An attractive, young coed from a wealthy family is left with partial amnesia after suffering through a traumatic incident everyone around her prefers to pretend never happened. A kindly psychologist attempts to help her recover her lost memories, while she deals with the perils of fitting in with her school’s most popular clique. But when people start dying around her, it becomes obvious that either she’s completely crazy or has a psychotic doppelgänger she doesn’t know about.
Sound familiar? It should if you’ve ever seen the 1981 slasher classic Happy Birthday to Me, but — as you’ve already guessed — I’m actually describing The Initiation, which was made three years later and shares virtually the exact same plot.
Based on my fondness for HB2M (which I would happily list among my top five slashers), you’d think this would cause me to dismiss The Initiation as an unworthy copycat, but it’s actually a pretty decent flick, despite its lack of originality. The principal reason: a script that takes pains to develop real, likable characters who we sympathize with, which makes it something of a revelation in a genre where it’s normal for everyone other than the lone female protagonist to be an asshole who needs to die.
As the heroine, Daphne Zuniga (who gets an “introducing” credit, despite her appearance as a human speed bump in the awful The Dorm That Dripped Blood two years earlier) nearly makes you forget Melissa Sue Anderson, but your heart will ultimately belong to Marilyn Kagen and Trey Stroud, whose sweet, shopping-mall intimacy dooms them while simultaneously allowing them to transcend their clichéd roles of uptight prude and practical joker.
While not quite an unrecognized classic, The Initiation is still a far better film than it has any right to be. Just make sure you check out Happy Birthday to Me first. —Allan Mott
Look! Over there, emerging from the car, it’s Mr. Peter Cushing, ladies and gentlemen! He’s Baron Corofax and he owns the castle o’er yonder, which is one of the oldest pagan sites in the country! And hey, let’s all give a hearty wave to Donald Pleasence as Father Roche! Hi, Father! Looks like he’s got a lot on his mind. This whole village is possessed by the devil, you see!
It would be impossible to list all of them in detail, but my favorite has to be the movie’s reliance on the only three songs its producers could afford to license. Imagine watching a movie where the entire soundtrack is comprised of Ohio Express’ “Yummy Yummy Yummy” and The Lovin’ Spoonful’s “Do You Believe In Magic” and “Summer in the City.” Now imagine that a significant part of the movie’s narrative depends on the characters listening to their campus radio station, whose hip, cool-daddy DJ plays only those three terrible songs! 
Must be true, because shortly thereafter, she discovers a rotting corpse in the castle’s underground tunnels, not to mention a caged gorilla. He’s the pet of Lord James (Hiram Keller), who’s possibly insane and rumored to have killed someone, and possibly even has the power to shape-shift. And every time the titular tabby shows up, someone gets killed, thereby putting the “ow” in “meow.” 
As fads-ploitation, Killer Workout is literally nothing more than 30-plus minutes of absurdly sexualized workout footage. As a slasher film, it’s a catastrophic failure. The secret identity of the scarred killer is obvious as soon as she appears onscreen and is the only one dressed in the aerobic version of a burka; nameless victims are introduced in the same scenes where they’re killed; and the hot instructor with the best butt and highest thong is clearly established as the probable protagonist until the screenplay suddenly forgets all about her and decides to kill her off-screen instead.