There are bad slashers, and then there are bad German slashers set in a Czech water park with James McAvoy in pre-fame purgatory. Swimming Pool (a.k.a. The Pool in the US, a.k.a. Der Tod feiert mit in Germany, which roughly translates to “Death Crashes the Party”) is the kind of movie that makes you wonder if chlorine fumes got into the script meetings. It wants to be a stylish Euro Scream, but instead it’s what happens when you give a film school final project a six-pack of Jägermeister and tell it to just “have fun with it.”
Chlorinated Setup
The film begins with Catherine preparing dinner for her boyfriend, only to find him in his car with his throat cut, followed by a masked killer tossing her into—you guessed it—a swimming pool. It’s the kind of opening kill that should set the tone for a campy good time. Instead, it sets the tone for a ninety-minute game of “guess which international student is about to belly flop into a machete.”
We’re then introduced to the cast: a United Nations of cannon fodder. There’s Sarah, the American Final Girl; Carmen, the German; Diego, the Argentinian; Kim, the Aussie; Mike, the Scot; Frank, the Brit; and assorted extras who exist solely to be sliced like overripe fruit. If you’ve ever wanted to see Euro Disney’s brochure for “Cultural Exchange Students in Peril,” this is it.
Killer in a Water Park (Or, Lifeguard Needed)
The gang breaks into an indoor water park to party, because apparently Prague nightlife wasn’t enough. The set piece is actually genius in theory: imagine the creepy, echoing emptiness of a water park at night, all the slides and pools bathed in sterile fluorescent light. In practice, though, it looks like a youth hostel field trip sponsored by Red Bull.
The killer wears a skull mask that looks like it came from a Spirit Halloween clearance bin, and his weapon of choice is a machete. Because nothing screams aquatic horror like a blade more suited for jungle exploration. But hey, if you can’t be thematic, at least be blunt.
Deaths by Design (and by “design,” I mean half-baked ideas)
The kills are a mixed bag:
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Carter gets stabbed while waiting for his girlfriend at the bottom of a waterslide. Nothing says romance like being impaled while wet.
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Svenja gets her groin impaled by a machete shoved through the slide she’s riding down. Which is either horrifying or the worst PSA about water park safety ever filmed.
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A girl gets chased through a locker room like it’s a Benny Hill sketch minus the saxophone.
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Characters drown, stab, and burn each other in sequences that feel like the director just wanted to use every corner of the water park rental agreement.
The problem? None of it is scary. It’s just wet. Very, very wet.
Characters: A Shallow End of the Gene Pool
You don’t watch slashers for complex character arcs, but Swimming Pool really tests that patience. Sarah is bland enough to make you root for the killer just to inject some energy into her storyline. Carmen exists mostly to scowl and survive longer than her contract probably allowed. Mike, played by a baby-faced James McAvoy, spends most of the movie proving that even great actors have embarrassing skeletons in their filmography closet.
Then there’s Frank, the killer. His motive? He’s mad because none of the women liked him back. That’s it. It’s basically Incels: The Movie. He might as well have shouted “Nice guys finish last!” while swinging his machete. By the time Sarah sets him on fire with vodka and he cannonballs into the pool, you’re not scared—you’re just jealous of his commitment to staying hydrated.
Logic-Free Lap Swim
The film also suffers from Olympic-level lapses in logic. For instance:
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Why do the students have to break into a water park when they’re clearly rich enough to just rent it?
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Why does the killer set up elaborate chases instead of just stabbing everyone in the parking lot?
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Why does no one notice the body count piling up until half the group is already floating face down?
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And why, in God’s name, does the killer use a machete instead of, say, drowning victims? You’re in a water park, man. Commit to the theme.
This is the slasher equivalent of hosting a murder mystery at a bowling alley and then refusing to use the ball return.
Production Values: The True Horror
Visually, the movie looks like a Eurotrash music video from 1998. There are random shots of neon lights, quick cuts to nothing in particular, and lots of gratuitous close-ups of water dripping. The soundtrack is an unholy mix of techno beats and ominous “dun-dun” stings, as if the composer couldn’t decide between rave culture and horror clichés.
The direction is flat, the pacing is bloated, and the atmosphere is nonexistent. If the intent was to make the audience feel trapped in a chlorine-scented hellscape, mission accomplished.
McAvoy, Fisher, and Other Victims of Casting
The cast list today reads like a “before they were famous” special. James McAvoy went on to be Professor X, but here he’s just “guy who dies in a duct.” Isla Fisher, now a Hollywood regular, plays Kim, who fails an exam and then fails to survive Act One. If nothing else, Swimming Pool proves that everyone has embarrassing skeletons—or corpses in the shallow end.
Final Splashdown
By the time the movie reaches its climax—Sarah stabbing Frank with a broken bottle, Greg punching people underwater, and Carmen miraculously reappearing with a gun—you’re too tired to care. The killer dies (again, wet), the survivors limp away, and the audience is left wondering if they’ve just watched a horror movie or a very dark Aqua Aerobics promotional reel.
Verdict
Swimming Pool (2001) is a slasher with all the depth of a kiddie pool and half the fun. It wastes a great setting, squanders future talent, and delivers kills so silly they make you long for Jason Voorhees to cannonball in and show these amateurs how it’s done. The only thing scary about it is the thought of how much money was spent renting that water park.
If you’re into bad horror with a Euro-disco vibe, it might make for a drunken watch party. Otherwise, this film deserves to stay exactly where its bodies end up: face down, floating, and forgotten.
