Coroner’s Report: Bikini Girls on Ice

The Coroner's ReportLike any horror fan, if you approach me with a movie that promises not only girls, but also bikinis, and also murder, I’m going to pop out of my seat with excitement. Such was the case with Bikini Girls on Ice, a Canadian film that snuck across the border and into my DVD player.

Judging from the title alone I thought I was in for some sort of magical Icecapades type film only with more blood and more boobs.

Little did I know that there was no ice skating rink, very few exposed boobs, and that most of the murder would occur off-screen.  This is normally the part of the article where I write the plot down, but even by horror movie standards, the story is thin – as thin as ice, hohoho. As near as I can tell, a bus full of girls on their way to a bikini car wash breaks down at a gas station in the middle of nowhere, so they do the only two logical things: have their car wash anyway and get murdered.


There are approximately twelve kills in the film, though I’ll admit that I started paying less and less attention as the body count rose – a clear sign that the film is doing something wrong. What was it doing wrong? Killing most of the girls mostly off screen.


There are a few kills executed with a sledgehammer, an ice pick to the head, a smaller hammer related death, a dead dog, a smashed bottle stabbing, a gunshot, a neck stab, and a half-way decent throat slit. Most of the ills are actually just the killer swinging an object at the camera while grunting – we see very little gore.


True to the title, there are girls who wear bikinis, so that’s nice. There is also once sex scene where a super slutty girl randomly has sex with some random dude and we see some boobs.


Gas stations in the middle of nowhere are bad places to stop.


Bikini Girls on Ice is an example of what you call “exactly what’s on the tin.” Like Snakes on a Plane or Texas Chainsaw Massacre, we get a literal translation of the title. No, not involving ice skating like I had thought, and hoped. What we get are bikini girls who are killed and then literally put on ice. Like in chests of ice. Or tubs. Of ice. Why? We don’t really know.

The killer is a gas station attendant named Moe who I spent the better (ha! as if there was a better) part of the movie believing to be a janitor, clinging to my desire to see this whole thing go Disney on Ice at any moment. Why is he killing? We don’t know. Why is he putting them on ice? We don’t know. He has a slight pervert angle going, so possibly to preserve them for some molestation later, but that bridge is never crossed.

The biggest letdown in this flick the lack of gore. We “see” lots of “violence” – my abuse of quotations meaning that really, we don’t. We see Moe swinging at stuff, hammering away, but we never really see the results. When we do see a dead girl, she’s only a little bit bloody. No heads caved in, no teeth knocked out. At best there is a decent slit throat, but if you’re looking for blood and guts, look elsewhere.

If you’re looking for originality, you should probably keep looking as well. Just about every kill is exactly the same – a girl walks into a room, the killer steps into frame and knocks her down, then Moe just wails away while all we see is his face. Then he swings some more, upping the violence, but without any visual of what he’s accomplishing, there is no weight behind it.

While some of the girls are good looking (all are bangable, though most are not noteworthy), none are actresses that are going to make you long to see them in more things. All in all, the movie for me is entirely forgettable and for you should be entirely skip-able.

Robert Fure is many things: horror expert, ruggedly handsome man of the world, witty prose composer, and writer of his own biography page. Beneath the bravado is a scared little boy, ready to grow into an awesome man and make lies about a scared little boy inside of him. Wait a minute...

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