Like Andrea Bianchi's Massacre the making of a horror film is the backdrop for a horror film. Unlike Andrea Bianchi's Massacre this film by Bava-the-younger is not totally hopeless. However, despite some pretty decent gore, in particular a bathroom kill that echoes the giallo in it's prime a decade earlier, the lower production values and extremely limited location range emphasise an ebbing Italian horror wave.
The film features some bollocks about tennis balls, under-uses every Italian genre film fan's favourite horror-moppet Giovanni Frezza and includes some extremely unconvincing situations as a musician, his girlfriend and caretaker fail to notice a serial killer going about their thing in the house as assorted characters show up at random, introduce themselves, make themselves at home and then get killed.
It all feels a little cheap in a Touch of Death kind of way without having the saving grace of the politically incorrect shennanigans and excessive gore of Lucio's horror quickie.
For what it is worth Michele Soavi, Mr Cemetery Man himself, is in this.