I reckon I’ve seen about 50,000 serial killers, mad slashers, axe murderers, head-choppers and eye-gougers in the movies—and if I had to name a favorite one right now, I’d go with Paz de la Huerta’s shapely, bloodthirsty Nurse Abigail. She’s crazy and so are her curves. She looks exactly like how you’d want a woman named Paz de la Huerta to look. There are parts of South Central Texas that don’t have as many hills and valleys as Ms. De La Huerta has packed into her one-size-too-small array of outfits. Freddy Krueger can’t compete with that. Her nurse uniform looks so tight it’s no wonder that she keeps taking it off, sometimes right in the middle of a fresh kill for no reason. Whatever makes her comfortable is fine with me, though. Call it exploitation, I call it respiration.
In between peeling off every stitch of clothing she has on, Paz also does a lot of killing to settle her nerves. At first, her targets are married men who are about to commit as many sins as they can with her in twenty minutes in a parked car or on a nightclub rooftop. Eventually, you figure out that she just likes killing without much of an agenda. She also likes girls, with particular interest in the peaches-and-cream new blonde in the nurse crew. Only problem: the blonde is hetero and has a boyfriend. All that means to Paz though is an opportunity to hack and slash everyone the blonde knows and cares about. It’s her way of proving her devotion. Makes sense to me.
In a world where even B-movies sometimes bend to political correctness standards, this one dares to be 100% sleaze. It brings the good stuff: the gratutious nudity, the excessive blood and the story that flies against all logic. It warms your weirdo heart. Nurse truly heals.