Ain’t no fanatic like a religious fanatic, ’cause religion, that’s some crazy sh*t.
A fairly obvious attempt at blending Herschell Gordon Lewis’ later efforts and classic New York sexploitation with then-trendy television cop show dynamics and some elements of blaxploitation cinema, Massage Parlor Murders comes off as an interesting amalgam. While its intentions are written in broad strokes and large burning letters across the wall (‘mene mene tekel upharsin’, presumably), the end result is all of that and less.
In essence, the film can be best described as a cross between a typical Something Weird film, Code Red’s Mardi Gras Massacre and an early Andy Milligan sexploiter, with touches of the earlier mentioned stylistic elements daubed in for highlights and contrast. While not exactly a failed experiment, it becomes something of an entity (and genre) unto itself, a strange little viper slithering its way back to light from the rubble of a bygone era of what time and time again have been shown to be far more interesting times than the ones we reside in.