How bad is the slasher movie suckfest that is Girls Nite Out? So bad that its very existence is a paradoxical phenomenon I have named the GNO Enigma. It works like this: The plot and characters of Girls Nite Out are so derivative that the film owes its entire creation to the filmmakers’ repeated viewings of Friday the 13th and National Lampoon’s Animal House, while at the same time, the film is so incompetently made that it actually becomes inconceivable that they have ever seen another movie, much less the ones they’re so transparently ripping off.
Ignoring such traditional bad-slasher-movie features such as terrible acting, repellent characters and a script (written by four people!) that wastes a full third of its running time on a romantic subplot that is never resolved and has nothing to do with the actual story, Girls Nite Out shows a remarkable ability to fuck up on virtually every technical level.
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!
I’d summarize the plot, which involves a maniac killing college kids while dressed in an adorable bear mascot costume, but I refuse to spend more time thinking about it than the producers did. Don’t watch this movie. For the love of whatever deity you choose, do not watch this movie! —Allan Mott
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.
“The Closet” is about a monster in a closet, every bit as original and exciting as its title. “Groovy Ghoulie Garage” is just as stupid as its title would lead you to believe, about a gas station populated by ghosts. “Howling Nightmare” is about a werewolf, “Sucker” is about a unique vacuum cleaner, and the entire film itself is about 88 minutes too long.
