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Lawrence David Foldes
Lynda Day George
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John F. Goff,
With the British media ramming the London Olympics down our throats in every conceivable way possible, I thought I'd escape the onslaught by watching Fatal Games, an eighties slasher flick where a hooded killer is impaling Olympic wannabes with a javelin.
There's an immediate whiff of vintage cheddar about this film as we see the athletes doing their routines to an eighties theme tune that goes "Winning isn't everything, winning is the only thing" and I don't know about you, but I take great comfort from a slasher film when it includes a nice tune or two. We're introduced to our seven athletes/victims and assorted red herrings/possible killer.
Fatal Games isn't full of imaginative kills. When we get done with all the crap banter and relationships and what not, the killer dispatches his victim with a javelin, and proceeds to do so throughout the film. He also hides the bodies, so there's plenty of head scratching 'where's such and such?' and stalking around the school. However, there's plenty of imagination injected into the stalking itself, as the killer's shadow is projected onto walls, or the killer is lit from the back, which livens things up a bit.
The main 'livening things up' aspect of Fatal Games is the copious nudity shown through the first half of the film. Communal showers, shared saunas, massages, the whole lot is thrown out there to make sure you've got nothing to worry about. It keeps things going while the cast gets whittled down. Apart from that, it is your standard slasher stuff, with someone finding the bodies stashed away somewhere, to the final stalking of the remaining female around the school, etc etc.
For an athletics-based slasher film, it's okay. Very similar to Graduation Day (which is better), but nowhere near the level of lunacy that is Pieces (which also had a swimming pool murder and a locker room murder).
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