Blood, guts and boobs – in short, Pieces. What more could you want from a Spanish slasher that is trying to pose as an American giallo? The flick Pieces has a delirious script, which someone chopped up into pieces to haphazardly cobble them together. The brilliantly retarded giallo, which features kung-fu, a Spanish Bud-Spencer-wannabe, sexy aerobics, deadly pool fishing and other curiosities, is crowned by a respectable chainsaw body count on a polished campus. The gore in this dysfunctional whodunit is a far cry from ketchup blasts. The slasher killing does not lack butchery ingenuity, surprising in its animalistic depiction of brutality that can only be rivaled by an overabundance of natural nudity, in all its curly hairiness. Pieces also aspires to offer the best ending in the history of cinema ever.
