Friday The 13th: Not Your Mother’s Serial Killer

The title logo made me laugh more than anything else in the movie: the “3-D” letters are so insistent and menacing, but seem more like they are going to announce an amazing sale on mattresses. Opening with the oldie-but-goodie cliché of two clean-cut 1950s teens, sneaking off to “do it,” but before they can, slice slice! The movie quickly moves on to show us our modern well-scrubbed horndogs, starting with Annie (Robbi Morgan), who walks around looking adorable and sassy until she hitches a ride with the wrong person (who we never see!).

She was on her way to Camp Crystal Lake, set to re-open, and join Ned (Mark Nelson), Jack (Kevin Bacon), Bill (Harry Crosby), Marcie (Jeannine Taylor), Brenda (Laurie Bartram), Alice (Adrienne King) and the camp’s owner, Steve Christy (Peter Brouwer) for a summer of swimming, singing, kids, and fun (and hopefully, some sneaky screwing). They chat; they swim; they bitch about having to cook their own meals; and then, inevitably, they get separated and carved up (or arrowed, or axe-to-the-faced) one by one. Scream and scream again!

I was amazed at how tame the legendary killings actually were. They’re kind of cozy. You can see worse on network TV (I’m looking at you, X-Files “fat vampire” episode) any night of the week these days. The shocks are skillfully telegraphed (with music cues and camera angles, and/or exposed panties) in such a way that you can’t miss them; you get plenty of time to anticipate what’s going to happen. The deaths themselves are only semi-inventive at first, with a couple of throat-slittings, but eventually things get fun.

Vietnam veteran Tom Savini’s incredibly skillful effects feature very realistic-looking blood, even if its source only sometimes makes sense. Savini is a more of master of skin and its traumas, going from this movie to sicker shit like Dario Argento’s Trauma, From Dusk Till Dawn, and Night of the Living Dead.

The only genuinely scary part of the movie, for me, was Mrs. Voorhees, played ably by Betsy Palmer and her terrifying face. Especially the teeth! No, especially the hair. Mrs. Voorhees is effectively nightmarish. The actress, Betsy Palmer, didn’t think much of her role, or the film, which is both too bad, and inevitable. It’s not a good movie, and it’s not a good role; it’s just that her face and affect are both all wrong. Uncanny. Spine-tingling. And she looks like she could kick your ass.

Betsy Palmer as Mrs. Voorhees

If I had to choose a movie to introduce a youngster to the magical world of scary movies, I think this one might be a great way to go. It’s relatively free of moral ambiguity, and there’s no time to bond with any character before he or she gets whacked. It is, however, pretty boring, and the kids with their Nintendos and their Ke$ha videos might have a hard time concentrating on it for long. If they can manage, though (have a nice conversation), the payoff demonstrates that good things come to those who wait.

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