My quick rating – 3.9/10. Murdercise came in with that exact kind of reputation that made me suspicious. People online (Twitter) swear it’s “not as bad as it sounds,” which usually means it absolutely is. Just in a way you might weirdly enjoy. And to its credit, the movie wastes zero time letting you know what kind of flick you’re in for. Within minutes, it’s throwing out gratuitous nudity like it’s getting paid per frame, basically screaming, “Yep, we’re doing 80s slasher, cue the tropes.”
Right away, the acting is…something else. We’re talking next-level awkward, stiff, borderline “did they just pull these people off the street?” bad. But here’s the twist. It feels intentional. Like, too bad to be accidental. At a certain point, you start questioning reality a bit. Are they terrible actors, or are they secretly geniuses committing to the bit? Either way, it weirdly works in the movie’s favor. You’re laughing with it. Or at it. Or both at the same time.
But here’s the thing, Murdercise isn’t just blindly copying that era. It’s very clearly taking the piss out of it. Writer/director Paul Ragsdale leans so hard into the clichés that it loops back around into satire. The constant fixation on “tits” isn’t subtle (at all), but that’s part of the joke. It’s less “we’re exploiting this” and more “remember when every horror movie did this for no reason?” The repeated jabs at “Reagan’s America” just pile onto that absurdity in the best way.
The story follows Phoebe, played by Kansas Bowling, a fitness fanatic who stumbles her way from background nobody to…well, something much more unhinged. Her journey takes a wild turn once she links up with Isabella (Nina Lanee Kent), a chaotic mafia princess type, and from there, the movie just spirals into a series of bizarre, often ridiculous murder setups. It should be where the film really shines – but here’s the catch. The kills are surprisingly underwhelming. For a movie that screams “over-the-top slasher,” the lack of memorable gore is a major letdown.
Still, Murdercise knows exactly what it is. It’s loud, shameless, and ridiculously self-aware. It proudly wears its campiness like a badge of honor and dares you not to have at least a little fun with it. Is it good? Not really. Does it fully deliver on the slasher side of things? Also no. But is it strangely entertaining if you’re in the right mood and willing to embrace the nonsense? Absolutely.
Just don’t expect a hidden gem. You’re signing up for a sweaty, neon-soaked experience that occasionally forgets it’s supposed to be a horror movie. And somehow…that’s part of the charm.
