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An atrocity festival like Class of 1984 no longer terrifies, or even disgusts, the moviegoers for whom it is made. They appraise the carnage as dispassionately as coroners, occasionally nodding in approval and murmuring, "Hmm, haven't seen that before." The violence in this vigilante farce is too preposterous to make anyone wince, or to remind teen-agers of the real high schools they will be entering this week. Life is different outside the cartoon corridors of Contact High. And nobody but a connoisseur of trash ever got an education from a bad movie.
—R. C.