Friday the Thirteenth

Jason Voorhees returns, again, to slay teens at Camp Crystal Lake in the latest installment of the venerable Friday the 13th slasher film series. This film is not another sequel (which stopped at eleven, in case you’re counting), but instead a “reboot,” a re-introduction to the character. This makes sense, since most of the new film's unknown cast was in kindergarten when the original film screened in 1980, and by now Jason would be threatening teens with his walking cane instead of a machete.

Don’t be fooled by the promo for the film that states, “By the director of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre.” That would lead you to think that it was directed by Tobe Hooper, who directed The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. No, this film was helmed by Marcus Nispel, who directed the crappy remake of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre a few years ago. The ads should have said, “By the director of the crappy remake of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre,” though I can see why Paramount’s marketing department was not enthusiastic about the blurb.

There’s not much of a plot to speak of; masked killer stalks people in woods. The producers and director do get some credit for a halfhearted attempt at trying something new. For example, they added a few extra races to the pool of Jason fodder, with a black kid and an Asian kid. They also give a sly false-start to the film which sets the stage for the real action in the last hour.

Of course, logic is still left at the theater door. Though wearing a mask makes Jason scarier, it would also make him a far less efficient killer — especially, if, like Jason, your face and eyes are disfigured to begin with. It’s amazing he can see at all, much less hurl hatchets through the air, striking his terrified prey in near-darkness with deadly accuracy. If the teens were smart, all they’d have to do is stay in his obstructed peripheral vision. But then what fun would that be?

Ultimately, critiquing a slasher film is a bit of a fool’s errand. It is what it is: faceless, relentless killer murdering cardboard characters in gory ways for 90 minutes. It’s predictable and clichéd. All the scares are manufactured and the special effects are passable (though they can’t hold a candle to the eye-popping gore of My Bloody Valentine, 3-D). Either this sort of film is your cup of blood-drenched tea or it’s not. Friday the Thirteenth is far from a good film, but it succeeds by its own standards.