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A series of murders rock a dance academy in New York in which the mysterous directress, Candice, sets out to find the kiler, with a little assistance from a shady male model, named George, who has a hidden agenda for her as does she for him. Written by
I'm not going to dwell on the usual flaws, like woeful acting, inane story, they come with the territory, and I'm not going to dwell on the Flashdance influence, Fulci was known to ply his trade where ephemeral trends were expected to swing, it's how we got Zombi. Flashdance at the time would only perhaps have made apparent that horror set in a dance studio would be a natural idea, Argento had mined this.
Is it our job anyway as horror viewers to criticize acting or look down on influence? No, the real damning thing is the absence of an atmosphere that envelops; so much fuss is made here about a superficial mystery with suspects being paraded, so little energy invested in place, bodies, the swirl of madness. Fulci tries here and there, a few tricks with mirrors, a scene of hallucination, but it's all trivial spattering.
The appearances of the killer show this, each time a black-gloved hand reaches out from below a first-person camera to victims' faces that just stand there and only grimace a fake horror for the camera; mechanical.
None of other comments mention what has to be one of the most random things in movies; a girl has been left alone after practice in the lockerroom so we can have a first murder, a stern voice then comes in through the PA to announce the place is going to be locked down in a few minutes (a dance studio!), the voice sounds like it's warning NASA employees of a shutdown and for no reason lights begin to flash.
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