Wednesday, October 14, 2020

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!  

      
Tilt: up


    
 

Tuesday, October 6, 2020

Movie Review: "The Wicker Man" (1973)


Sadly, if you mention The Wicker Man in polite conversation nowadays some chuckle-head will invariably drop to their knees and start doing their best scenery-chewing Nic Cage impersonation:


But long before Neil LaBute's ill-conceived, meme-a-licious remake was crapped into existence, the  original Wicker Man from 1973 not only birthed the "folk horror" sub-genre it eventually became a celebrated cult classic. Star Christopher Lee even went so far as it call it the "best film he ever made."

The story centers around the investigations of an Uber-religious Police Sergeant named Howie, played by Edward Woodward of The Equalizer fame. After learning about the disappearance of a young girl named Rowan Morrison, Howie travels via seaplane to isolated Summerisle off the west coast of Scotland. Once there, he discovers that the locals are being pretty cagey about Rowan and pretty soon their collective stories are rife with inconsistencies. 

Seemingly even worse for the Puritanical cop are the villager's ethical and spiritual views. To Howie's horror, they've collectively veered away from Catholicism and fallen back into their old Pagan beliefs. Their pub songs are overtly ribald and cheeky, folks bone outdoors right in front of each other and the fetching daughter of the innkeeper, Willow (Britt Eklund), enthusiastically attempts to seduce Howie with a pretty alluring nude dance / spell combination. 

Sounds like an awesome getaway to me, but, for the repressed police officer, it's a worst case scenario. Between his palpable disgust over the "heathen's" libertine behavior and the hubris that stems from his false sense of moral and spiritual high ground, Howie soon finds himself at odds with the island's ancestral leader, Lord Summerisle, played by Christopher Lee. Eventually the officer starts to unravel the mystery surrounding the girl's disappearance, leading to one of the most shocking and powerful twist endings in cinema history. 

Unlike most modern horror pictures, the setting, performances and the music are all top notch here. Shot on location in a series of small Scottish towns, the film's mise en scene is completely convincing. The various shops, the Green Man pub, Summerisle Castle and all of the exteriors really sell the illusion of authenticity. 

This is augmented by a soundtrack that  starts off deceptively innocuous, via folksy tunes like "Corn Riggs"; a song I suspect only makes sense to people who own a disproportionate amount of sheep. But then, thanks to bangers like "Maypole Song" and "Fireleap", the movie's aural presence starts to veer into increasingly esoteric, odd and unsettling territory. "Willow's Song", for example, is hauntingly- evocative of both the scene where it's used as well as the film's overall cock-eyed tone.


Equally convincing are the film's off-kilter performances. Edward Woodward plays Detective Howie with stick-up-the-ass perfection, bringing the perfect balance of pent-up distaste, Catholic arrogance and patronizing bravado to the role. He shows tremendous range, especially when things start to go sideways, upon which time he's forced to pivot from square-jawed swagger to twitchy, sweaty desperation.    

As for Christopher Lee, he shares some great "OooOoo...snap!" exchanges with Woodward, such as the following:

Howie: Oh, what is all this? I mean, you've got fake biology, fake religion...Sir, have these children never heard of Jesus?
Summerisle: Himself the son of a virgin, impregnated, I believe, by a ghost.
(Howie suddenly looks visibly shaken)
Summerisle: Do sit down, Sergeant. Shocks are so much better absorbed with the knees bent.

Even as a rational, modern viewer who knows full well that the medicinal properties of toads are limited at best and blood sacrifices can be messy and complicated, Lee's portrayal of Lord Summerisle is so cool, confident and self-assured that I'm tempted to call up my travel agent and rent a B&B there  next May Day weekend. 

Genre fans will certainly appreciate the brief, albeit welcome, presence of penultimate Hammer horror Scream Queen Ingrid Pitt, who plays the tightly-wound town librarian, who we later see um,...unwinding in the bathtub. Diane Cilento is also wonderfully flinty as Miss Rose, the local schoolteacher. I love her verbal sparing match with Howie and how genuinely perplexed she seems to be by his obstinate, and abstinent, ways.

Then there's the impossibly-gorgeous Britt Ekland who, by all accounts, didn't have the best time filming The Wicker Man. Even though the Swedish actress was dubbed by two other women to sound convincingly Scottish, but I think she was perfectly cast as the ethereal Willow and her performance is still downright mesmerizing. Also deserving mention is her on-screen pops, Alder, played by Lindsay Kemp. There's a wonderfully slippery, besotted and vaguely degenerate quality to Kemp's demeanor, which sets off alarm bells whenever he's on screen.

But, honestly, the film's two greatest strengths are its script and the escalating parade of oddities that we bear witness to, leading up to a finale which I can only describe as the cinematic equivalent of being struck in the head with a surfboard. Between the discordant tone, quirky performances and the increasingly-inexplicable conveyor belt of visual and aural oddities, the film maintains a gloriously sustained atmosphere of creeping dread throughout the entire run time.

The Wicker Man might be the great-grandfather of the "folk horror" sub-genre, but it's also still one of the best.     

 
Tilt: up.

Sunday, December 22, 2019

Sixteen Things That Annoy Me About "The Last Jedi"

 
This past Friday, I sat through a corporate event for the privilege of watching the latest corporate Star Wars movie: The Rise of Skywalker. How apropos.

To prepare for this, I re-watched The Last Jedi, which re-assured my unpopular opinion that the movie isn't terrible. In fact, if you're one of those people who thinks that TLJ is the worst Star Wars movie, then I'm afraid that your aesthetic is broken and we really can't be friends.

Because, for all it's fuck ups, at least The Last Jedi isn't a color-by-numbers soft reboot of A New Hope like The Farce Awakens was, nor is it a well intentioned, but otherwise artistically-bankrupt, pile of garbage like The Phantom Men-Ass, Attack of the Clowns or Revenge of the Shit.

But to paraphrase Yoda: "a perfect film, it is not." After my re-watch I noted sixteen things that ranged from irksome to downright idiotic. Granted, some of these are kinda nit-picky but they all take me out of the film in some way.

So, strap yourselves in, folks...we're about to make the jump into hyper-waste.

(16) The First Order Reigns...In Your Mom 


This one's actually a carry-over from my rant about The Force Awakens, which I'll just repeat right here...

"What exactly is The Resistance? And who are the First Order? When we last left the Rebels, they'd struck a decisive blow against the Empire. We felt content that the story was told and the good guys had won the day. So, what the hell happened in the galaxy over the past thirty / forty years?!? 

"Maybe the remnants of the Imperial fleet retreated to some distant corner of the galaxy, re-branded themselves and eventually came back with a vengeance. And maybe the New Republic, weary of conflict, just let them do their thing, underscoring the dangers of capitulation. Maybe the Resistance sprung up because Leia recognized the impending threat and could see where things were headed.

"Unfortunately, everything I just typed is an assumption. I've never read any supplemental Star Wars books and I flat out refuse to. Frankly, if I gotta buy and then read an effin' novel just to give this movie some badly-needed context, then things are clearly flawed."

The sad fact of the matter is: the most interesting part of this story, I.E. the rise of the First Order and the corruption of Ben Solo, has already happened by this point and what we're getting now just feels like table scraps.

Back when I reviewed The Force Awakens I wrote the following:

"Yeah, yeah...I know, I know...we're just getting started and it's likely that these questions and many more will be answered in the next installment."

Ah, 2015. It was a more innocent time for me. Poor, naive sap...

I didn't know it at the time but The Last Jedi would brazenly double down on these vagaries. In fact, the gorram title crawl has the audacity to declare that "THE FIRST ORDER REIGNS."  But why? How? In light of the good guys blowing the shit outta Starkiller Base, this is particularly baffling.

Since these sequel  movies have given us zero context and stakes, the First Order is less a concrete threat and more of a generic fabrication designed to validate the existence of Disney-sponsored Star Wars product.

Which leads me to my next point...

(15) The First Order? More Like The WORST Order


Kylo Ren is my favorite sequel trilogy character because he's a parody of edgelord Star Wars dudebros who worship Dark Side shit. And I'm all about making fun of sad fucks who fetishisize villains over heroes.

The only problem is that everyone in the First Order is equally pathetic. Hux is a complete ass-hat and there's nothing scary or intimidating about him at all. In fact, the only Resistance officer with any gravitas, Captain Canady, well-played by Mark Lewis Jones, gets dispatched almost immediately. Pissing away such a great character is a pretty clear indicator that Rian Johnson isn't concerned with giving us any intimidating villains.


And, let's face it, a movie like this is only as good as its bad guys. Hey, I don't mind if one or two of them are depicted as mooks, but there's zero tension if every one of them are a bunch of incompetent yahoos.

(14) Finn the Forgotten 

 
I know I'm supposed to judge a movie based on what it did as opposed to what I wanted it to do but, in Finn's case, I really can't help speculating. In my opinion, Rian Johnson had 152 minutes to explore Finn's character and he didn't even try.

I really liked Finn in the first movie. He went AWOL from the First Order because he hated what he was being asked to do and he was also a bit of a scaredy-cat. Despite his clear attraction to Rey he was still willing to walk away from her because of shame and cowardice but, ultimately, he came back because he clearly has feelings for her.

In fact, as soon as Finn "comes to" in The Last Jedi, the first word out of his mouth is "Rey!" Clearly she's paramount in his thoughts, soooo...why not let him go find her?

How about this: Finn discovers that all troopers have L'il Anakin-style 'splody homing beacons in their noggins, which is how the First Order is tracking the Resistance. So he goes on a solo mission to try and remove it and /or find Rey to warn her of danger. Somewhere along the way he gets captured by Phasma, which would have given Johnson the perfect opportunity to explore their adversarial relationship as well as his origins.

But nope, instead, his quest it undone by a superfluous, hitherto unknown partner and then gets side-tracked in a pointless sub-plot. What a waste!

(13) Luke: "How Did You Find Me?" Rey: "Um...Google Maps?"


Does anyone else think that Luke's reaction to Rey's appearance on the island is a tad "methinks thou dost protest too much?"

Look, all I'm saying is that someone put the missing map piece in R2's memory banks...and it wasn't Ponda Baba.

(12) ♬♪ "Your Best Friend's Dead and Your Gonna Say 'M'eh' Now" / "Hey, Ya...Hey, Ya...Your Best Friend's Dead!" ♫♩

 
Luke chucking his lightsaber away is a level of subversion that makes sense to me. But as soon as he  hears that his sister is in dire straits (the condition, not the band) and his best friend is dead, I'd like to think that he'd march right back, shoo the porgs away, pick up his lazer sword and spring into action. If not at that point than certainly when R2 replays Leia's original holographic plea to Obi-Wan.

After years of wallowing in defeat, it makes sense that Luke is a bitter, disillusioned, depressed, broken martyr. The unfortunate thing is that we didn't see what bright him to that point. The last time we saw Luke at the end of Return of the Jedi he was resolved, triumphant, and resolute.

Maybe if we'd actually witnessed some of the events that made him borderline suicidal, than his appearance in The Last Jedi wouldn't have been so jarring to fans.

(11) That Battleship Is About As Impregnable As A Parking Garage!


You know what would improve the design of these military starships? Make it so that you can't fly directly into their super-structure and blow 'em up! It's as if the half-built second Death Star in ROTJ caught on as some sort of galactic, avant-garde hipster design ethos.

(10) General Leia Does Her Captain Marvel Impersonation

 
I love the idea of Leia finally displaying her Force powers...but the way she does it is unintentionally funny.

After her cruiser got hit, it would have been great to see her instinctively whip around, form some sort of protective barrier and prevent the explosive decompression which would allow the bridge crew to escape. Sure, it's not as OP as what we got but it's also not patently ridiculous to watch.   

(9) Vice-Admiral Who Now?



First off, I'm still not entirely sure why Poe takes so much heat in this film.

You can't blame him for the bombers getting creamed because the concept of sending a fleet of ponderous, poorly-armed, virtually-defenseless, meandering ships hurtling directly at a dreadnought is inherently stupid. I guess Poe's refusal to obey Leia's order to retreat forces the fleet to stick around and cover his insubordinate ass. Unfortunately, other than Leia briefly looking at a tactical display, Poe's role in the squandering of the Resistance fleet is very poorly conveyed.

After Leia is incapacitated, Laura Dern's Vice Admiral Holdo is summarily introduced from out of nowhere. Sorry, but Holdo is nothing more than Rian Johnson's hubris at work. And, hey, this is coming from someone who absolutely adores Laura Dern. Unfortunately, the character's caustic attitude and Dern's appropriately-flinty performance make for one condescending and repellent package.

In order for Poe's arc in the movie to work, he has to be in the wrong. And since we already know, like and trust him, our sympathies automatically lie with him as opposed to Holdo. Especially when she acts like a shifty, snarky, uncommunicative twat-waffle. This would be like Yoda ordering Luke to go kick Vader's ass in The Empire Strikes Back and responding "if your opinion I wanted, beat it out of you, I would" if Luke expressed any doubts at all.

(8) Rose. Just...Rose 

 
In The Last Jedi, Rian Johnson acts like a petulant child that hates the outdated toys left to him by his big brother J.J. I actually visualize him crossing his arms, stamping his feet and muttering "I want NEW stuff!" within earshot of Kathleen Kennedy.

Unfortunately that new plaything turned out to be Rose Tico.

Before I proceed, lemme get one thing straight: Kelly Marie Tran is a lovely and delightful human bean and doesn't deserve any of the nasty treatment she was subjected to. It's important to stress that the only people who can't distinguish creator from actor are slack-jawed troglodytes.

It's not her fault that the part was ill-conceived and poorly written. Between Rose directly spoiling Finn and Rey's early reunion and her batshit insane motivations towards the end of the film, most audience members found her to be alternately preachy and / or annoying. If you don't believe me, head over to your nearest discount department store and see how many Rose Tico (in)action figures you can buy for twenty bucks.

Hint: it's twenty of them.

(7) "Lupita Nyong'o Is Asking For Black Panther Money Now? Okay, We'll Fix Her Little, Red Wagon..."

Maz Kanata should’ve been the "master code breaker." It would’ve given this already-established  character some much-needed screen time, scrapped her dumb-ass cameo in the flick and, most importantly, jettisoned all of that pointless Canto Bight nonsense.

Plus maybe she would have had the time to explain this cryptic and infuriating bullshit...


(6) "Rey, Meet The Locals: Jab, Streex, Big Slammu, and Ripster."


Speaking of toys, Rian Johnson was 21 when Street Sharks debuted in 1994. And although he was clearly too old to collect them, I still think he was a fan, cuz' the lanai, or the caretakers that live on the planet of Ahch-To, look like whtat would happen if a street shark fucked an ostrich.

The way these natives are introduced in the film is really jarring. They just kinda pop in, milling around the stone village as if they suddenly phased in from another dimension. It's like they all collectively shrugged of their Harry Potter-style invisibility cloaks...and the effect is really jarring.

Every time I watch this scene I feel as if I'm experiencing some sort of weird, communal, audience participation-style acid flashback with Luke and Rey.

(5) "Yeah, Right Here Is Fine!" 


Consider this: everything goes wrong on Canto Bight just because Rose and Finn are too cheap to pay for parking.

This would be like abandoning your Hyundai Accent on Miami Beach and then wandering through the lobby of the Fontainebleau Hotel. C'mon, Rian...no one is that stupid! 

(4) Phasma Is Back...And Not In A Detention Cell

 
I don't know what's worse: that Rian Johnson bothered to bring Phasma back with absolutely no repercussions after sold out the entire First Order in the first flick...or that her character's motivations and connections to Finn are completely ignored. This is fucking unforgivable.

(3) The Real Mary Sue Isn't Rey...It's BB-8 


For two dyer balls stuck together, that droid is 'effin dynamite. Not only can BB-8 turn slot machine tokens into dangerous projectiles, she's also mobile enough to steal and pilot a scout walker by herself. Jesus, why doesn't the Resistance just put a bulk order into Boston Dynamics and be done with it?

(2) Save-Us Interruptus  

 
Between John Boyega’s awesome performance and the stirring music from John Williams, Finn's run at the surface cannon could have capped off a decent arc for the character. Instead Rose intervenes, nearly killing both of them. Again...who the fuck would even think to do that?!?

Finn's self-sacrifice could have single-highhandedly saved his new friends and fired up their will to fight on. Instead we get the following inane conclusion:

(1) Luke: "The Force Isn’t About Lifting Rocks!" Rey: "Okay, Boomer!" 

 
If the script hadn't done poor Luke dirty at every turn, this could have been a cute moment. But since our beloved hero was written as a contender for the "Worst Cinematic Mentor EVAR" award, this sage advice comes across as yet another example of his failure.

***

So, there you have it. Keep an eye on this space for my review of The Rise of Skywalker, coming soon. Will it finally justify the existence of the Disney Star Wars trilogy or will the whole thing be revealed as little more than perfunctory entertainment product shit out to recoup an investment?

Place your bets, folks!


Thursday, November 28, 2019

Movie Review: "Knives Out"


I can't help but think that Knives Out is Rian Johnson's giant middle finger to all of those neck-bearded Star Wars fanboys out there who called him a hack because of The Last Jedi. If anything, this modern whodunit proves, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Johnson is a terrific film-maker who just got caught up in the pop culture equivalent of the Kobayashi Maru test.

With just about every recent release being a remake, reboot or falking superhero flick, Knives Out feels quaint, like a film-noir detective story or a classic Western not helmed by Quentin Tarantino. Even though the film brings to mind movies like Clue or an Agatha Christie novel, Johnson quickly dispenses with the core keep-away that's driven every single murder mystery since time immemorial. So, not only are we getting a fun modern example of a sadly-defunct genre, we'r also getting a fresh spin on the whole thing.

Having said that, all of the key elements are here. Christopher Plummer plays Harlan Thrombey, a writer who's successful mystery novels have built an empire that his vapid and selfish relatives are consciously leeching off of. Between his adult children and various other hanger-ons, the line up of suspects various from slightly sneaky to downright reprehensible. As such, Harlan decides to clean house just before his 85'th birthday, giving everyone in this toxic inner circle some motivation to end him.

Clearly there isn't anything particularly original about this hoary old elevator pitch. This extends to the hackneyed setting, which looks like stately Wayne Manor packed with overflow stock from The Travelling Antiques Roadshow. But what takes Knives Out from novelty to something truly special is how this stock scenario plays out.

First up, there's the stellar cast. The aforementioned Plummer is his usual charismatic self, essentially acting as the bedrock on which all of the other players can tap-dance. Jamie Lee Curtis is fantastic as Harlan's flinty, non-nonsense elder daughter Linda, Don Johnson is dodgy and slimy as her skeeze-ball husband Richard and Chris Evans is wonderfully smarmy as the bratty trust-fund grandson Hugh.

A hippy-dippy Toni Collette is also stellar as Joni Thrombey. She's so convincingly fake that she actually loops back around to authentic again. Props also go out to the always-awesome Michael Shannon who plays Harlan's son was Walt. As the opportunistic overseer of his dad's publishing empire, Shannon really brings out the character's desperation as his station is threatened.

It's tough to stand out among all of this talent, but two performers in particular really hit it out of the park. The first is lead protagonist Marta Cabrera, played by Ana de Armas, who was last seen as dream girl Joi in Blade Runner 2049. Here she's asked to carry the entire film, which she does with considerable wit, pathos and humor. 

The other top performer is Daniel Craig, who's clearly relishing his role as the southern-fried private dick Benoit Blanc. I'm just gonna ask Rian Johnson this right now: please, please, please bring this character back every few years for a series of  unconventional modern mysteries. At first, it's downright weird hearing that particular voice coming out of James Bond's mouth, but Craig's enthusiasm is so infectious and he delivers the purposefully over-wrought with such aplomb that I stop worrying and just went with it. 

Johnson's achievements aren't limited to the twisty-turny script or the dark humor inherent in the material. He also brings tremendous energy to the picture, directing the proceedings with considerable verve and artistic flair. Coupled with some crackerjack editing by Bob Ducsay and an appropriately-jaunty and string-heavy soundtrack by Nathan Johnson, you've got yourself a lively little crowd-pleaser.

I sincerely hope this film is successful and it kicks off a revival of the entire genre. Frankly, I'm at the stage where I'd take twelve of these things over one more mediocre Star Wars or Marvel movie.               
Knives Out scores four stars out of five with a healthy tilt up towards the widow's walk.


Wednesday, November 13, 2019

T.V. Review: "The Mandalorian"


As intriguing as the Rebel vs. Imperial or Jedi vs. Sith struggles are in Star Wars, I've always been keenly interested in all of those weird-ass characters half-glimpsed in the periphery. I'm talking about the oddball droids in the Jawa sandcrawler, the denizens of the cantina or the bounty hunters in The Empire Strikes Back. Not so much the retinue in Jabba's Palace though, since, in the immortal words of Dante Hicks, those clowns were "just a bunch of fucking Muppets."

Yep, I've always been curious about the fringe-ier or scummier aspects of the Star Wars universe. And, apparently, so are The Mandalorian's main creative duo of Jon Favreau and Dave Feloni. As such, this is, IMHO, the first vaguely interesting and original Star Wars content that Disney has produced since they acquired the licence. Indeed, I'd go so far as to say that the show has single-handedly reminded me why I loved this property in the first place.

CHAPTER 1

The first episode of The Mandalorian sees the titular bad-ass nabbing a bounty on some desolate frozen tundra planet which might very well be somewhere in Newfoundland. Right away I was impressed by the tangible reality of this scene. The sets aren't digital, there aren't CGI abominations all over the place and it doesn't look like it was edited with an immersion blender.

Which reminds me, since ANH, TESB and ROTJ are almost universally regarded as the best episodes in this entire series so far, then why don't modern film-makers do a better job honoring the visual style of those films? I'm not saying that you have to rehash the same content (I'm looking at you, Abrams), I'm just saying that, by employing similar camerawork, framing and editing techniques you can, at the very least, create some visual ties to the original saga.

But more on that later.

Anyhoo, when the Mandalorian strides into that bar at the start of Chapter One, it's not hard to tell that Feloni and Favreau are really embracing the original inspiration for Boba Fett as a sort of space- opera version of "The Man With No Name." Just like Clint Eastwood in the spaghetti westerns of Sergio Leone, our titular character is laconic, mysterious and can clearly back up his intimidating swagga with some legit deadly combat skills.

After the Mandalorian lugs his quarry back to his ship, the Razor Crest, director Dave Feloni treats uber-nerds like yours truly to a fun little homage. When a massive beast emerges from underneath the ice and threatens to void his warranty, the Mandalorian drives the creature away with a very distinct- looking weapon. It actually matches a rifle that Boba Fett sported during his first appearance in the decent animated segment of the otherwise dreadful Star Wars Holiday Special. It's a nice little nod to fans and a tip of the hat towards Fett's original designers Ralph McQuarrie and Joe Johnston.


During the subsequent space flight, the Mandalorian proves to be more than slack-jawed and intimidating; he's also downright scary. When his captive, Mythrol, played by a nervously-talkative and decidedly-shifty Horatio Sanz, goes snooping around the ship, his spooky host suddenly pops up from outta nowhere like Freddy phreakin' Kruger. The bounty hunter hucks his prisoner into a personal-sized carbonite chamber, freeze-drying the nosy l'il bastid for the rest of the journey.

Clearly this dude is not to be trifled with.  

After the Mandalorian turns in a plethora of bounties, he boldly takes on a very lucrative, but strictly  hush-hush contract, proffered by an intense client with clear ties to the recently-overthrown Empire. This sees the mercenary travelling to a remote world, learning an important lesson in humility, partnering with a darkly comedic war droid named IG-11 and getting a lot more than he bargained for.

To divulge anymore particulars would be a disservice, so I'll just say that the end twist will ensure that I'll be tuning in for every new episode like a dutiful little Mousekateer. Although the script is nothing revolutionary, I certainly appreciate the scene where the Mandalorian returns to the hidden hideout of his people. I'll be the first to admit that my knowledge of his race is pretty sketchy, so I appreciate that the show runners are making an effort to shed some light on his origins. 

Dave Filoni, who's Clone Wars series did wonders to improve my dire view of Lucas's dreadful prequels, helms this material confidently. The story clips along at a nice, clear, planet-hopping pace, culminating in a Wild West-style shootout that perfectly embodies the point I was trying to make earlier. There aren't a million cuts in this sequence and, since the camera keeps its distance from the action, we can easily follow the battle's narrative. Thanks, Dave, for not falling prey to the same pall that afflicts so many modern-day action directors, with their penchant for hyperactive cuts and  incessant close- up's of kinetic blurs.

The cast is all uniformly great. Pedro Pascal moves with cool confidence and I'm pleased that he doesn't do the same ol' cliche, gravelly, bad-ass voice for the few lines he's tasked to deliver. It's also great to see the legendary Carl Weathers as Greef Carga, the leader of a bounty hunter guild. His demeanor is downright fuzzy and warm compared to that of Werner Herzog, who plays the mysterious Client with reptilian detachment. Anyone who's seen one of the storied director's documentaries and his narration therein knows exactly what I'm talking about. Dude is creepy as fux here.

Another fun addition is Nick Nolte (!) as Kuiil (!!), an Ugnaught (!!!) moisture farmer who encourages the Mandalorian to sneak into his destination instead of just plunking his ship down in their midst. Like the aforementioned Sanz, Nolte is practically unrecognizable under all that  convincing porcine makeup. Honestly, I had no clue that either of those two actors were in there but, once I discovered their identity, their particular tics and mannerisms inform both characters quite well.

This also extends to the voice work by Taika Waititi as IG-11. The promotional stills and trailers had me convinced that the character was actually the infamous bounty hunter IG-88 from The Empire Strikes Back, but I'm kind of relieved that it's not. Honestly, new characters will give the showrunners the freedom be more creative. Armed with Favreau's witty dialogue, Waititi wrings a lot of mileage out of a genuinely-funny recurring bit centered around the droid's masochistic proclivity towards premature self-destruction.

I also can't say enough about the show's flawless production values. The costumes, props, ships and sets all look spectacular. Setting the series after the fall of the Empire not only gives Favreau and company the ability to pepper in some really cool little visual Easter eggs, but they also have the freedom to come up with their own evolving visual palate. Related to this, I think the producers should just go ahead and park a sandcrawler filled with cash in front of Joe Johnston's house and politely ask him to come up with a few more iconic designs.

The ending of this episode was like the first episode of The Shield, but set in a "galaxy far, far away." Not only does it show that the Mandalorian is relatable as a character, it also conjures up enough questions to ensure that I'll be sitting there again this next Friday, wearing my mouse ears and waiting anxiously for Chapter Two to upload.

Chapter 2: “The Child”

I think I liked this episode more than the first. How is that even possible?!?

So, we pick up the action right at the end of Chapter 1 with Los Mandos escorting his newly-acquired, and painfully adorable, bounty back to his ship. He’s then alerted to an imminent ambush, which results in a brutal fight between our (anti) hero and a Trandoshan hit squad.

Now, given my inexplicable fetish for the bounty hunter Bossk from The Empire Strikes Back, I’m always excited whenever these gnarly lizard-folk show up in any Star Wars property. So, full disclosure: I’m already predisposed to giving the episode a pass but, mercifully, the whole thing turned out to be even better than its choice of minor antagonists.

The Mandalorian makes short work of the bounty hunters, but he’s wounded in the process. After the fray, we see that the Trandos were carrying a tracker as well, so we can safely assume that every gank squad in the galaxy is coming for The Child.

Which leads me to a few observations about the saucer-eyed, hang-glider-eared tyke. In most shitty movies and TV shows babies are depicted as noisy, hyperactive, obnoxious little fuckers that you want to see punted off screen within a few seconds. But this isn’t the case with what the internet has already dubbed as “Baby Yoda.” Just like the famous Jedi Master that shares his species, this adorable l’il larvae is so calm, zen and observant, you just wanna chew his cute l’il green face right off. 

Um, sorry. Just me?

This is made no more apparent than in the very next scene. While the Mandalorian tries to patch himself up, he keeps having to pause and put Babyoda back in his crib, ‘cuz he keeps crawling out and trying to touch his wounded arm. After the second escape attempt, our boi just seals the kid up in his floating egg-basinet, completely oblivious to the fact that the l’il guy was just trying to heal him.

When the Mandalorian gets back to the Razor Crest, he discovers to his horror that his ship has been dismantled by Jawas. Now, for most casual viewers this would be just another scene but, for me, a died–in-the-Tauntaun-wool Star Wars nerd, it was a genuine head-scratcher.

Waitaminit!” I thinks to meself. “What planet is this? Is this Tatooine?”

Previously-established Star Wars lore dictates that Jawas are exclusively native to the oft-profiled hunk of rock. In fact, the only reason why Jawas drive around in sandcrawlers is because they “inherited” these massive vehicles after a mining operation on Tatooine went bottom-up.  

Alas, I didn’t have much time to dwell on this ‘cuz the Mandalorian preceded to STRAIGHT-UP VAPORIZE three or four of the cloaked scavengers in cold blood. I gotta say, I really dig this guy’s penchant for random murder. Scenes like this must give the Disney content homogenization assurance team (C.H.A.T. for short) night terrors.

The Jawas fled into their sandcrawler and hightailed it, but the bounty hunter gave chase on foot. Episode director Rick Famuyiwa then proceeds to serve up one of the most fun action set-pieces I’ve seen in recent memory. The Mandalorian runs after the oversized quad-runner and, in a sequence that had me thinking about the old Super Star Wars Nintendo game, he starts scaling the side of the machine.

One of my biggest fears going into The Mandalorian was that the writers would be so obsessed about depicting the titular character as an indelible bad-ass that he’d never be shown failing at anything. Well, this episode certainly put those concerns to rest because my dude just gets shit on constantly here. After doggedly reaching the top of the ‘crawler, his determination is rewarded with a hail of ion blaster fire that send him hurtling back down to earth. It’s a wonderfully goofy scene that had me chuckling.

Now marooned, Los Mandos is forced to go back to his buddy Kuill, played to grumpy perfection by Nick Nolte. While the Ugnaught tries to convince his masked pal to parley with the Jawas for the stolen parts, we see Mini-Yoda quietly chasing after a nearby frog. Now, in a more mediocre show, the whole focus would be on the baby’s stupid antics, but here it’s almost a throwaway. The only time we focus on the kid is when he finally catches the critter, leading to an unexpected visual gag that, once again, had me in hysterics.

In the next scene we see the trio schlepping through a major rainstorm to get to the Jawas.

“Frogs? Mud? Rain?!? Okay, this has to be some other planet,” I muttered out loud.

After making a mental note to do some Veronica Mars-style innerweb research later on, I watched with great interest as the Mandalorian finally met face-to-face with his diminutive rivals. Except for one brief moment where our hot-headed protagonist nearly torched the Jawa leader with his flamethrower, things went reasonably well. The thieves agreed to give the parts back if the bounty hunter was willing to retrieve a mysterious egg for them.

They drop him off close to a cave which, as it turns out, is inhabited by what looks like the reek from Attack of the Clowns...er...Clones. The resulting fight between the beast and El Mando is a nasty, (literally) dirty, desperate affair that had me on the edge of my seat. The battle is conceptualized and realized so well, that I felt just as exhausted, mud-covered and resigned to my fate as the Mandalorian did during a low point in the confrontation. 

Side note: here’s a fun experiment you can do with anyone who still thinks the prequels are decent films. After you make them watch THE BATTLE OF THE EGG, go back and revisit the coliseum scene in Episode II where Obi-Wan, Anakin and Padme fight the reek, the acklay and the nexu. Viewed back to back, these two scenes are the perfect dichotomy between a tense, immersive action sequence versus a boring, un-engaging CGI cartoon that feels devoid of any real-world stakes.

This scene also makes me feel guilty for not mentioning composer Ludwig Göransson a lot earlier. The music he designed for this series is absolutely stellar; it’s memorable and complementary without being obnoxious or overwhelming. The use of wind instruments at the beginning of the episode really evokes those welcome Ennio Morricone vibes and the odd, dissonant tones heard during the reek battle serve to put the viewer audibly off-kilter.  

So, above and the beyond Wee Yoda’s not-entirely-unexpected intervention and the Jawa’s, shall we say, unconventional (yet practical) use for the retrieved egg, there’s just one other thing I wanted to point out. Just before the Mandalorian blasts off in his newly-repaired ship, Kuill utters the following ice-cold line:

“Good luck with the child. May it survive and bring you a handsome reward.”

Between this quote, as well as the Mandalorian’s penchant for sniping Jawas and murdering animals for their eggs, I couldn’t help but think that it’s a minor miracle that this show even exists. I’m pleasantly surprised and relieved that Disney green-lit a Star Wars show which doesn’t have boring non-entities like Poe, Rey and Finn at its core. In fact, we’re just two episodes in and it’s pretty clear that the central character, and his allies, inhabit a morally-grey realm where folks will do just about anything for their own personal gain.


It’s gotten to the point where I’m pretty sure the Mandalorian is gonna turn his adorable l’il bounty in, even though he’ll probably regret his actions immediately and seek to rectify his mistake. This alone makes The Mandalorian the edgiest, and most interesting, Star Wars property in, well, forever. 

P.S. Apparently the planet they're on is called Arvala-7. Zero stars, don't bother with this POS show. Kidding!  

Monday, October 7, 2019

Movie Review: "Friday the 13'th Part 2"




WARNING: Although this should go without saying, the following deep-dive retrospective / review of a nearly forty (!) year old movie contains spoilers! You have been warned!

Even though Friday the 13’th Part 2 is better crafted and more engaging than its predecessor, it also makes a few baffling miss-steps that prevents it from reaching the top tier of this minor pantheon.

For one, the movie is seriously hamstrung by a pre-credit sequence that’s supposed to take place two months after the events of the first film. In it, we see final girl Alice (Adrienne King) experiencing a “nightmare”, which is just a cheap way for director Steve Miner and writer Ron Kurz to recap the events of Part 1 for the audience.

Y’see, kids, back in THE DARK AGES (I.E. 1981), streaming video was still science fiction and home video was practically non-existent. As such, whenever you made a sequel, you couldn’t just assume that the audience had seen or could remember the events of the prior film. So, yes, even though it made sense back then to include a flashback / dream sequence in the sequel’s prologue, the ease with which modern audiences can find and watch the first flick kinda makes this whole preamble feel like wasted screen time.

It also doesn’t help that Adrienne King’s interpretation of a “bad dream” is comically thrashing around on her bed as if she’s auditioning for Exorcist III. At least the subsequent phone conversation she has with her mom is more understated than any of her overwrought line deliveries in the first film. Maybe she was depressed after laying eyes on the “Cabbage Patch Kid” ensemble that the wardrobe department had picked out for her or how shabbily the script was about to treat her character.  

At least the film-makers cared enough to scatter a few of Alice’s paintings around her apartment, which is a nice call back to the sketches she did in Part 1. Beyond these minor nods to continuity, I despise this pre-credit sequence with the fire of a million suns. And it’s not just the repetition and wasted time I’m salty about, it’s just how stupid and nonsensical the whole thing is.

So, as it turn out, this “nightmare” is just a preamble to Alice inexplicably discovering the decapitated noggin’ of Pamela Voorhees sitting next to the Sunny D in her fridge. At least I think it’s supposed to be Pamela, ‘cuz the prop looks less like actress Betsy Palmer and more like Jeff Daniels. Regardless, this little stunt distracts Alice long enough for her killer to ambush her from behind and bury an ice pick in her skull. And with that, the film finally segues into its ‘splody title sequence.

First off, I can’t overstate how disrespectful this is to the character of Alice. It brings to mind the arbitrary killing of Newt and Hicks in Alien 3 or dispatching the scattered survivors from A Nightmare on Elm Street Part 3 within the first few minutes of Part 4. Look, Alice survived her ordeal in the first film and, frankly, she deserves a reprieve. To knock her off like the first action n item on a shitty “things-to-do” list is really galling.   

Beyond this heinous transgression against the unwritten survivor girl code, there’s a lot more stupidity to unpack here. First off, the concept that Jason has somehow emerged from out of nowhere to kill Alice in an act of revenge is enough to drive any die-hard Friday fan completely batty. Any way you cut it (pun intended), this scarcely makes any sense, and that’s saying something when it comes to this series!

In order for this to work at all, we have to assume that the gross, rotten, zombie kid that popped out of the water at the end of Part 1 was just a figment of Alice’s fevered imagination. This leads us to conclude that Jason never drowned at all. I dunno, maybe he bumped his head on a log, washed up on shore with amnesia and then spent his formative years growing up in the woods until the sight of Alice lopping his mom’s head off brought his memories back.

Even if we accept that insane theory, the prologue would have us believe that Jason somehow managed to figure out where Alice lived, schlepped all the way there from Crystal Lake, crept into her apartment, placed his mom’s head in her fridge, then crept up and stabbed her. It’s phreakin’ ridiculous!

Alright, more warped Jason chronology and wacky theories later. We’ve got a lot of (camp)ground to cover here, folks.

Fast forward five years later and head counselor Paul Holt (John Furey) is looking to open a new summer camp on a different part of Crystal Lake. We’re then introduced to a whole new cast of fresh meat, er, camp counselor, including adorkable goofball Ted (Stuart Charno), sweet-but-blatantly-horny Vickie (Lauren-Marie Taylor), her object de lust, the hunky, wheel-chair-bound Mark (Tom McBride,) fuck buddies Sandra (Marta Kober) and Jeff (Bill Randolph), free spirit / Muffin mom Terry (Kirsten Baker) and her waaay-creepier-than-Jason stalker, Scott, played by Russell Todd.   

This is also where we meet the film’s MVP / secret weapon, Amy Steel. I’m just gonna come right out and say this now: Amy is, IMHO, the Jamie Lee Curtis / Heather Langencamp of the Friday the 13’th series. In fact, I’m going to be so bold as to say that her Ginny is my all-time favorite survivor girls in slasher history. Although the “sign of the times” script does her dirty occasionally (more on that later), Amy’s portrayal is so genuine, resourceful, intelligent and plucky that I’m willing to overlook all of these wrong-headed script decisions.  

After all the trainees show up, Paul proceeds to scare the fertilizer out of them by recounting the story of Jason, campfire-style, yo:

“I'm gonna give it to you straight about Jason; his body was never recovered from the lake after he drowned. And if you listen to the old-timers in town, they'll tell you he's still out there, some sort of demented creature, surviving in the wilderness, full grown by now. Stalking, stealing what he needs, living off wild animals and vegetation. Some folks claim they've even seen him, right in this area. The girl that survived that night at Camp Blood, that Friday The 13th, she claimed she saw him. She disappeared two months later... vanished. Blood was everywhere. No one knows what happened to her. Legend has it that Jason saw his mother beheaded that night. Then, he took his revenge, a revenge he continued to seek if anyone ever enters his wilderness again. And, by now, I guess you all know we're the first to return here. Five years, five long years he's been dormant...and he's hungry. Jason's out there, watching, always on the prowl for intruders. Ready to kill, ready to devour...thirsty for young blood!”

It’s a wonderfully creepy moment that really helps to establish Jason as a modern day (read: 80’s-era) urban legend. Pity the tension is completely deflated when wacky prankster Ted leaps into their midst, brandishing a spear and wearing a caveman outfit and a long-haired zombie mask. Having said that, I completely understand why director Steve Miner and writer Ron Kurz did this.

By making light of what he sees as a non-issue, Paul gives both his staff and the audience a false sense of security. I also appreciate that the script acknowledges the epic tragedy that happened in the first film. Setting Part 2 five years in the future and firmly establishing Crystal Lake as a “no go” zone really helps establish a modicum of realism.

Oh, and in case it isn’t blatantly obvious from his first millisecond on screen, Ted is this movie’s Ned from Part 1, in that he’s a walking Dad joke. For some reason, though, the character isn’t nearly as irritating. Credit for this goes to actor Stuart Charno, who’s disarming awkwardness and understated deliveries add to his appeal. Plus it really helps that the character isn’t just written as a professional asshole. That’s actually, Scott, but more on that fuckboi later.

Then the movie makes another baffling misstep: unceremoniously killing off Walt Gorney’s Crazy Ralph. Already established as a national treasure by his appearance in the first film, Ralph scarcely gets a chance to weird anyone out before he’s unceremoniously garroted by someone in a blue plaid shirt. Prime suspect #1: George Lucas!

Seriously, though, his demise is shockingly lame. Part 1 screenwriter Victor Miller was inspired to throw Ralph into the mix as an old-school harbinger of doom, a “soothsayer right out of Shakespeare.” So maybe director Steve Miner and screenwriter Ron Kurz thought Ralph’s presence was a bit too melodramatic or Scooby-Doo-ish to warrant more screen time. Personally, I love Gorney’s ultra-hammy deliveries and I really wish the series kept him around a little bit longer.

At the very least, Ralph’s death jacks up the threat level, which is then heightened when Sandra goads Jeff into sneaking off to Camp Blood, presumably because Packanack Lodge doesn’t have the cable hooked up yet. During their trek they come across a mutilated animal, which the audience instant assumes is Terry’s missing dog, Muffin. Moments later, they’re busted by Deputy Winslow (Jack Marks), who proceeds to lose his proverbial shit on them.

Jack’s aneurysm-level performance really drives home the point that Camp Crystal Lake is about as accessible as Chernobyl. Although it’s been five years since the events of the first film, it’s clear that the murders are still fresh in the minds of the locals. Inexorably, this sense of realism would start to ebb out of the series, eventually prompting viewers to wonder why anyone in their right mind would venture into this county let alone Crystal Lake itself!

Deputy Winslow is one hardcore motherfucker. After he spots what appears to be a Deliverance cosplayer running across the road, he immediately pulls over and gives chase. He ends up in a dodgy, ramshackle cabin which turns out to be the perfect spot for an ambush. Moments after Winslow’s horrified reaction foreshadows the film’s Gotterdammerung climax, the Deputy gets hammered on duty and the tension continues to rise. 

This is probably a good spot to mention the film’s authentic, evocative and immersive setting.  Even though Part 2 was shot in Connecticut instead of New Jersey, it still makes effective use of those distinctive East Coast North American forests. Whenever the actors are tramping through the woods, I can’t help but wonder if they know what poison ivy looks like. Future films in the series would eschew this approach for sunny Californian back-lots or tax breaks down south, but this sacrificed the kind of atmosphere that The Blair Witch Project exploited so successfully years later.

This brings me to Jason’s cabin, which is a humble, but no less effective, triumph of production design. It really does look like the hovel of some crazed hermit who’s been living in the woods for about a decade.  Add in the isolated and authentic environs of North Spectacle Pond in Kent, Connecticut, which stands in for the iconic Packanack Lodge, and you’ve got a horror movie setting that’s pretty much ideal.

With so many counselors running around, screenwriter Ron Kurz cleverly thins out the herd by shipping half of them off to the Casino Bar in “town.” It’s here that Amy Steele delivers her speculative soliloquy about Jason, which really solidifies the lore of the series. I also think it’s funny that Ted’s drunken obsession with finding an after-hours club is ultimately what spares him from Jason’s all-encompassing wrath.

We then return to camp and witness the wacky hijinx of Russell Todd’s Scott. Let’s face it: everyone knows a Scott, I.E. that dude who thinks he can act like an entitled douche-nozzle just because he’s impossibly good looking. This might sound like a thinly-veiled insult, but Todd is note-perfect: smarmy, arrogant, and brash, basically a poster boy for #metoo movement.

When Terry inexplicably refuses to leap into the sack with him after her smokes her in the ass with a slingshot rock, he acts contrite for a second, generating a blip of sympathy from the audience. But then the creep STEALS HER PHREAKIN’ CLOTHES when she decides to go swimming au naturel.

I guess I should address Kirsten Baker’s infamous skinny dipping scene. Now, I’m sure Kirsten was originally hired for the role of Terry because she was drop-dead gorgeous but she’s actually really good in the role, especially when she has to fend off Scott’s pervy advances. Watching this, I can’t help but wonder if Kirsten had to contend with an endless parade of real-life “Scott’s” during her film career.

Speaking as someone who thinks swimsuits are patently ridiculous, it makes perfect sense to me that Terry swims nekkid. Now, I’m also not gonna sit here and claim that the film-makers included this scene because they were crusading for body freedom and non-sexual nudity. Quite the opposite, in fact. Despite being regarded as an “era of excess”, the 80’s were a notoriously-prudish decade and nudity, specifically female nudity, was often included just for titillation.  

Even people who haven’t seen a single Friday the 13’th film knows that if you (A) got naked, (B) smoked weed or, perish forbid, (C) fucked someone in one of these movies, you pretty much just signed your death warrant. And even though Sean Cunningham and other creative luminaries in the series swear up and down that this wasn’t a deliberate choice, it sure feels that way. In retrospect, this makes the entire series feels laughably Puritanical.

Take Lauren-Marie Taylor as Vickie, for example. I love her because she’s a take-charge kinda gal who’s clearly got a case of the throbbing thigh sweats for hunky Tom McBride’s Mark. She just wants to get busy, how can you not sympathize with her? Unfortunately , this is a Friday the 13’th flick, so that means sex-positive folks like Vickie aren’t long for this world.

While I’m on the subject, I should also mention Tom McBride, who plays the charismatic and charmingly-clueless Mark. In a modern horror flick Mark would just be THAT GUY IN THE WHEELCHAIR but here we get a few lines about what happened to him and what his aspirations are. The exchange where he re-assures Vickie that everything below the equator works perfectly fine is oddly innocent and charming. When Jason takes him out, it’s truly one of the most shocking and disturbing kills in the entire series. 

Side note: all of the scenes featuring an unseen Jason stalking his victims feature some surprisingly-good camera work and set-ups from first time director Steve Miner. In fact, I’d go so far as to say that the upstart Miner consistently outdoes his mentor Sean Cunningham. Part 2 doesn’t just look better than Part 1, it’s also directed with a lot more urgency, verve and panache.

Another thing worth mentioning is the excellent cinematography by Peter Stein. Even when darkness falls and the torrential downpour starts, we have no problem seeing all of the glossy, rain-slicked mayhem with perfect clarity. Between the lived-in setting and the slick camerawork, everything looks cold and wet and, as a result, the viewer can’t help but feel a visual chill. In a lesser film you’d be struggling to see anything at all in the darkness.

When bodies start dropping, the pace of the film becomes relentless. I can only assume that Ron Kurz or Steve Miner (or both!) must have seen Mario Bava’s Bay of Blood at some point because they blatantly cribbed at least two kills from that seminal giallo splatterfest. This includes Mark’s aforementioned “machete to the mush” as well as the in-coitus shish-kebob of Jeff and Sandra. Having said that, both kills are well executed, pun not intended.

This brings me to the gore effects. Now, I know this is probably sacrilege, but I really like Carl Fullerton’s makeup work, and I’d even go so far as to say that it rivals Tom Savini’s efforts in the first film. Of course, we have to keep in mind that Fullerton probably had a lot more time and money to work with, so the comparisons are likely unfair.

About around this time we also get our first good look at Jason. First off, he’s wearing the latest in “hillbilly chic”, which is a set of denim overalls, the aforementioned blue plaid shirt and a burlap sack over his head. Although it can be argued that the killer in The Town That Dreaded Sundown or John Merrick in The Elephant Man wore it better, it’s still kind of creepy. It’s just not the iconic look that fans will soon come to love.

Sharp-eyed viewers will notice that Jason has a distinguishing feature on the thumb nail of his left hand which, by the way, we never ever, ever see again. In Part 2, Jason was actually portrayed by two actors: Steve Daskawisz and Warrington Gillette. Over the years, determining what actor is Jason in any given scene is a source of tremendous debate and controversy.

As the story goes, Warrington Gillette was hired based on the actor’s claim that he was comfortable doing stunts. Unfortunately, when they got on set, Gillette just couldn’t do the work, which forced stunt coordinator Cliff Cudney to hastily recruit dedicated stuntman Steve “Dash” Daskawisz a full week into shooting. By all accounts, Daskawisz was the killer in every scene where Jason is masked, which is to say, 99.9% of them.

I like how Jason’s modus operandi, such as his playful predilection for building traps, is already starting to come together. He also leaves the bloody sheets on the bed, knowing that Ginny and Paul will find them and get spooked but hides the bodies so as not to completely tip them off. He also knocks out the power, which becomes standard Jason procedure in many subsequent episodes.

I must admit; it’s a tad disappointing when Jason finally pops out and attacks Paul, because the head counselor actually looks like has a few inches on our boi. At this stage, Jason isn’t the hulking ogre that we see in future entries and their subsequent scrap is pretty sad. Even worse, since Part 2 was years before Aliens and T2, female characters were sadly relegated to the role of “panicked standby.” So, instead of Ginny helping a brother out, she just stands there and repeats Paul’s name over and over again. Yeeeesh.

Speaking of idiotic, there’s an even more egregious scene that sells poor Ginny “down the river”, so to speak. At one point our intrepid Final Girl is hiding under the bed when a big-ass rat happens by. This apparently scares her so badly that she PROJECTILE URINATES THROUGH HER CLOTHES. This begs the question: who in the almighty fuck though that was a good idea? Oh, right, a bunch of stupid guys who clearly don’t know that men are ten times more likely to ‘fraidy pee than women.  

Well, needless to say, Jason notices this conspicuous tsunami of urine jetting out from the foot of the bed and then doubles back to climbs up on a chair so Ginny can’t see his legs. As soon as she starts to crawl out from her hiding spot, Jason attempts to skewer her but, as luck would have it, the chair founders under the goon’s weight and he comically crashes to the floor.

Yo, Jay: you’d better hope that Michael Myers didn’t see that, dawg, or he’s gonna roast your ass!

Needless to say, scenes like this really diminish Jason as a scary figure. Earlier on, Ginny does an admirable job of ducking and hiding, culminating in a pretty funny defensive nut shot. Later, Jason continues with the pratfalls, hilariously recoiling away from Ginny’s chainsaw gambit, which causes him stumble backwards, trip and smoke his burlapped noggin on the back of a chair.

In the film-makers defense, this clumsy Jason makes a fair bit of sense. He hasn’t evolved to hulking ogre or undead juggernaut yet. If you think about it, he’s a thirty-seven-year-old Deliverance-style forest hermit who barely seen other people let alone fight them, so I’m willing to cut him some slack.

Now, I can hear you asking, “How the fux do you know how old Jason is at this point?!?” Well, he drowned at age ten in 1957, then the events of Friday the 13’th occurred in 1979, which is 22 years later and then Part 2 goes five years into the future, so  10 + 22 + 5 = 37.

Jesus, I need a hobby.  Anyway, back to the movie. 

In addition to the kooky timeline, the script makes some serious logical leaps in order to get Ginny out into the woods. Instead of searching the camp for car keys, she just runs out into the middle of nowhere and eventually stumbles across Jason‘s cabin. Assuming that there’s someone inside who can help her, she just kinda barges in.

Of course, this had to happen because we need the big reveal of Jason’s mom-shrine. It’s a legitimately disturbing scene, with a creepy Ed Gein-esque quality to it. With Pam’s desiccated head and rotting sweater acting as the centerpiece, hawk-eyed viewers will notice that the bodies of Deputy Winslow, Terry and, for the love of gawd, Alice are all present.

So, lemme get this straight, not only did Jason track down and kill Alice, he also lugged her dead body all the way back to his cabin without being seen. Um, oooookay.

Notwithstanding this idiocy, the scene does give Ginny a chance to apply her aforementioned child psychology skills to save her own skin. Donning Pamela’s sweater and impersonating her is a stroke of minor brilliance, and Amy Steel sells it to the hilt. Steve Miner also earns bonus points here for including a very welcome cameo by Betsy Palmer. It’s great to have her back at any capacity, and I’ve always thought that the Friday series didn’t use her nearly enough to explore her origin story via flashbacks.

Ginny’s plan might be clever, but I legitimately feel bad for Jason. Convinced that Ginny is his real mom, he unquestionably kneels down in front of her when it’s asked of him, setting up a moment of true betrayal. Maybe this is what finally put Jason completely over the edge and why he’s so pissed off at twenty-something’s-playing-teenagers for the rest of the series. 

Side note: seeing Jason’s lone, baleful eye staring out from behind that hood at what he thinks is his long-lost, beloved mother is fifty percent mournful and fifty percent creepy as all get-out.

At the last second, Jason catches a glimpse of his mom’s mushy melon on the altar and deflects Ginny’s killing blow. Then, Paul pops back up from out of nowhere, grabs Jason and their ensuing wrestling match causes the cabin to start collapsing down on top of them. This time Ginny has the presence of mind to pick up the machete and, in another slo-mo attack which hearkens back to the first film, she buries the fucking thing in Jason’s flanneled shoulder. This begs the question: Jason is still human at this stage...how the fuck did he possibly recover from this grievous wound by the start of the next movie?

Then, in a moment which likely had theater-goers yelling obscenities at the screen back in 1981, Ginny pauses to remove Jason‘s hood. Sure, it’s not what I would have done at that particular moment, but their horrified reaction to this off-screen sight nicely presages the insane finale. They finally decide to head back to the camp which, frankly, is what humble author’s first impulse would have been.

During all of this, Amy Steel’s terror and trauma is absolutely convincing, especially when it sounds as if Jason is somehow back and sniffing around outside the front door. In a twist, the visitor turns out to be Terry’s wayward  Shih Tzu, Muffin. Beyond providing a memorable false scare, Muffin’s re-appearance gets Steve Miner and company off the audience’s shit list for showing what looked like a mangled pupper earlier on. Secondly, it gives composer extraordinaire Harry Manfredini an opportunity to audibly sucker-punch the audience again, just like he did in the first film.

Throughout the entire film, Manfredini’s Bernard Herrmann-esque Psycho-tinged score has been elevating the terror level to nigh-impossible heights. But then Manfredini uses Muffin’s re-appearance as the perfect excuse to cue up the sappy “Hey, kids, look! The dog’s still alive! Everything’s gonna be alright!” suite to lull viewers into a fall sense of security.

So, when Cro-Magnon Jason inevitably jumps through the window and grabs Amy Steel, the audience shits a communal brick without any ado. Honestly, it’s a well-executed and well-earned scare that’s on-par with the finale of the first film. Carl Fullerton’s design for adult Jason is actually pretty horrifying, even if it doesn’t line up at all with his appearance in Part 3.

Then we get this bizarre denouement which has Friday fans scratching their heads to this day. The screen fades to white and the next thing we see is Ginny being packed into the back of an ambulance, with Paul nowhere to be seen.

Dafuq?

Some fans posit that everything that happened after the showdown in the shack was a nightmare, not unlike Jason popping out of the lake to attack Alice in the first flick. After Jason killed Paul in the shack and Ginny put the machete through the killer’s collarbone, she likely wandered back to the camp, passed out and was then discovered by the paramedics. This explains why Paul is mysteriously MIA and why the remains in the woods look like Muffin. It’s because it was Muffin...those sick fucks!

There’s only one missed opportunity and that’s the very final scene. When the camera slowly zooms in on the decapitated, desiccated head of Pamela Voorhees, it would have been fun if her eyes suddenly shot open and then it faded to credits. Not only would this have been a nice little jump scare, it would have reminded viewers of Pamela’s alpha and omega role in the franchise.

So, there you have it! Some might argue that Part 2 is nothing more than a remake of the first film, and, I suppose, a case could be made for this. In my opinion, aside for some meat-headed script decisions, the second flick is a lot leaner and meaner than its predecessor. It also continues to advance the lore of this series, setting up Part 3, which took Jason from generic killer to full-blown cultural icon.

But that’s a campfire tale for another time!

Friday the 13'th Part 2 scores three stars out of five with a tilt down for that stupid prologue crap!