This may just feature the most men in tiny speedos that I’ve ever seen in a film before. At least around seventy-five percent of the films budget worth. I cannot state enough how many micro swimming pants there are in this.It’s a kind of a very-much-of-its-time soapy melodrama about a young rich boy who has been abused but who is also coming to terms with his sexuality. And his way of dealing happens to be spending a lot of time in the pool or on the beach and then killing some folks. Most of the kills are pretty bloodless, and so despite what marketing people might tell you, it doesn’t really feel like a slasher. And it never manages to live up, murder wise, to the dude in the opening scene who dies by speer in the butt. Although it does have the heightened argument-based psychological dramatics of a giallo.And there’s sleaze, with plenty of nudity and sex and soaping up in showers and the camera definitely liking to linger over everything those little swim-suits put on offer. All playing out against a gorgeous summer vibes vista, with an overdramatic soundtrack blasting above it.It’s probably less trashy and less thrilling that I think I might be making it sound. I mean a lot of this is just people sitting next to or in water, talking about stuff slightly dramatically. Even being as short as it is, it still found time to drag.
