The Single Girls (1973), also known under the rather bland monikers Bloody Friday and Private School, is a film that exists in a strange middle ground. It is a mishmash of exploitation tropes, light comedy, and a dash of thriller, served on a platter that’s more or less lukewarm. Directed by Beverly and Ferd Sebastian, the film could easily slip through the cracks of your memory unless you’re a connoisseur of early ’70s exploitation or a fan of the underappreciated Claudia Jennings.
The plot is as thin as a beach towel left out in the sun—young men and women travel to a Caribbean resort with the noble aim of “finding themselves” sexually. It’s like The Love Boat met Psycho and decided to have a twisted one-night stand. Unfortunately, one of the guests on this sexual self-discovery journey has also developed a penchant for murder. This setup offers plenty of potential for a cheesy, campy good time, but instead, it’s too caught in its own bland execution to make much of an impact. You can almost hear the filmmakers chuckling to themselves as they slap this together, thinking, “Hey, we’ve got murder and sex, what’s not to like?”
And yet, the movie holds a certain charm—especially in the form of Claudia Jennings. She plays Allison, a character who could have easily been a walking stereotype, but with Jennings’ performance, she adds a certain spark that elevates the otherwise lackluster material. There’s an undeniable energy to her, an allure that both commands attention and makes you wish the rest of the film could be just as compelling. Jennings, who was one of the more notable sexploitation stars of the time, is the best thing this movie has going for it. Without her, The Single Girls would be little more than a forgotten relic of a genre that peaked and then quickly burned out.
The rest of the cast is a mixed bag. Jean Marie Ingels and Greg Mullavey do their best to add some flavor, but they’re not given much to work with. Mullavey plays George, one of the men on the resort, who’s basically just there to fill the role of the generic “guy who’s probably up to no good.” The performances are rarely anything more than serviceable, with the occasional line or delivery that hints at a missed opportunity. The characters are stereotypes—there’s the carefree party girl, the morally righteous guy, the couple that seems like they belong in a different movie entirely—but none of them bring enough to the table to make you care when the inevitable murders start occurring.
The film also attempts to add a bit of spice with its soundtrack, featuring “Ms. America,” co-written and performed by Bobby Hart of The Monkees fame. The music, like much of the film, feels out of place, but in a way that makes you chuckle. It’s one of those little quirks that’s unintentionally amusing—like the filmmakers thought, “Let’s add a catchy tune to lighten up the killing spree.” It’s a tone that never quite gels, but it’s also hard to deny the weird charm it brings to the table.
When it comes to the murder mystery itself, the film stumbles in its attempt to balance suspense with its light-hearted, sexy premise. The killer’s identity is less a mystery and more of an afterthought. When the deaths start happening, they are hardly shocking—more like a way to pad out the runtime. And when the killer is finally revealed, it’s almost a relief. The film’s attempt at building suspense is about as effective as a wet napkin at a barbecue. If you’ve seen enough exploitation films, you’ll likely have pegged the murderer long before the big reveal, and that’s part of the problem. The Single Girls seems content to coast on its risqué premise, expecting the sex appeal and gore to carry the load. But it’s not enough to mask the lack of genuine thrills or depth.
Visually, the film is forgettable, with a few scenic shots of the Malibu coastline to remind you that this movie is supposed to be set in paradise. Yet, even the idyllic location feels wasted. It’s as if the film forgot it was supposed to be a tropical murder mystery and instead just turned into an awkward vacation video with a handful of grisly moments thrown in for good measure. There’s no real attempt to create a sense of place, no mood or atmosphere to speak of. It’s a missed opportunity, especially considering the lush backdrop of Malibu and the potential to make the resort feel like a living, breathing part of the story.
The direction by the Sebastians is, at best, competent, but it never rises above the material. They attempt to inject some energy into the film, but it’s clear that they’re working with limited resources and even less ambition. The film’s pacing is slow and uneven, and you can almost feel the tedium of watching characters talk about their romantic misadventures while waiting for the next murder to take place. It’s like watching a low-budget soap opera that accidentally stumbled onto a slasher set.
In the end, The Single Girls is a film that has some redeeming qualities, but it’s ultimately a far cry from being a classic of the genre. The performances are passable at best, with Claudia Jennings being the standout, and the film’s attempt to balance sex, comedy, and murder ultimately falls flat. It’s not a total disaster, but it’s far from being a hidden gem. If you’re a fan of ’70s exploitation films, you might find some mild enjoyment here, but for most, it’s likely to be a forgettable experience. The movie is neither as thrilling as it hopes to be nor as tawdry as it aspires to. Like a resort vacation gone wrong, you might be tempted to leave before the end.
