of the letters. All that's left is the 'd' in starbody, the 'ea' and 'th' in health, and the word "spa" manages to escape the storm with its grammatical integrity intact. (Word puzzle enthusiasts are already way ahead of me.) In an eerie twist, the sign now reads "Death Spa." Yeah, that's right, the new name of the spa is the same as the title of the movie we are watching. How freaky is that? (You know an exercise-based horror film is doing something right when the unveiling its title causes my inner half-wit to get all in a tizzy.)

Is Death Spa able to sustain the momentum it achieved with its stunning opening? You better believe it. However, I must say, I did have my doubts. The idea of watching yet another shadowy assailant slaughter people after they're done performing aerobics was not something I was looking forward to. I don't care how many firm crotches you shove in my face. That doubt simply melted away, much like the skin of the film's many victims, the moment Mr. Fischa tricks us into thinking we're watching something we're not.

Leading us into the spacious spa (fluid camera work interspersed with sinister-sounding synthesizer flourishes), the director gives us the impression that we are looking through the eyes of a deranged killer. But what get instead is the first of many sly, Ken Foree-related misdirections.

What the patrons of the Starbody Health Spa should be fearing is the spa itself. Whether it be scalding sauna steam, loose diving board screws, or shower tiles masquerading as deadly projectiles, there is definitely something iffy going on at this place. Owner Michael Evans (William Bumiller), still shaken by the recent suicide of his wife Catherine (Shari Shattuck), is concerned that his current ladyfriend Laura (Brenda Bakke) is going down the same road that his paraplegic, self-immolating spouse did when her eyes get burned by low grade chlorine vapor while sprawling seductively in the spa's state-of-the-art sauna. To make matters worse, while detectives (Francis X. McCarthy and Rosalind Cash) are investigating the sauna incident, a woman in an extremely tight one-piece swimsuit takes an awkward tumble off a faulty diving board. Oh, and shortly after that, a musclebound fella nearly gets torn to pieces by a yellow weight machine.

The bulk of the suspicion for these "accidents" is placed squarely on the delicate shoulders of Michael's former brother-in-law David (Merritt Butrick), the spa's resident computer expert. Why, you ask, does a health spa have a computer expert? Well, you see, everything at Starbody Health Spa is run by a kind of super computer, one that takes up an entire room, and David, it seems, is the only one who knows how to operate the complex behemoth.

As you would expect, Michael wants to shutdown the spa's computer–you know, until they can figure out what's causing all these "accidents." The tech-savvy David thinks turning it off won't make a difference since the computer doesn't control diving board screws or shower tiles. On the other hand, Michael's lawyer Tom (Robert Lipton) and Priscilla (Alexa Hamilton), the spa's attractive manager, definitely want to keep it on, as making tons of money seems to be their primary concern.

Did I mention that Michael is having these vivid nightmares that involve his wheelchair-bound wife setting herself on fire and thinks feeding his temporally blind girlfriend asparagus is the epitome of eroticism? No? Well, he is and he does.

While containing numerous attempts to mislead the audience, a couple of workout montages, one shower scene, and a bizarre moment where one heterosexual man compliments another heterosexual man on the cuteness of his shorts, it was the film's supernatural elements that separated Death Spa from the overcrowded spa-set slasher heard. Also, the gore had an explosive quality about it that was fresh and exciting. What I mean is the blood seems to spew rather than ooze, and, on some strange level, I appreciated that. In addition, never before have I seen a man get his throat torn out by a frozen fish moments after he failed to save a female bartender from having her hand shredded by a homicidal blender.

The film, on the whole, had a slightly off quality about it that I found oddly appealing. You know what I mean, there was just something wonky about its aura that made me want to cancel my non-existent health spa membership. Don't get me wrong, the film is as well-made as a movie called "Death Spa" can be, the synthesizer score (Peter Kaye) was top-notch and production design (Robert Schulenberg) was superb. I just felt a deep sense of uneasiness as I watched the melting flesh unfold.

In terms of wearing a leotard in a manner worthy of a million excessively worded sonnets, I think I'm going to have to nominate the gorgeous Chelsea Shield as the gal who did the acclaimed garment the most proud (she also sports an understated side ponytail at one point). Oh, sure, her dialogue was sparse, and she doesn't do a single jumping jack during the entire movie, but the whimsical spin she engages in as she impishly navigates the spongy floor of the spa's weight room was a pure joy to revel in.

The so-called "Chelsea Field Death Spa Spandex Spin" (I know, as far as made-up titles go, it needs a little work) is the stuff of snugly attired legend in my mind. The way the dingy spa lighting bounced off the white spandex pressing tightly against her robust thighs was bewitching. And I wasn't the only one who thought Chelsea was the cats pajamas, a weight lifter says to her, after she's completed her famous spandex spin, "I'm Beta, you're VHS." Which I think is a compliment. (Okay, the more I think about it, and believe me, I've thought about it, the more I think that guy was insulting Darla.) Having to deal with defective diving boards, lethal shower tiles, and videocassette-based put-downs, I'm surprised Darla stuck around as long as she did.

Acting wise, I'd have to say the vastly underrated Brenda Bakke and her deceptively brilliant turn as Michael's wounded girlfriend was the film's strongest performance. Her multifaceted turn was a wonder to behold, as she repeatedly navigated the realm that divides campy horror acting from its more highfalutin cousin with a breathtaking ease. Boasting the kind of legs that could destroy entire planets, Brenda exposes her juicy stems with a profound recklessness at the beginning and end of the film. However, it's when her eyes are bandaged, that Brenda's true talent comes screaming to the forefront. Her best scene is when Merritt Butrick pops by to menace her. It's the sort of acting you see win awards and junk, as it contains a hidden depth. In fact, she's so awesome in the middle section of Death Spa, that I thought they (the producers) had replaced her with a different actress after her character's toxic sauna ordeal.

There's an extended shower scene included to satisfy those who receive pleasure from the sight of naked women bathing while standing in an upright position. Personally, I was appalled by this sequence, but somehow managed to enjoy it from an anthropological point-of-view. You see, the problem with nudity is that it disorientates the viewer. The brain can't focus on his or her favourite body part when clothing is totally removed from the equation. And when all you're left with is an ill-defined slab of meat, future trouser wetness is in no way guaranteed. Stop playing with your rock hard nipples and put a fucking bra on!

With Chelsea Field dominating the proceedings with her immense beauty and Brenda Bakke uttering dialogue like a some kind of leggy acting machine who, for all intents and purposes, could be a ravenous hosebeast hellbent on world destruction, you'd think there wouldn't be much room for anyone else to move as a fry cook, I mean, as a Death Spa notable. If you think that, your brain must not work good.

While they may not shine as bright as the Field-Bakke combo did in this flick, you can't knock Karen Michaels as the spa's bumble bee costumed bar tender; Alexa Hamilton and her pink curve hugging power dress; Tané McClure (who delivers groceries to the recently maimed in white leather); Cindi Dietrich as Linda, a flirty spa patron (sporting the kind of boots you might see Jeana Tomasina wear in a ZZ Top video); Karyn Parsons (Fresh Prince of Bel-Air) as the flirty spa patron's best friend (her television static inspired dress was truly to die for); Vanessa Bell Calloway (rocking a minimalist bikini like nobody's business); and the rainbow pantied ladies of the Starbody Health Spa change room for trying.

You'll notice that I mentioned one piece of clothing each when listing all the women who were not named Field or Bakke. Well, that's because I was so impressed with wardrobe designer Katherine Sparks, that I felt I the need to highlight some of her outstanding work. Unlike Stacey McFarland, who was the chief leotard wrangler for Killer Workout (a.k.a. Aerobicide), Miss Sparks' take on spandex and swimwear was much more practical. Without sacrificing style or colour, she employs kneepads, colour blocking, harlequin clown costumes, and a ton of mismatched garments to create an authentic, disorganized quality. The implementation of these stylistic choices have lead me to believe that Katherine was trying convey the physical and economic hardship of the spa patrons. Which, you gotta admit, is not something most aerobics-based horror movies usually convey. Anyway, Death Spa is yet another fine addition to the aerobicspolitation sub-genre.

video uploaded by Warwolf2008

You can check out Chelsea's spin firsthand in a fan-made music video for the Crystal Castles' song "Courtship Dating" (watch Chelsea twirl at around the 45 second mark), and you can also view the Japanese opening titles, and other Death Spa-related clips, over at Scandy Tangerine Man's exploitation friendly YouTube channel.

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