Why I Haven't Reviewed "The Rise of Skywalker"

Long-time readers will note that I reviewed both The Force Awakens and The Last Jedi in quick order after watching them. Sadly, subsequent re-watches of those two films only served to diminish my opinion of them, as documented here and here. In fact, I quickly realized that their individual value would hinge, almost exclusively, on the quality of the concluding chapter of this sequel trilogy.  

Indeed, The Rise of Skywalker had a lot riding on it for me. It would either justify the existence of the previous two films or reveal itself as the cinematic equivalent of the "Emperor With No Clothes", I.E. a cynical, hastily-cobbled-together, poorly-conceived and incompetently-executed attempt for Disney to make a return on net assets.  

So, like all other Star Wars fans, I dutifully watched The Rise of Skywalker when it first premiered in theaters back in December of 2019. Unlike most other Star Wars fans, I saw it for free as a guest at a corporate screening. After watching the film, I realized that this was the perfect circumstance in which to take in this latest Star Wars-flavored Disney product. Both the experience, and the movie itself, were cheap and forgettable. 

I was dealing with some pretty heavy stuff around that time, so the last thing I wanted to  dwell on was how my once-beloved space opera, which sparked life-long creativity in me, ended up being complete schlock. Nevertheless, when the thing landed stillborn on home video in April of 2020, I had every intention to sit down, re-watch and review it...but I just couldn't get through it. Then, when it popped up on Disney+ not long after, I tried again...and once again I failed. 

That's right, folks. Me, a die-hard fan since the tender age of 7, couldn't force (no pun intended) myself watch a new Star Wars movie. Was I broken?

Well, last week I finally managed to slog my way through the thing, in three separate sittings, mind you. The one positive take-away from this latest, and hopefully last, viewing is that my brain wasn't broken. Blame for my allergic reaction lies squarely on the shoulders of the "film-makers" and the Dickensian (Disnerian?) slop that they were asking me to choke down. 

In fact, I'll be so bold as to say that The Rise of Skywalker doesn't even warrant a review. Because, based on the parameters my brain has constructed that define what a "motion picture" is, this thing doesn't qualify as a film. An amusement park ride, maybe, but not a film.

Sadly, I wasn't weaned on movies that define "character development" as a few lines of dialogue and "plots" that are little more than a bunch of arbitrary happenings. I've seen every single permutation of special effect, so spectacle is completely wasted on me. If the characters are little more than impressions, if there are no scenes, only set pieces, and if the director is constantly throwing shit at the screen, Jackson Pollock-style, in a blatant attempt to distract the audience from asking questions, it's gonna be thumbs down from me.  

But, hey, that's me, not the average movie-goer. For most people who were bilked into seeing this crap, the visceral experience of watching the film will dazzle them...and then they'll never speak of it again. As if to let the writer and director off the hook, the masses will proclaim "Sure, it wasn't as a good as the older movies, but I didn't expect it to be. I just wanted it to be fun...and it was!" 

And that's precisely why we keep getting so many mediocre, disposable films. Our collective aesthete is broken. Like the collective victims of a mass Jedi Mind Trick, the undiscriminating will settle for less and all we'll ever get is the cinematic equivalent of a Big Mac. Sure, it'll be tasty going down but, in the end, it's unfulfilling, unmemorable and bad for both body and soul. 

So, after this, my final watch of these shitty Disney sequels, I present to you my evidence as to why The Rise of Skywalker isn't really a film, and why it should be treated as such. 

These points fall into two categories: the niggling and the ruinous. And while I'll be the first to admit that nit-picks don't break any movie, here they add up to a pile of reasons why J.J Abrams and writer Chris Terrio (who penned Batman v. Superman, for Chrissake) shouldn't have been allowed within a country mile of this venerable property. It goes to show that these two clowns approached the material as if they were tackling any other dime-a-dozen, brain-dead, tent-pole summer popcorn flick...and not the immortal modern myth that Star Wars, The Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi established so well.    

Beyond these superficial complaints you'll find some truly unforgivable choices which proves that The Rise of Skywalker is completely devoid of creative DNA. It turns the proceedings into little more than a rebuttal against internet rancor and the relatively-bold choices made by Rian Johnson in The Last Jedi. These truly embarrassing, cringe-y decisions just show that that these three films were less the product of artistic inspiration and nothing more than cynical cash-grabs.

Alright, here we go... 

• Why does the title crawl let's the cat out of the bag immediately? Seriously, if you're going to do something so monumentally stupid as to bring Palpatine back, why blow that secret right at the start of the film? Why not give him a fun reveal? 
• Palpatine has a whole vat of pickled Snokes lying around. Why? If the goal was to lure Kylo to the Dark Side and co-ordinate the First Order, why not use a more charismatic figure? Or why not just do it as Palpatine? After all, Kylo seems to have a fetish for Vader, so it stands to reason that he'd be enamored with Vader's master. Wait, this is also the same guy who said "let the past die", so I don't fucking know...
• According to General Pryde, the fleet of underground Star Destroyers were "conjured", presumably by Palpatine. How? Did that include the crew? Why underground? Why in a place nearly impossible to navigate out of? 
• Palpy orders Kylo to "kill the girl" but, as we see towards the end, this is completely anathema to his plan to take over her body. Did they just film a first draft script? Seriously, did anyone else read this before they started shooting?
• Perfect pilot Poe performs multiple hyperspace skips without making calculations, resulting in a bunch of sound and fury, signifying nothing. In the immortal words of a certain scruffy nerf-herder: "Traveling through hyperspace ain't like dusting crops, boy. Without precise calculations we could fly right through a star or bounce too close to a supernova, and that'd end your trip real quick, wouldn't it?" But since Abrams and Terrio desperately want their newer characters to eclipse the older, beloved characters, they're constantly being depicted as impossibly skilled and flawless. Read: boring as fuck.  
• Why is Rey training? She's already perfect at everything. Simple answer: that scene is there to shut up the whiners who complain that Rey is a dull, one-dimensional character who never had to work for anything. 
• "Somehow Palpatine returned." This could very well be the laziest and most unintentionally-funny lines of dialogue in film history. Pretty fucking sad when Star Wars slips into MST3K territory. 
• As if in response to the abject stupidity of that last line, Merry suddenly speculates  that Palpatine came back through the use of "dark science, cloning...secrets only the Sith knew." This one line perfectly encapsulates what's wrong with modern screenwriting: if you fear that the audience can see through your bullshit, just anticipate and rebut it with a few off-the-cuff lines of dialogue. That might work for some people, but to me it reeks of creative fatigue and annihilates the illusion that the film is trying to create.
• Why are left-over CGI assets from Planet of the Apes rebuilding Kylo's helmet?
• To clap back against Rian Johnson ignoring the Knights of Ren, Abrams shoe-horns them back in here just for spite. Which means that they end up being little more than potential action figure sculpts.
• The "mystery" of the "spy." More on this idiocy later, but did anyone out there seriously wrack their brains over who this was? 
• When a trailer featuring stormtroopers driving tracked pursuit vehicles was released, fans lost their collective shit. "In a galaxy with hover technology, why the fuck would the First Order be using something so primitive?" they wondered. Well, I was willing to let that slide...until I actually witnessed this scene and saw how easily they were defeated. So, guess what, anal-retentive peeps, you were right: it is fucking stupid.
• There's a lot of shit dialogue here, but the whole "They fly now!" mock-banter made me cringe so hard I nearly imploded.
• The characters are all thrown from an exploding speeder at 85 miles per hour without a scratch. No risk of injury and death = audience disengagement.
• How the fuck are there tunnels underneath the sinking sand? Why wouldn't the sand fill up said tunnels? How do you get a job writing screenplays when you're this stupid?   
• Finn to Rey: "I never told you...!"  Add this infuriating line to Maz's claim that she'd tell the story of finding Luke's lightsaber at "another time." Seriously, how much did Terrio get paid for this clusterfuck?
• So, across the entire vast surface of this massive planet, the gang somehow manages to find Ochi's speeder, his dead body, the dagger and the wounded snake all in quick succession. To make the best of it, the snake even has the courtesy of busting a hole through the wall to let our heroes escape. Even if the breakneck pace of the film prevents you from dwelling on this parade of nonsense, there's still a subconscious part of your brain that's screaming at how moronic it all is. That's why people first watched this thing as if hypnotized by a laser light show...and then they promptly forgot it even existed. 
• I like how Ochi's ship, which is literally sitting on a pedestal in the desert, hasn't been stripped for parts and it still flies like a dream. I can't believe that there are people out there who swallow this shit just because the word "Star" and "Wars" is in the title.
• Was it Kylo's intent to kill Rey with his low-altitude fly-by? 'Cuz it probably would have made more sense if he, y'know, just strafed her with blaster fire from a distance. Oh, wait, if that happened then Abrams wouldn't have a built-in teaser trailer.
• Kylo's ship has a maximum atmospheric speed of 1,850 kilometers per hour. Even if he was travelling a fraction of that speed, he still walked away from the crash completely unscathed. Look, even space fantasy needs a bit of real-world physical logic or your brain will begin to think its watching a Road Runner short and then completely 'toon out. 
• When Rey inadvertently killed Chewbacca, I remember finally sitting up and taking notice in the theater. "OooOoo," I though to myself. "Nice curve ball! They're finally giving this turkey some weight. Man, Rey is going to be seriously conflicted by this and...no, wait...he's fine." Fuck, I hate this movie so much.
• A ship apparently tracked the heroes to Kijimi. How? 
• Save the epic level of charisma that Oscar Issac brings to the role, Abrams and Terrio realized, all to late, that Poe is a black hole of character development. So, their solution to this is to give him an 11'th hour back-story as a spice runner, completing his "arc" as the poor man's Han Solo.
• Zorii literally goes from wanting to kill Poe and Rey in one scene to saying "I think you're okay!" and "Want to come with me?" in the next. Seriously, does anyone out there think this shit qualifies as a movie, let alone a series of narrative events?
• "Wait...C-3PO is gonna give up his memories to save the Resistance? Wow, that actually kinda gives him a cool arc, taking him from self-preservation to self-sacrifi...oh, no..wait...he's fine..."
• Abrams and Terrio can't figure out how to get our heroes aboard Ren's ship without getting killed, so their solution to this is a priceless magical space coin that lets them land on the ship with no questions asked. Better yet, Zorii freely gives it away to a man she wanted dead just moments ago. 
• Remember when Luke and Han had to dress up like stormtroopers to sneak off the Falcon to avoid getting captured? Well, we don't have time for nuance or logic like that here, so Poe and Finn just blast their way through a closely-monitored docking bay and proceed to run amok throughout the entire ship. Seriously, Hollywood...I can crap out a ton of garbage scripts like this...call me!
• So, lemme get this straight, Rey's parents sold her to Unkar Plutt to "keep her safe"? Huh? In a flashback, they're shown telling Ochi that "she isn't on Jakku...she's gone" and he believed them? Wow, this guy must have had Sith for brains. 
• The fact that Domhnall Gleeson manages to announce "I'm the spy!" with any level of of conviction is truly an Oscar-worthy moment. Oscar Issac and John Boyega also deserve special commendation for communicating epic levels of surprise over this major plot twist.
• Rey is Palpatine's grand-daughter, but this is barely explored in the film. The very concept of this dredges up the worst thoughts imaginable, since Palpy, with his half-melted, ball-sack-style monster face, knocked up some poor woman in the past. Sorry, but the connotations of this are downright repellent.
• Notwithstanding the fact that the Death Star WAS COMPLETELY FUCKING VAPORIZED AT THE END OF RETURN OF THE JEDI, using that blade to pin-point a precise location in the wreckage would only be clever to someone as dim as Abrams and Terrio. The fact that the debris is still intact after sitting in a storm-tossed ocean for twenty years is also ignored. 
• Of all the heroic characters introduced in The Force Awakens, I think Finn was the most original and interesting. Which makes it all the more sad when you realize how criminally under-written he was in all three films. Basically his entire arc boils down to "Yeah, it was the Force...and, no, I won't be taking any questions at this time."     
• True to form, Rey effortlessly pilots a boat through 500-meter waves and climbs through the Death Star wreckage like she's walking across a kitchen floor. Never in the history of fiction has there been a more boring, blank-slate, non-entity than Rey. She's basically a Xanax in Jedi robes. 
• As previously mentioned, Finn is subjected to one indignity after another, not the least of which is screaming Rey's name in a sad plea for attention during her life-or-death fight against Kylo. If I was Rey I would have Force-pushed him right into the nearest bulkhead. 
• It's very poorly communicated, so bear with me if I misinterpreted this. I assume that Leia used the same power that Luke used at the end of The Last Jedi, I.E. she Force-projected herself to distract her son and then died from the exertion? Do I have that right? If so, that's yet another ignominious end for an iconic character but, then again, this entire series is predicated on the youth-pandering message that "young is cool and powerful and old is lame and weak."          
• Related to that last point, my heart breaks for poor Chewbacca, who sees all of his friends die in quick succession. If they were killed off in vaguely respectful or heroic ways, I'd understand, but I really can't shake the suspicion that the elder characters were the victims of hubris and ego. Abrams and Rian Johnson were so intent on making their own paltry characters iconic that they sacrificed the old guard without a second thought.      
• Why does Han appear to Ben? I mean, don't get me wrong, it's actually one of the rare moments of genuine heart in the film, and both actors are fantastic, but it makes zero sense in terms of established Star Wars lore.
• Luke's X-Wing works fine after being submerged in salt water for six years.
• Poor Dominic Monaghan. Not only is he forced to say the previously-derided "secrets only the Sith knew" line, he's actually tasked with clapping back against what some fans thought was a galaxy-breaking scene in The Last Jedi. "We need to pull some Holdo maneuvers," he gamely entreats, "do some real damage" to which Finn replies: "Come on. That move is one in a million." Never in my life have I ever witnessed such a self-referential, ham-fisted, pointed negation in a screenplay before, and it makes my top lip sweat with embarrassment.    
• Say what you want about the prequel trilogy, but at least they paid somebody to design new ships. I mean, they were pretty much all uniformly hideous and unmemorable, but new ships nonetheless. In this creatively-bankrupt piece of shit, the Resistance is still using twenty year old X, Y, B and A-wings. 
• If Palpatine "conjured" up all of these Star Destroyers, why didn't he make on-board navigation beacons a standard option? Oh, right, that would be inconvenient to this brain-dead script. 
• How does Finn know where the nav beacon moves to? Why, it's "THE FORCE"...I.E. the perfect boilerplate excuse whenever something inexplicable happens.
• For those keeping score at home, Palpatine clearly sent Kylo Ren to kill Rey, but later he tells her: "I never wanted you dead; I wanted you here. Kill me and my spirit will pass into you as all the Sith live in me." So, what would have happened to this Machiavellian scheme if Kylo had actually succeeded? 
• It was pretty fucking stupid when Chirrut Îmwe shot down a TIE fighter with a bow in Rogue One and, hey, guess what? It's just as stupid when Janna does it here.
• Who the fuck are all those people in the stands in Palpatine's lair? Are they real? Imagined? Sith spirits? What the fuck is going on here?!?
• How did Kylo get to Exegol? Where did he get the TIE fighter from? How did he navigate there without the wayfinder? Why isn't J.J. Abrams cleaning toilets for a living? 
• Y'know, if I was Kylo Ren and I wanted to create a deadly Sith hit squad named after myself, you know what I'd do? I'D GIVE THEM FUCKING LIGHTSABERS.  
• First off: the concept of a dyad might have been impactful if it had been set up at all...but it wasn't. And why didn't the all-seeing, all-knowing Palpatine sense it at all? 
• In The Force Awakens, mental infant J.J. Abrams had to trump the Death Star with Starkiller Base...which is soooo much bigger-er and better-er 'cuz it has a way-cooler laser beam which can split up into a lot of little laser beams and destroy a bunch more planets at the same time, so it's cooler. Here we're treated to the ludicrous sight of one-hojillion Star Destroyers facing off against Lando's laugh-out-loud, cut n' paste rescue fleet. This level of try-hard hard overcompensation is the biggest tell that your movie has been made by talent-less hacks who've failed to create anything of  substance. 
• Carrying over from the last point is Palpatine's lightning storm. Boy, it's a darned good sight that the Rebellion didn't have to face this juiced-up Emperor, or they would have been proper fucked, amirite? 
• Why are "all the Sith" suddenly in Palpatine? Why are "all the Jedi" in Rey? And, again, I don't give a shit if it's explained in some novel that I gotta buy and read. If it ain't on-screen, it didn't happen.
• Why hasn't Palpatine learned by now that firing Sith lightning into a lightsaber is no bueno? The first time he did it he ended up with a half-melted monster face and this time he completely disintegrates himself. In the immortal words of Bugs Bunny: "What a maroon."   
• Since he didn't hit her with lightning, I assume Rey died because Palpatine sapped her Force energy earlier. But, then again, he did the same exact thing to Kylo...who he  also threw off a cliff. But he came back. Me no unnerstan. 
• Look, I don't have a problem with Force Healing...I used to play the West End Games RPG, after all. I do take umbrage to Kylo BRINGING REY BACK FROM THE DEAD, however.
• In another example of spoon-feeding a needy niche of fans their desired spank material, Rey and Kylo kiss for some fucking unknown reason.
• Why does it take so long for Leia's body to become one with the Force? If you try and tell me that it has something to do with her "sensing the death of her son at the end of her Jedi journey" then, please, bring your face over here, 'cuz I wanna punch it. Frankly, it's ghoulish and disturbing that she's just left there lying underneath a tarp in the background for so long.  
• Given all of these ridiculously-epic, over-the-top space battles, the entire galaxy must be completely choked with garbage. To hell with the Rey, this universe needs a Greta Thunberg.    
• As if  Abrams and Terrio haven't fellated the audience enough, they give Chewie a medal. A fucking MEDAL. Because, y'know, casual fans like Abrams and Terrio like the running joke that the wookiee got shafted at the end of Star Wars. But us true fans really know that this was either because (A) Leia was too short to physically put the medal around his neck (B) Wookiees don't care about medals or (C) Who gives a fuck?
• Why did Rey go to Tatooine...and then bury the lightsabers there? Luke hated the place and Leia had zero connection to it. Serious question to the creatives here: have you guys even seen a star war? 
• Rey Skywalker. Sure, fuck it, why not? 

Let the record show that I take no perverse pleasure out of cataloging this. In fact, here are two complementary things I can say about this pile of trash: the actors are all universally great and the film looks incredible. But that's it...that's I'll I can concede.

I was seriously cheering for this sequel trilogy to succeed all along. But, sadly, wishes don't make things good. The sad reality is that this sequel trilogy had no inspiration, no vision and, as such, it has no reason to exist. 

Like the prequel trilogy, it's another tremendous example of a wasted opportunity. But, as much as I hate those earlier films for being the cock-eyed product of a modestly-talented eccentric shut-in and his platoon of boot-licks, at least they were original. At least they told a coherent story. At least they were born from some sort of creative impulse. They weren't a slap-dash, rushed attempt for a massive corporation to get back their investment as quickly as possible by hiring the modern cinematic equivalent of a snake-oil salesman. 

But, hey, let's not end on a complete downer here. Thanks to genuinely talented, passionate, knowledgeable and visionary fans like Jon Favreau and Dave Filoni, there is still hope for the future. 

Though, this does make me wonder what we might have gotten if these two been charged with making the sequel trilogy...instead of the shysters who conned their way into the job.

   

Movie Review: "Friday the 13'th - The Final Chapter"

No lie, Friday the 13'th: The Final Chapter was actually supposed to be the conclusion to the Voorhees saga. Paramount was getting major heat from critics and parents group at the time about violence in film, and I think the studio execs were embarrassed to be associated with such blatant exploitation fare. So, with this being the "end", they decided to go out with a bang and, in doing so, hoards of appreciative fans ended up with the Rolls Royce of the franchise. 

If you read my reviews of Part II and III, you know how much I despise the "previously on Friday the 13'th" recaps that kick off both of those films. The Final Chapter has one as well but, since this is supposed to be Jason's final film, the opening clip show feels less like padding and more like a "greatest hits" package. It does a really great job building Jason up as an unstoppable modern urban legend. 

The story proper picks up just moments after the conclusion of Part III. Police and ambulances swarm Higgins Haven, finding a plethora of dead bodies and one goalie-masked killer laid out in the barn. Instead of using a series of boring, static establishment shots, director Joseph Zito immediately gives the film a big-budget pedigree with a circling helicopter, an ambitious crane shot and then a single, travelling take that nicely documents the surrounding carnage. 

The early goings of the film are really well-paced and the tension ramps up quickly. Aside from a few jump-scares featuring Jason's filthy, clawed mitts falling unexpectedly into frame, Zito and screenwriter Barney Cohen show considerable restraint in getting our favorite killing machine up and about. They even go so far as to include a few blink-or-you'll-miss-it visual clues, such as the blanket shifting incrementally on top of the Jason's body and a cloud of breath as he's slid inside the refrigerated morgue.

The entire hospital sequence sees Zito and Cohen lavish considerable attention on otherwise disposable characters. As far as I can tell, Bruce Mahler's Axel is the first appearance of the "lackadaisical coroner" trope in film history. He's nonplussed, unprofessional and gross, at one point casually resting his half-eaten sandwich on Jason's dead body as he signs the release papers. The scene where he reacts to Jason's limb falling down on him and his snoggin' partner echoes the audience's sentiments perfectly. 

But alas, we can't have Jason in repose for the entire film, and pretty soon he gets the jump on poor, oblivious Axel. It's at this point when we realize that special effects maestro Tom Savini is back, delivering two memorable kills back-to-back. First off he does the ol' "saw n' twist" on Axel while he's perving out over an aerobics vid, which, side note, used to pass for erotica back in those heady pre-internet days. Then, before we get a chance to recover, Jason fillets poor Nurse Morgan in his own riff on the pinning board kill in Halloween.  

At this point we meet this movie's fresh crop of dead teens a-walkin'. Thankfully, they're all well-cast and none of them reach the annoyance level of Shelly in Part III. Right out of the gate, Crispin Glover's Jimmy is immediately sympathetic and likable, especially with his so-called bro Ted (played to cocky perfection by Lawrence Monoson), selling him down the river as a "dead fuck."  

Next up, us Friday fiends are treated to a little tidbit of lore-building. En route to their Air B&B, the kids drive by the gravestone of one Pamela Voorhees and, for the first time, Jason's beloved mum is finally given a first name. As cock-eyed as the continuity is for this series, I still appreciate any reference to Betsy Palmer's Mrs. Voorhees as the progenitor of all this madness. Seeing her tombstone, you can't help but wonder who requisitioned but, sadly, the series never followed up on this intriguing question.

As the kids motor towards a slightly portly, neo-hippy hitch-hiker, she reveals an initially-charming sign which reads "CANADA...AND LOVE." But, when they blow past her with Teddy screaming "Hey, honey...you got a sister?!?", she promptly swivels it around to show a decidedly-antithetical "FUCK YOU" scrawled on the flip-side. It's a rare moment of cynical levity, especially in light of what happens next. 

After the hitcher-hiker takes a load off to nosh on a 'nanner, Tom Savini goes to work again. We see Jason sneak up behind the hiker and jam a knife right through the back of her neck, which then emerges from her throat. It's a pretty darned convincing illusion that actually trumps the now-kinda-sketchy-looking Kevin Bacon "arrow through the neck" kill in Part I.

With Jason slowly and inexorably making his way back to his 'ol stompin' grounds at Camp Crystal Lake, we're then introduced to the Jarvis clan. This includes perpetually-sweaty mum Tracy (Joan Freeman), her older daughter Trish (Kimberly Beck) and younger son Tommy (Corey Feldman). Their collective family dynamic is such a refreshing change to see in one of these movies and the three actors inhabit their roles very well. Just the presence of a non-annoying and very likable kid in the story is more than enough to raise the stakes exponentially.

On the topic of Corey Feldman, a lot of people give him shit nowadays but, back then, he really raised the bar for child actors. He's earnest, natural and incredibly charismatic. His "reactions" to seeing skinny-dippers and horny teens making out are so genuine that you begin to doubt that the film-makers spared him the "horror" of witnessing such things. Clearly inspired by Tom Savini, Tommy's aptitude for special make-up effects is already so advanced, you're left wondering why the kid isn't working in Hollywood already.

When the Jarvismobile breaks down, backpacker Rob Dier (E. Erich Anderson) shows up, first providing a fake-out scare before affecting repairs on the car. In a nice nod to continuity, it's revealed that Rob is actually the brother of Sandra, who was skewered along with her boyfriend in Part II. Just don't think about it too much, 'cuz the events of that film, along with Part III and The Final Chapter, all technically occur within four days of each other! Whoopsie!

Despite being some rando that just wandered out of the woods, the Jarvis clan immediately adopt Rob, with Tommy oddly entreating him to "see something cool up in my room" while Trish seems immediately smitten with him. In time, Rob explains that he's on the hunt for his sister's killer, an interesting story element that's sadly scarcely explored. 

Segueing back to our group of long-in-the-tooth teens, we see that they're now partying it up across the road from the Jarvis residence. After we're treated to Crispin Glover's immortal spazz-out dance to the melodic strains of Lion's "Love Is a Lie", we're forced to sit through some pretty tired drama to get the kids to split up. When Samantha (Judie Aronson) sees her boyfriend Paul (Alan Hayes) flirting with horny twin Tina (Camilla More), she does what any normal women would do: she goes skinny-dipping in a cold New Jersey lake in the dead of night to hang out alone on an inflatable raft.

Bless Judie Aronson, what a trooper. Even though most of her lines are delivered with a pronounced "deer-in-the-headlights" quality, she deserves ample praise for suffering for what we horror fans legitimately consider to be art. By all accounts, it was absolutely freezing when they shot this sequence and the poor girl ended up with hypothermia. Stuntman Ted White, who played Jason, was so incensed by director Joe Zito's treatment of Aronson that they nearly came to blows over it. In fact, their on-set relationship was so contentious that White asked for his name to be struck from the film's credits.

It might not be much consolation to Aronson, but the scene itself is one of the most iconic in slasher cinema history. Jason pops out of the water, grabs her shoulder and then skewers her from down below with a knife in a shocking and squirm-inducing moment. Minus Aronson's inadvertently goofy facial expression, it's one of the most harrowing and intense kills of the entire series. Mere moments later, Tom Savini piles on the horror by having Jason stab n' launch Paulie right in the crotch with a spear gun. Yikes!        

Side note, I know the film was shot in California, specifically around Topanga Canyon, but at least the producers tried to make it look like it was set in New Jersey. Whereas the environs of Part III were sun-baked and sunny and "Crystal Lake" was more of a duck pond, the trees in this film look temperate and the water looks legit cold and sludgy. Also, bonus points for drowning the finale with a massive downpour, which mirrors the miserable endgame conditions of both Part I and II and really ramps up the atmosphere.   

What follows is an unrelenting tsunami of kills that range from subtle to creative to downright vicious. As if to lull us into thinking that the film-makers are going soft, chaste twin Terri (Carey More) is shishkebab-ed in stylish shadow and mom Tracy is just shown reacting to some imminent threat. I think director Joe Zito just wanted to show a bit of restrain so that, when the shit really hits the fan, it'll be extra-shocking.

And we don't have have long to wait for the jolts, and the bodies, really start to pile up. After Ted's pushy, obnoxious attitude unsurprisingly fails him, Jimmy gets the girl with his understated charms. Unfortunately, he commits the cardinal sin of bragging about this conquest and he immediately gets (cork) screwed and then takes a cleaver to the mush. A few beats later, Jimmy's "dance partner", Tina, is unceremoniously yanked through the window and hurled down onto a parked car. Her impact is palpable and you can't help but wince when she caroms off that roof, blowing out the windows before crashing to the ground.

Of all the characters, only Lawrence Monoson's "Teddy Bear" gets on my nerves, but he's just a minor blip when compared to past irritants. As soon as he tries to coerce Terri into kissing him and then exclaims "What a pig!" while watching a nude woman dance in a vintage stag movie, the dude immediately goes to the top of my shit list. Ergo, I'm not particularly broken up when he inevitably gets his gourd perforated. This also gives Zito and Cohen a chance to a sly commentary about violence in film as his blood runs down the pristine white projector screen.     

We then get to spend a few fleeting moments with potential paramours Sara (Barbara Howard) and Doug (Peter Barton), the latter of which signed onto the film only because his starring television vehicle, The Powers of Matthew Star, had just been cancelled. Seeing Jason mash Barton's impossibly-pretty face into the shower wall is a particularly grisly moment. And even though Barbara Howard's performance makes her sound like she was already struck in the head with a two-by-four, she's still comes across as earnest and sweet and it comes as a genuine shock when Jason suddenly pops up to axe her a question. 

Moments later, we get to see the big "showdown" we've all been anticipating, which pretty much boils down to Rob back-tracking down to the basement for some stupid reason and then getting hoe-ed to death. His warning screams of "HE'S KILLING ME!" to Trish might seem scoff-worthy to some but Joseph Zito wanted to include the line after reading a newspaper article about a man being attacked on the streets of New York City and screaming: "Please stop hurting me, please stop killing me!" So disturbed was he by the concept of a victim trying to reason with his crazed assailant, that he decided to include a similarly-disturbing sentiment, resulting in a scene more memorable and harrowing than your average slasher slaying.

As you watch the film's climax, it's pretty evident that Zito and Cohen actually care about the Friday continuity and tropes. For example, Jason still delights in hurling dead bodies through picture windows, shot-putting poor Rob into the living room at one point. His penchant for leaving his kills strewn around the house to ramp up the terror level is also on point. In an amusing twist, this actually comes back to bite Jason in the ass when he's forced to rip poor Crispin Glover's body down from out of the doorway like some cheap Halloween decoration while pursuing Trish.     

At this point, we get our first good look at veteran stuntman Ted White's take on Jason and it's well worth the wait. Jason is an absolute goon in this movie, effortlessly crashing through doors like some murderous Kool-Aid man. Still human at this stage, the dude has a relentless lumbering run, like the slasher equivalent of the killer truck in Steven Spielberg's Duel. The dude's also distressingly-good at hurling deadly weapons, scaring the crap out of Trish, as well as the audience, with several close calls.

The goalie mask is another example of the film-maker's attention to detail, serving up silent testimony to all of the cumulative damage he's sustained during this film and the two previous entries. Jason's misshaped head and drooping eye hint at a future unmasking that most sane people would wisely dread, but has every die-hard horror fiend rubbing their hands together in anticipation. 

As for his main opponent, I think Kimberly Beck is one of the best final girls in Friday's storied history. The character takes an absolute beating during the course of the film, even desperately launching herself out of a two-story window at one point. But what makes Trish so amazing is that she gives even better than she gets, smoking her assailant repeatedly in the head with a hammer and then braining him in the melon with a computer monitor. The scene where she virtually splits Jason's hand down the middle with a machete gives Tom Savini another chance shine, and the effect he produces is incredibly gnarly.

I've already gone way too far into this review before talking about the music, so let me rectify that right now. From the twinkling, funereal tones of the film's first few establishing shots, to the driving strings and chill-inducing stings of the final battle with Jason, the Harry Manfredini's orchestral score is, arguably, one of the best in all of horror history. Yes, certain elements are highly-evocative of Bernard Hermann's Psycho score, but his arrangements are still wildly original and ambitious and really serve to elevate the intense action and put the viewer's nerves on edge. 

There's no better example of this than in the film's final moments, when Tommy suddenly appears in his L'il Jason cosplay, confusing the murderogre long enough for Trish to remove his mask. This is a great scene since it hearkens back to Ginny's fake-out in Part II and it also gives Tom Savini an opportunity to show us an adult Jason that's a direct evolution of his memorable appearance as a boy in Part I. With his twisted maw, drooping eye and skewed ear, this makeup is the best unmasked Jason in the entire series, save maybe Parts VI and VII.   

From thereon in, it's the Corey Feldman show. His performance brings Tommy's arc full circle from a wide-eyed kid interested in monster effects to an actual homicidal monster. Between him silhouetted in the door of Trish's recovery room and the dead look in his eyes when she hugs him, the vaguely-meta suggestion being communicated really lingers with the audience. 

Clearly the film-makers are suggesting that the l'il tyke will take up Jason's murderous mantle and a very large part of me really wishes that they' d followed up on this whole "Dark Tommy" story line. Sure, they kinda flirted with the idea a little bit in Part V, but it's terribly mishandled and movie itself is * spoiler alert * a giant piece of shit. Plus, if they'd leaned into that particular story line, we might not have gotten the glorious heights of Part VI...but I'm getting ahead of myself here.  

So, even though Friday the 13'th: The Final Chapter doesn't break radically from the tried-n'-true formula, it's a natural "conclusion" to the series with a presentation made razor-sharp by a legitimately-talented director, a decent script and a winning cast of characters. As such, fans flocked to it in droves, so much so that even those snobby Paramount execs had to admit that this cash cow still had the ability to fuel their raging cocaine habits.

I give The "Final" Chapter three stars outta five with a massive tilt up toward the window that Trish just flew out of!

Movie and Graphic Novel Review: "V for Vendetta"

 

The downside of being alive for five decades is that it's really easy to notice when certain once-implacable standards have been lowered beyond imagination. Gone are the days when someone's political career could be threatened by a weird yell or if you misspelled "potato." But we now live in an era when half of the American population can sleep soundly after voting for the sort of autocrat that would give Alan Moore waking nightmares.

Four years before Moore revolutionized comic books with Watchmen, he wrote V for Vendetta as a direct challenge to the leadership of Margaret Thatcher. Trends of crony capitalism, environmental disdain, overt nationalism and rampant, widespread surveillance, topped off with a generous dollop of racism, homophobia and xenophobia, had Moore legitimately concerned that the U.K. was tipping into despotism. 

Although V for Vendetta was a critical and commercial hit for DC's adult-themed Vertigo line, it didn't get a movie adaptation until 2006, five years after 9/11. Given the prevailing political climate in the U.S. at the time, Moore's cautionary tale was suddenly looking pretty friggin' relevant again. As a result, the Wachowskis, looking for something to do after The Matrix trilogy ended with a resounding thud, wrote and produced a screen version with director James McTeigue at the helm. 

Say what you want about the final result, but even the most hardened critic has to admit that their collective vision is distressingly relevant when viewed by contemporary audiences. 

The year is 2027. After the U.S. has fallen into a state of civil war (!) and a pandemic (!!) has devastated Europe, the fascist Norsefire Party now holds sway over England, with the demagogic Adam Sutler (John Hurt) installed as High Chancellor. We're introduced to Evey Hammond (Natalie Portman), a young employee at the state-run television network, as she gets accosted by a gang of "Fingermen" secret police. Just in the nick of time, she's rescued by the titular "V" (Hugo Weaving), a vigilante, political anarchist, alliteration junkie and Guy Fawkes cosplayer.

To reveal more about the plot would be a disservice, so I'll just say that the story mainly concerns itself with slowly revealing V's elaborate plan to topple Sutler's regime and how Evey fits into all of it. We also cut back and forth to a pair of Scotland Yard Inspectors, Finch (Stephen Rea) and Stone (Rupert Graves), as they try and puzzle out V's real identity and snare him. In doing so, they discover how the terrorist's origins are linked to the dark conspiracy which sent the country hurtling towards authoritarianism. 

Famously, Alan Moore has disowned any cinematic adaptation of his graphic novels, claiming that his stories are exclusively designed for the medium of comics, any motivation to adapt them into movies is strictly mercenary and the end results will always be disappointment. Admittedly, in the case of something like The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, he's pretty much spot-on, but I'd argue that Snyder's adaptation of Watchmen is reasonably good and V for Vendetta is even better.    

I admire Alan Moore's stalwart integrity, which remains resolute, even when a massive financial carrot is dangled in front of him. Having said that, when something as important as V for Vendetta is clanging around in your brain, it makes sense to me, as a writer, to try and disseminate these messages as prolifically as possible. Sure, the results might not be as good as the original source material, but it's not as if film adaptation is the equivalent of Wrath of Khan's Genesis device and will destroy the original graphic novel "in favor of its new matrix."

Moore would likely argue to the contrary, and, admittedly, there's ample evidence to support his stance. After all, I'm sure there are plenty of people who've seen the film and aren't even aware that it's based on a graphic novel. The film makes a myriad of changes, some subtle, some major, and I'm sure that Mr. Moore is salty about every single one. In a perfect world, the original writer should be given complete oversight on these interpretations but, given DC Comic's draconian take on creator's ownership rights, I wouldn't be quick to play ball with them either.    

Here are some of the changes between the original graphic novel and the film adaptation:

• When we first meet Evey in the graphic novel, she's a 16-year-old munitions worker who desperately turns to prostitution for financial survival. She's also more immediately helpful to V, voluntarily working with him to ensnare the creepy Bishop Lilliman. In the film, she's a lot older and more self-possessed, but she gets cornered by the Fingermen, not out of desperation, but simply because she's looking to visit Gordon after curfew. I think? I honestly don't know since it's not exactly made clear. She also volunteers to help V catch the Bishop, not because he's a creepy pedophile scumbag, but to create an opportunity for her to escape. In the end, I think novel Evey's personal journey is a lot more sympathetic, harrowing, and engaging.  
• As the "Voice of Fate" in the original novel, Lewis Prothero is strictly a radio voice for the "Fate" computer, dispensing audio comfort food to keep listeners mired in the status quo. In the film, actor Roger Allam portrays the "Voice of London", a hyper-charged Fox News-style television pundit. Although I like the "disembodied voice of Fate" idea, as a screenwriter, I don't know if I could  resist updating this for parody purposes.
• With changes like the latter, the film has clearly drifted away from the book's original "anarchy versus fascism" approach and it's now more of a liberal treatise against Objectivism and Bush-era Neo-Conservatism. And, honestly, considering the current day threat that this has grown into, it's hard to dismiss this warning outright.
• Racism was pretty prevalent in the U.K. back when Moore first wrote V for Vendetta but, as the Black Lives Matter movement will attest, it's just as insidious and widespread as it's ever been, maybe even more so. Sadly, all that remains of Moore's original exploration of this are a few clips of the fictional Storm Saxon show playing in the background and a couple of post 9/11 shots thrown at Muslims.   
• In the original novel, a limited nuclear skirmish results in the dire conditions which give rise to the Norsefire party. Moore now admits that the concept of  a limited nuclear exchange being survivable is pretty much ludicrous, so the film's lab-engineered virus is a helluva lot more realistic, not to mention oddly prescient. The funny thing is, neither the book nor the film got it right since it's pretty clear that the average idiot doesn't need an over-arching, fear-based reason to vote for a sociopathic despot. They can do it for much more frivolous, odious,ignorant and / or selfish reasons.     
• Sutler uses the virus as a "Reichstag fire"-style event to seize power but, in the novel, it's a much more insidious, subtle, creeping process. Which, let's face it, is more in line with the modern fascist play book.
• John Hurt does his usual great job as Sutler (Susan in the novel), but he's also playing a Mussolini / Hitler-esque caricature here. In the novel, the Norsefire party leader is quite cold, calculating and sedate. In fact, his complete and utter apathy towards his fellow human beings  leads him into a really odd obsession with the omniscient "Fate" computer; a weakness that V learns to exploit.  
• The original novel dedicates a significant amount of time exploring the lives of prominent party members and their partners. In other words, they're not just depicted as simplified thugs like in the film, they're presented with a lot more subtlety and nuance. They've largely convinced themselves that what they're doing is right and normal and they treat their roles like it's any other job. This is definitely more in-step with what most cogs in fascist wheels end up doing in order to assuage their conscience. 
• The explanation of how V procured the chemicals to escape the internment camp is omitted from the movie, making for a pretty glaring logical plot hole. Later V somehow manages to mail a metric crap-ton of Guy Fawkes masks out to thousands of London residents. Um, okay.  
• A subplot where Evie is abandoned by V and she shacks up with a random guy named Gordon might do well to explore her daddy issues, but it isn't a huge loss from the screenplay. The film's Gordon, played by Stephen Fry, is Evey's trusted T.V. station colleague who later confides his personal secrets to her. 
• V is a lot more "wild card" in the book, reminding Evie that the chaos resulting from his actions isn't "anarchy" and that anarchy actually means "without leaders, not without order." One big feather in the film's cap is getting Hugo Weaving to play V. He communicates a staggering level of emotion and verbiage while never once showing his face. Truly impressive.  
• Since V is a much more ruthless and morally ambiguous figure in the novel, Finch doesn't just abandon his life's loyalties at the end of the story. 

Technically, the film is quite accomplished, with first-time director James McTeigue offering up some great visuals and some decent set pieces. As a hold-over from The Matrix-style "bullet time", some of the action sequences are in slo-mo, a technique which was already over-used, even back then. McTeigue and editor Martin Walsh keep things moving along at a brisk pace, but, as the script's perspectives and 11'th hour machinations become increasingly complicated, the cutting seems to get more muddied and whiplash.

The set design and costumes are all top-notch, though at times certain environs get over-lit and photographed like a cheap sitcom. Dario Marianelli's soundtrack is functional but devoid of anything memorable, a fact made even more glaringly obvious with the inclusion of Tchaikovsky's "1812 Overture" and a few notable contemporary cover songs by Julie London and Cat Power.

But, when it comes right down to it, the original graphic novel wins the duke because Moore's singular vision trumps (no pun intended) the committee that made the film version. Whenever the film's script strays from the graphic novel, I get shades of David Benioff and D.B. Weiss desperately trying to write something Game of Thrones-y after running out of  George R.R. Martin's original material. The dialogue is particularly glaring; I swear the Wachowskis drunkenly peppered the word  "bollocks" into the script just to make the characters sound more "British."  

It's not just the dialogue that's lunk-headed. In a particularly ham-fisted sequence, Gordon presents a broad, farcical Benny Hill-style open parody of Sutler and then blithely dismisses the possibility of any repercussions. His stance is so naive that you begin to suspect that the script made him do it just so  Evey gets captured. As for Natalie Portman, she's a tad wooden throughout and her accent isn't 100% convincing to me, but she does shine during the imprisonment / rebirth scene. 

After that pivotal moment, the plot gets increasingly convoluted, with V posing as an informant named Rookwood. This ruse is so blatantly obvious that I almost laughed out loud when Finch freaks out later when he realizes that he fell for it. If you think about it for just a second, you quickly realize that all of this Rookwood stuff exists just to explain the conspiracy, which didn't even exist in the novel. Speaking of, Moore's original denouement, which has Evie adopting a logical evolution, is a helluva lot more satisfying than the film's conclusion.   

Yes, I think the graphic novel is superior, but I don't want to make it sound as if it's perfect, 'cuz it ain't. It's one of Moore's earliest writing jobs, and it betrays some pretty puerile, sophomoric and "edge-lordy" material. Beyond the aforementioned "nuclear winter" gaff, I find the characterization of Conrad Heyer's bitchy wife Helen to be laughably one-dimensional. Heyer is depicted as the sort of raging, power-hungry harpy that's more at home in an EC horror comic. 

Then there's Rosemary Almond's husband Derek, who is shown to be a mentally and physically abusive piece of shit. After he's killed by V, Rosemary inexplicably pines over him. In fact, her despair grows so deep and her financial woes so dire, that she ends up publicly humiliating herself in some sort of perverse public vaudeville act. I don't buy it at all and it just seems to be planted there as a lazy way to "crush the head of the snake" without V's involvement.    

As a writer myself, I really bristle at the suggestion that this story should be dust-binned merely  because V's actions and methods are ethically and politically shaky. Frankly, I find that aspect of the character to be legitimately fascinating and I relish any opportunity to ponder the myriad of shades on display here. Increasingly so, people seem to want their heroes, even antiheroes, to be perfect paragons of behavior so that they can get behind them unquestionably. I think V is characterized with an appropriate level of complexity, leaving room to debate the eternal question of whether the means justify the end. Like Evey, there are times when my hatred for V is palpable while I'm reading V for Vendetta. There are also times when I adore him...or her.

Regardless of what form you experience this story, I think there's no better time than the present to seek it out, digest it and reflect on how much life is currently imitating art.

The graphic novel:

 Tilt: up

The movie:

 

      Tilt: up.

Movie Review: "Halloween" (1978)

 

How have I managed to avoid talking about John Carpenter’s Halloween all this time? Huh, weird. Oh, well, no better time than the present! 

What follows is a deep-dive exploration of this over-forty-year-old-movie, so copious spoilers abound. If you haven’t seen it yet, then go watch it first and then come back here. I’ll be waiting...muh-HA, HA, HA, HAAAA!!!

Ahem, sorry. Honestly I don’t know if I can say anything particularly original about this classic horror movie, except that it’s by no means a sacred cow. Yes, it’s an iconic seasonal thriller, which exhibits a surprising amount of restraint and suspense, but it’s certainly not a perfect film. In fact, Carpenter and company make some downright bizarre choices during its peppy 91-minute runtime.

The story is very simple; a decidedly appropriate choice when forging a modern addition to the “bogeyman” urban legend, typified by stories like “The Hook” or the “Backseat Killer." Out of the blue, six-year-old Michael Myers (aka “The Shape”) murders his sister on Halloween night. Then, 15 years later, he escapes from the booby-hatch, makes his way back home to Haddonfield, Illinois,  encounters Laurie Strode (Jamie Lee Curtis) and inexplicably becomes obsessed with killing her and her friends. Meanwhile, Dr. Sam Loomis, played by Donald Pleasance, tries to warn local authorities that “death has come to your little town.”       

Right from its opening credits, Halloween grabs your attention and doesn’t let go. Between the iconic John Carpenter score, the classic orange font and the slow zoom towards the crudely-carved pumpkin, the movie sets up the perfect tone right from the jump. This is carried into the prologue, which sees a crowd of exuberant, costumed trick-or-treaters reciting the following traditional poem:

Black cats and goblins and broomsticks and ghosts,

Covens of witches with all of their hosts.

You may think they scare me, you're probably right.

Black cats and goblins, on Halloween night.

Trick or treat!

Needless to say, Carpenter and co-writer Debra Hill crammed so much atmospheric, creepy, seasonal tropes into their movie, it virtually guaranteed that Halloween would become the de facto flick that gets played ad nauseum this time every year.

What follows is another visually-stunning moment, especially for a movie made for under $400 K. Using the newly-developed Panaglide steadicam, Carpenter forces us into the perspective of the pint -sized killer as he sneaks through the house, dons a mask and stabs his older sister Judith to death with a butcher knife. It’s a truly chilling scene with squirm-inducing implications.

This introduces the first of many oddities. While l’il Michael is doing his best Norman Bates impersonation, our point of view suddenly moves away from Judith and over to the knife as it rises and falls out of frame several times. At first I thought 'Man, that is so dumb, if you were trying to kill someone with a knife, um, in theory, you’d be a fool to take your eyes off the intended victim for fear they'd try and escape.' But then a really chilling thought suddenly hit me: what if this kid is really enjoying the sight of the knife in his hand as he murders his poor sister in cold blood? In a precursor to a famous future scene, he’s already admiring his handiwork!

The prologue ends with a dazed Michael, dressed in his creepy clown outfit, standing on the front lawn holding the bloody knife. His parents rip the mask off of his face and they just stand there and stare at him as a crane shot slowly pulls away. This simple scene raises about a million questions in the eternal debate of "nature versus "nurture" and, contrary to what Rob Zombie may think, it's all of the origin story we really need to establish “The Shape.”

We then flash forward from 1963 to October 30’th, 1978 and meet Dr. Sam Loomis, played to absolute perfection by a twitchy, irritated and clearly-haunted Donald Pleasance. Loomis and his driver, Nurse Marion Chambers (Nancy Stephens), are en route to Smith’s Grove Sanitarium to oversee the transfer the now-adult Michael to another institution. Even though Loomis is supposed to be Michael’s shrink, talks openly about keeping his patient doped up to the gills, refers to him as “it” and then declares that “the evil is gone” after he escapes. Delivered by a lesser actor, these lines would come off as melodramatic and cheesy, but, in Pleasance’s capable hands, we’re instantly convinced that Michael Myers is nothing short of evil incarnate.                 

During all of this, the film's low-fi aesthetics help rather than hinder. Some of these shots look like they were captured by Carpenter himself while he was sitting in the backseat of the car, creating a nice sensation of claustrophobia. When the vehicle pulls up to the sanitarium and we see several spectral-looking escaped mental patients drifting around in the distance through the rain-soaked windshield, the effect is super-eerie and sets a really discordant mood.

The subsequent scene where Michael steals their car is kind of lame, though. Loomis and Chambers are so easily overcome they might just as well have stepped out, left the keys in the ignition, let Mikey take the wheel, said “watch your elbow” and then gently closed the door for him. It doesn't help that the passenger side “window” that Michael shatters looks like a cheap piece of plastic and we then see a scrawny looking guy dressed in a hospital gown jacking up the car GTA-style. Sorry, but the concept of a mental patient who’s been locked away for 15 years expertly navigating a car is so patently ridiculous that Carpenter felt the need to include a ham-fisted throw-away excuse from Loomis later on in the movie.

We then switch scenes to Haddonfield on Halloween day. Just like in Friday the 13’th: Part III, California doubles for an easterly locale, but thanks to the excellent cinematography of the masterful Dean Cundy, everything looks appropriately dreary and washed-out here. The producers even went so far as to import bags of dead leaves to fling around the locations to give them the illusion of a midwestern fall. It’s a nice distraction from the fact that the weather and wet ground continuity here is pretty atrocious. 

We now meet Laurie Strode, earnestly portrayed by the delightful Jamie Lee Curtis. Even though she was actually 19 at time, her grandmotherly attire and mature countenance really strain her believably as a high schooler, perhaps even more so than “Michael Andretti’s” driving skills. This was Jamie Lee’s first role and, although her performance does oscillate between over-expressive, self-conscious, comatose and / or shrill, she’s boundlessly charming and does a marvelous job overall. As a classic “final girl”,  you like her, you care what happens to her and, frankly, that’s all that matters.

Laurie and her babysitting cash cow Tommy Doyle (Brian Andrews) pass by the old Myers house, abandoned since that fateful night. Carpenter does a masterful job filling parts of the frame with “The Shape” as he peers out the window at them. Since Halloween II got shit-canned and is no longer part of canon, I can’t help but wonder if Michael’s sole motivation to kill Laurie is just because she had the temerity to step on his porch?   

Whatever the reason, Michael starts popping up everywhere like a Jehovah’s Witness. He’s in Laurie’s back yard, skulks behind the bushes, scares the fertilizer out of some elementary school kids and cruises around town like he’s gotten hydraulics installed in his low-rider. The scene where he stares at Laurie while she’s in class listening to a lecture about fate is particularly effective. Since a slew of folks technically played “The Shape”, it’s tough to credit one specific person, but, by all accounts,  Nick Castle deserves a lot of the credit for establishing the iconic slasher’s walk, body language and presence.     

Around this time we also meet Laurie’s nominal gal pals. Lynda is played by P.J. Soles, who, at age 27, really strained the definition of “high schooler.” Lynda is written to be gratingly annoying, so it’s quite the testimony to P.J’s charm that I still kinda like her. Her penchant for saying “totally” every four to five seconds quickly gets old, however, and I can’t help but wonder if Carpenter and Debra Hill thought this is what teenagers sounded like back in 1977.

Then there’s Nancy Kyes as the sardonic, deadpan Annie Bracket, who, at age 28, really puts the "senior" in "high school senior." Look, I know what Kyes was going for here, but you can’t convince me that this is a good performance. Her sarcasm comes off as stilted and between her expressionless eyes (the blackest eyes?) and her odd delivery, I always feel as if she’s reading her lines off of a cue card. Oh well, at least the three female leads are visibly and audibly distinct from one another, which is more than I can say for most modern horror films. 

Around this same time, not co-incidentally, you might start to notice just how idiotic some of the dialogue is. Witness these l’il chestnuts:  

Lynda: The only reason she babysits is to have a place to... 

Laurie: Oh, shit!

Lynda: (indignant) I have a place for that.

***

Annie: I hate a guy with a car and no sense of humor.

***

Annie: Now you hear obscene chewing. You're losing it, Laurie.

***

Laurie: All right, Annie. First I get your famous chewing, now I get your famous squealing?

Yeeesh.

But for every stupid scene, there’s cinema gold, which normally involves Dr. Loomis in some way, shape (heh, heh) or form. I love the wonderful graveyard scene where the groundskeeper, Taylor, blabbers away at an increasingly-annoyed Loomis:

Taylor: Hey, you know, every town has something like this happen. I remember over in Russellville. Old Charly Bowles. About fifteen years ago. One night he finished dinner and he excused himself from the table and he went out to the garage...he got himself a hack saw and then he went back into the house and he kissed his wife and his two children goodbye and then he proceeded...

Loomis: (irritated) Where are we?

The scene’s big reveal of Judith’s missing headstone works as a simple, macabre little set-up that really pays off in spades later on.

Anyhoo, despite all of the creepy Michael sightings, Laurie still packs up her knitting needles and oversized pumpkin and heads out to meet up with Annie. NOTE: sharp-eyed viewers will notice the work “EVIL” spray-painted on a wall at the 28 minute mark as Laurie walks by. After Annie picks up her bahd, the two drive around for a bit, share a joint and talk about boys. Then, when they spy Laurie’s dad Sherriff Leigh in the distance, they inexplicably drive right towards him and voluntarily pull over, just so we can get an expository scene to explain how Michael got all of his accesories.

Carpenter finally starts cooking with gas as the pair drive towards their babysitting gig. But first we have to excuse the fact that neither Laurie nor Annie notice that they’re being blatantly tailgated by the same weirdo in a white Bill Shatner mask driving the same asylum-tagged station wagon from earlier. Nice use of “Don’t Fear the Reaper”, though.

By shooting on location in this real, relatively-boujee neighborhood and firmly establishing the film's "geography", Carpenter keeps building a realistic mise-en-scène. This,in turn, does wonders for audience immersion. Around this time, Carpenter’s soundtrack also starts to incorporate some really eerie musical stings, sustained notes and plodding, dirge-y piano, making it one of the most effective scores in horror film history.         

We then cut back to the Myers abode, where we learn that, unlike Jason Voorhees, Michael apparently has no qualms about killing and / or chowing down on house pets. This is also a warm up for what "The Shape "does to poor Lester the German Shepherd later on.  As if all of this verboten, unsanctioned animal murder isn’t bad enough, Donald Pleasance single-handedly creeps us out with this iconic speech to the skeptical Sheriff Brackett:

“I met him fifteen years ago. I was told there was nothing left. No reason, no conscience, no understanding, in even the most rudimentary sense, of life or death, of good or evil, right or wrong. I met this six year-old child with his blank, pale, emotionless face, and the blackest eyes, the Devil's eyes. I spent eight years trying to reach him and then another seven trying to keep him locked up, because I realized that what was living behind that boy's eyes was purely and simply...evil.”

Pretty chill-inducing, but this gives way to a head-scratching moment when Loomis unwisely pish-toshes Brackett’s solid plan to go to the media and alert folks that a homicidal maniac is in their midst. In retrospect, this is a pretty egregious error, especially in light of who the first victim turns out to be. Loomis also doggedly clings to the idea that Michael is going to return to his family home, which he never does. Nice going, Sherlock.

Oh, well, at least this sets up a delightfully-oddball scene later on where Donald Pleasance scares the shit out of aspiring bully Lonnie Elam by doing a weird Idris Elba impersonation and then adopting the sort of “I’m amused by my own fart” facial expression that I’ve only ever seen Brent Spiner do a handful of times while playing Data on Star Trek.  

Mere moments after Loomis gives his terrible advice, the bodies start dropping. If you're anything like me, there comes a point where you'e practically begging for Annie to die, if only to stop Nancy Kyes from warbling on incessantly about Paul. Nevertheless, her demise is well set up and executed, no pun intended. As for Bob’s death, it’s one of the greatest slasher kills of all-time. Between the superhuman strength exhibited, the “butterfly board” end result and Michael tilting his head back and forth to admire his handiwork, this scene instantly became the grist for endless speculative playground conversations in the late 70’s and early 80’s.

Before we go any further, I just wanted to make a quick observation about the movie’s tremendous sense of mood. By using liberal clips from classic movies like The Thing from Another World, Carpenter is clearly wearing his influences on his sleeve. In fact, the scene where Tommy gets a glimpse of Michael carrying Annie’s body is a direct homage to Invaders from Mars. That unnerving, theramin-esque music from Forbidden Planet playing in the background just sells it to the hilt. Given all of the trick-or-treaters, pumpkin carving and horror movie marathons on T.V., you couldn’t make a more Halloween-y movie on your Halloween-iest day with an electrified Halloweenification device.            

Alright, back to the mayhem. As far as I’m concerned, Lynda and Bob deserve to be killed, not because they had sex, but because they boned in some strangers bed. I mean, rude, am I right? I’m almost 99.9% sure they had absolutely zero intention of washing those sheets before they left. Slightly less scary than that thought is Michael dressing up like a spoopy ghost and donning Bob’s “Aunt Selma” glasses. I really like Michael’s penchant for disguise here and I kinda wish he’d explored this budding hobby a bit more in future entries, but I guess the producers of the series wanted him to exclusively use the ol’ “hammer versus nail” approach.  

Speaking of Michael, we finally start seeing some stingy glimpses of him, accompanied by that labored “I’m-slowly-smothering-to-death-underneath-this-cheap-Halloween-mask” breathing sound that everybody recognizes. The mask itself, a deformed Don Post Captain Kirk head sculpt, painted bone-white with the eyebrows removed and the hair all fucked up, is genuinely unsettling. I don’t know if future changes were made for legal reasons, but every subsequent mask that appeared in the series was a pale imitation of the first.

What follows is an absolute master class in suspense. When Laurie discovers Michael’s “murder tableau” at the Wallace house, you can almost hear the last puzzle piece of the slasher genre fall into place. The whole set up is so weird and disjointed that it legit feels like the product of a diseased mind. Then, at the 1:16 mark, Dean Cundy’s brilliant cinematography comes through again, with "The Shape" suddenly materializing from out of the darkness. It is, without a doubt, one of be the most iconic shots in horror film history.  

Jamie Lee Curtis absolutely shines in the harrowing finale, particularly when she’s banging on the neighbor's door and begging for help. When the porch lights wink out, it’s not only a heart-rending moment, it's also a pretty damning commentary on trend of modern objectivism. Granted, she does lose the audience a little bit when she voluntarily discards Michael’s trademark butcher knife instead of using it to protect herself. Granted, the whole “false ending” cliche was actually established here, but when she chucks the weapon away for the second time at the 1:24 mark, theater-goers back in 1978 must have collectively screamed “WHAT THE FUCK YOU DOIN', BISH?!?” so loud that the entire country heard it.

We then get our last supremely-stupid script convenience as Loomis realizes that it might be a good idea to look at something other than the Myers house and, lo and behold, he finally notices the abandoned Smith’s Grove Sanitarium Scramble Wagon™ parked ten feet away. He then lopes to the rescue as Laurie’s two babysitting charges run screaming out of the house.   

This leads us to another truly unsettling moment as "The Shape" sits up and slowly turns his head, Nosferatu-style, in the background behind a traumatized Laurie. Mikey fails another point-blank stabbing attempt, his mask gets wrestled off (for no good reason) and then Loomis appears, emptying the contents of his service revolver into him. Sadly, this intense scene is undermined by the sort of pantomimed jig that only a toddler would do if you aimed a finger gun at them, which is then followed by the most cliche "body hits the ground" sound effect in cinema history. 

But then the movie ends perfectly. Loomis looks over the balcony to confirm what he already knows: that Michael has vanished into the night and the resulting 'Well, d’uh’ reaction from Pleasance is completely priceless. Carpenter then finishes up with a montage of establishing shots, overdubbed with Michael’s omnipresent breathing. The connotation is effectively and disturbingly communicated: evil is everywhere...and it never dies.    

Halloween was by no means the first slasher movie, that particular distinction likely belongs to either Bob Clark’s Black Christmas or Tobe Hooper’s The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. But Carpenter was the first film-maker to codify everything so successfully that this budding sub-genre dominated the world of horror for almost a decade.  

Sure, the movie is by no means perfect, but it’s classy, restrained, stylish, atmospheric, tense, genuinely suspenseful and deserves to be ritually revisited around this time every single year.

Tilt: up.

Movie Review: "Friday the 13'th: Part III"

Although Jason Voorhees finally achieved Pokemon-style middle evolution in this entry, Friday the 13'th: Part III suffers from a draggy first half, some really annoying and unlikable characters and a lot of goofy and distracting visual conceits that resulted from the whole "3-D" gimmick. Mercifully it picks up considerably towards the end, giving fans some promise that the best may be yet to come.

To no-one's surprise, the plot is only a slight variation of what's come before. Traumatized Chris Higgins (Dana Kimmell) decides to confront her demons by visiting her family's isolated cabin close to Crystal Lake, a place where she was attacked by a stranger a few years earlier. Unfortunately, she also brings along a pack of triggering "friends", including horny couple Debbie (Tracy Savage) and Andy (Jeffry Rogers), tag-along Vera (Catherine Parks), annoying prankster Shelly (Larry Zerner) and stoners Chuck (David Katims) and Chili (Rachel Howard). 

As Chris inexplicably tries to re-connect with her pushy ex-flame Rick (Paul Kratka), the group runs afoul of a local biker gang (???) who siphon gas out of their van and case out the nearby barn for what I can only assume are flip-able antiques. Unbeknownst to everyone, Jason Voorhees has not only survived his confrontation with Ginny in Part II, he's also working on some personal makeover goals and a myriad of creative ways to murder every single living thing within a hundred mile radius.

Just like in the previous installment, viewers have to sit through a tiresome recap of the previous film. On one hand, I kind of admire this superficial adherence to continuity. Unfortunately, the whole thing drags on waaaaay too long, especially if you're watching these movies back-to-back. Oh well, at least we aren't subjected to some idiotic scene where Jason follows Ginny back to her flat in downtown Stroudsburg, waits for her to retrieve a comforting pint of Häagen-Dazs and then stabs her in the head with a dry-erase marker.

Oh, before I go any further, I think it should be noted that everything that happens in this film occurs on Saturday the 14'th and Sunday the 15'th. #truthinadvertising #themoreyouknow 

Anyhoo, although we're spared the sort of epic level idiocy that kicked off Part II, we get something here that's almost as bad. Keen on updating his look from hillbilly couture to business slayable, Jason visits a nearby corner store presided over by the gross, schlubby Harold (Steve Susskind) and his gratingly-annoying shrew of a wife, Edna (Cheri Maugans). IMHO, Jason can't murder these two assholes fast enough.

About around this time you begin to realize that returning director Steve Miner isn't just content to create a normal field of depth within the frame to take advantage of the 3-D process like a normal director of movie-type things. Nope, he's also gonna stick a bunch of random shit into the camera lens like Count Floyd's Monster Chiller Horror Theater. By the time this flick is over, the audience has practically fellated the following objects:

1. A clothesline pole.
2. A T.V. antenna.
3. A rubber snake on a wire.
4. A rat.
5. A bat. Um, of the baseball variety.
6. A joint.
7. An eyeball.
8. A haybale.
9. A wallet. 
10. A chain-covered fist.
11. A yo-yo.
12. A pitchfork.
13. Flying popcorn kernels. 
14. Jason's grasping mitts.
15. An axe handle.

Hey, kids, you too can play along at home! What gratuitously-lame visual 3-D stunts did I miss? List 'em in the comments below to win a chance of me giving a fuck! Seriously, though, every time I see this shit it just jettisons me completely out of the movie. 

Only slightly less annoying is the introduction of (very) broad comedy to the series, with sad-sack Harold being mercilessly hen-pecked by his repellent wife Edna. Hell, even their names are as basic as you can get, giving me the impression that screenwriters Martin Kitrosser, Carol Watson and (the justifiably uncredited) Petru Popescu are barely trying here. Humor is a really tricky element to balance in these movies, with Part V completely sunk by broad, obnoxious, over-the-top characters but, in the hands of a talented director, Part VI's comedy soars. But, hey, more on that later...

So, yeah, as far as I can tell, this intro is there just to burn up some run time and get Jason into some sleek new duds. I guess one plus is that we finally get to see him out of the environs of Camp Crystal Lake, but even that turns out to be a detriment. Y'see, the production team moved Part III 's shooting location from the atmospheric East Coast (Warren County, New Jersey in Part I and New Preston and Kent, Connecticut in Part II) to friggin' Saugus, California. 

And it really shows. We see palm trees in the distance on Vera's street, the grounds of Higgins Haven look arid and sun-baked and "Crystal Lake" is now a tiny, muddy-looking swamp. All of the chilly, atmospheric, "summer camp" visual qualities of the previous two movies has completely drained away, only to be replaced with blue skies, sandy shorelines, green pond scum and dusty paths that look more at home in a friggin' cowboy flick.  

So, between the protracted Part II recap and the Edna / Harold mercy kill, we're forced to sit through  the screenwriting equivalent of Donkey Kong throwing barrels at Mario. I guess, by this point, Steve Miner and his screenwriters were just like "Well, fuck it, people seem cool with the formula, so let's not fix the unbroken!" As a result, the characters in Part III feel like empty tin cans and Jason is the  pellet gun. 

Soooo, when your goal is just to knock off a bunch of walking corpses, an elaborate plot is actually kinda anathema to this goal. Unfortunately, it also means that Miner and company are forced to dick around a lot in order to achieve a modest run time of 95 minutes. 

And dick around they do, mainly in the barn. That fucking barn. First we get a scene where Rick pointlessly hefts bales of hay, then Fox auditions for American Pickers by slooooowly walking around, taking an inventory of everything she comes across. And, if that wasn't enough, Chuck n' Chili also meander around the place, prompting Shelly to go looking for them. It's all so phreakin' dull. 

Padding the scream, er...screen time is one thing, but Miner and company also throw continuity under the bus as well. At one point, Chris tells Rick about some creepy weirdo she encountered in the woods a few years back and, no, I'm not talking about Mitch McConnell. Anyway, during the flashback that follows, Jason should look like he did in Part II because, need I remind you, the events of that film happened just days ago. But nope, he looks identical to the unmasked Jason we see at the end of this flick, and they didn't even bother to dress him up in denim overalls, a blue plaid shirt and a burlap sack. This whole scene reeks of pure laziness.

Speaking of Jason, he's played here by British stuntman / brick shithouse Richard Brooker and, thank gawd because (controversial hot take inbound), he's actually my all-time favorite Jason. He's just this big, hulking, lanky, simian-limbed, hunchbacked monster with a practical, workmanlike attitude towards killin' folks. The first time we see him in all of his goalie-masked splendor, he just casually strolls into frame, aims a spear gun at Vera, skewers her skull, throws the weapon down in disgust and then looks back at Higgins Haven as if to say 'Fuck, now I've gotta come up with seven more distinctly different kills for all o' dese annoying motherfuckers. *Sigh*, I'm gonna be up all night!'          

Most of the kills are pretty pedestrian and, even worse, a lot are meant to take advantage of the whole 3-D gimmick, like the hatchet, knitting needle, pitchfork, the aforementioned speargun and the eye-poppin' head squish. The latter two, plus the laughably-bad 3-D snake attack from earlier, are all hampered by the sort of blatantly fake-looking string work that's usually reserved for an Ed Wood Jr. movie. 

At least some of the kills are decent. In fact, one of my all-time favorites is when Andy gets a machete to the crotch while he's showing off, walking around the cabin on his hands like a doofus. And, despite the obvious string work, I do love that speargun kill, as well as the call back to Kevin Bacon's death when Debbie gets perforated while reading Fangoria in the hammock. And, hey, at least the film-makers went through the bother of showcasing Jason's creepy penchant for leaving corpses strewn around the camp to freak out the remaining survivors and ramp up their terror level.  

As soon as Jason "borrows" Shelly's goalie mask...

WARNING - SIDE RANT: Oh, please, for the love of everything holy, can we please stop calling it a "hockey mask"? Y'all sound like Americans when you say shit like that. Do catchers wear a "baseball mask"? Fuck, no! It's a goalie mask, plain and simple! Jezis! 

...and lumbers on screen for the first time, you can actually witness a horror film icon being born in real-time. And, mercifully, the film's pace finally picks up from there on in. 

The heightened action is augmented by yet another great score by the legendary Harry Manfredini. Not only does his usual suite of bangers entertain and thrill here, I love the little touches, like the stings he throws in when Chris is desperately slashing at Jason with a knife. Also, bonus props to Manfredini and co-writer Michael Zager for giving us the gloriously-dated main credits disco theme, which they recorded under the appropriately-cheesy moniker of "Hot Ice." Seriously, this is probably the best piece of spoopy Halloween music ever recorded: 

So, as you've noticed, I've left the character for last, mainly because they were clearly an afterthought to the screenwriters as well. I think the biggest issue is that my brain really can't reconcile how Chris knows all of these random dipshits and why she'd invite them to her family's cabin, especially if she's in such a fragile mental state. Particularly inexplicable is the presence of "Cheech & Chong with the serial numbers filed off": Chuck and Chili. Seriously, how would Chris even know these two yahoos? Chuck is, like 40, at least. 

Next up is Shelly, who has since become a fan favorite, which I can sorta understand since Larry Zerner is perfectly cast as the prototypical horror movie prankster. You gotta remember that, back then, casting directors would often pluck awkward looking nerds out of obscurity, sometimes right off the street, for roles like this. Nowadays, directors always seem to use generic, pretty-looking underwear models and then splotch a lame strawberry birthmark on their face to make them feel self conscious and "ugly." Lame.

Anyway, I think Zerner does a great job as Shelly, but he's also completely sold down the river by the screenwriters. This is a real shame since he's only one of two characters to get any sort of development at all. Sadly, the script fails to generate any sympathy for Shelly...just witness:

• He scares the shit out of his "friends" by stalking them in a creepy, see-through plastic mask a la the killer in Alice, Sweet, Alice. Please note that one of these people is Chris, who is clearly traumatized by some undisclosed event.
• When Andy encourages Shelly to "be himself" he replies "Would you be yourself...if you looked like this?" and then lifts his mask off. Like, seriously, who would want this morose motherfucker around?
• He introduces himself to his potential date Vera while wearing the aforementioned creepy mask...and then fucking apologizes to her when he takes it off. Falking hopeless. 
• Since he's depicted as a sad, pathetic, man-child / attention whore who doesn't learn anything, Shelly singles out assault victim Chris by faking his own death with a prop axe to the head. For the record, he thinks its hilarious, but everyone else thinks he's a cunt. Sorry, but I'm with the majority on this one.
• He pretty much flat out asks Vera if she wants to bone and then, when she has the unmitigated gall to say "no" (but reassures him that she's willing to chat when she gets back to the cabin!), he calls her a "bitch" under his breath. So, I gotta ask, do incels have a picture of this twat up on their chat boards?
• While Vera is sitting lakeside, Shelly pops out of the water wearing a fucking goalie mask and carrying a speargun. Which, let's face it, is definitely the inspiration for this scene from The Simpsons. This subsequently lowers her guard when a similarly-attired Jason shows up later and kills her. 
• While snooping around in the barn, the little creep actually says: "Chuck? Chili?  What're you guys doing in there? You guys doin' somethin' I shouldn't see?"...and then proceeds to keep poking around. Ew.
• Shelly is such a notorious "cry wolf" POS that when he eventually shows up with a slashed throat, Chili understandably assumes that he's faking it again. This delays her reaction, lowers her guard and sets her up to be killed by Jason as well. Thanks, you putz.  

So, yeah, I'm definitely pro-Dead Shelly. Notwithstanding his flirtation with heroism RE: the biker gang and his safety-related contribution to Jason's iconic look, I'd say good riddance to the annoying prick. 

Paul Kratka's Rick Bombay (?) doesn't fare much better. Despite the fact that Chris is clearly rattled about something, he's constantly begging her for sexual table scraps. Kratka is charismatic enough, but he just comes across as a whiny, self-absorbed meathead. Ergo, my favorite scene featuring Rick is when Jason hurls him through a window in a nice homage to Brenda being medicine balled into Alice's cabin in Part I.   

There really isn't much to be said for Tracie Savage as Debbie and Jeffrey Rogers as Andy. Tracie is fine, although her performance feels stilted and self-conscious. As for Jeffrey, he nails the whole cocky fuck / discount Scott Baio thing. Of all the main cast, I'd say Catherine Parks as Vera is the most appealing character in relation to her woefully-low screen time. 

Speaking of low screen time, I just need to bitch about the presence of David Wiley as Abel. I'm not gonna slight Wiley here, it's more of a rant about how Steve Miner inexplicably killed off poor Walt Gorney's Crazy Ralph in Part II...only to introduce yet another insane local soothsayer. Walt Gorney is a gorram international treasure, Steve...why'd ya murder my boi and then introduce a virtually identical character in the follow-up? This was another squandered opportunity to build on the lore of the series, ya hack!  

But the thing that really cracks me up about Part III is the incongruous biker gang that's apparently terrorizing this virtually-deserted stretch of rural New Jersey. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that this trio was the product of lazy, creatively bankrupt Californian screenwriters who think that it's a good idea to make the first two black Friday the 13'th characters be criminals. For the record, Nick Savage and Gloria Charles are fine as Ali and Fox respectively, but I really can't take Kevin O'Brien seriously as "Loco", mainly because he reminds me of Scott Thompson's Buddy Cole posing as a gay biker, a thought which always makes me giggle.

Then, last but not least, we have Dana Kimmell as Chris Higgins. Following up from Amy Steel's Ginny in Part II is a pretty unenviable task, and Kimmell definitely suffers in comparison. Although she's definitely the ultimate "(final) girl next door", Dana's performance feels really labored, like she's trying too hard to sell every line. Still, she's plucky, winsome and the script mercifully treats her as innovative, quick-thinking and resilient.

After Rick abandons Chris like the asshole that he is, our girl proves to be more than a match for Jason, an aptitude that start to border on unintentionally funny. At one point, she rains the entire ENGLISH 418 - 19'th Century Novel required reading list down on Jason's fiberglassed noggin' and then wards him off with a knife. Then, after noticing that his mask offers precious little protection from the back, she smokes him right in the ol' cue-ball with a double-handed junk of wood. 

Equally amusing: Jason suddenly starts limping after Chris stabs him in the leg...in contrast to THE MASSIVE MACHETE INJURY HE SUSTAINED TO HIS LEFT SHOULDER just hours before. This wound was so deep and grievous that it would have completely shattered his clavicle and upper ribs, but, hey, no biggie. 

Much to my chagrin, we soon find ourselves back in the barn for the big climax, but at least Chris uses her familiarity with the environment to get an upper hand on Monsieur Voorhees. Pretty soon the hunter has become the hunted and it all leads up to a legitimately thrilling and tense finale. The very end of the film also earns more brownie point from me, mainly because it pays homage to the fake-out finales of the first two flicks wile honoring Betsy Palmer's Pamela Voorhees as the alpha and omega of the series. 

All told, the movie starts out shaky, brings Jason into the realm of horror icon, and then ends with a thrilling denouement. And, although the producers original intended for this to end the series, Part III did so well that a sequel was soon green-lit!

But let's save that campfire tale for another time!  

      

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