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QUICK & DIRTY REVIEW:

FRIDAY THE 13TH~! (2009)

By Sean Carless

 

Movie: FRIDAY THE 13th

YEAR: 2009.
STARRING: Jared Padalecki, Danielle Panabaker, Amanda Reghetti, Derek Mears,Travis Van Winkle, Rip Van Winkle, Willa Ford.
RATED: R; For Violence, Tittays, angry retards.
 

WARNING: Sean Carless does not review movies like Roger Ebert. There are no literary refrences, witty analogies and clever insight. Instead, replaced therein is... well, you'll see. I'm the "people's" movie critic. Just not any people you've ever met. You'll thank yourself soon enough for that.

 

[THE FOLLOWING AS ALWAYS IS WRITTEN IN INSANE-STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS-RANTING. BE WARNED.]

 

You know, most retards and mongoloids are happy to just hang out at the bus station or the fucking food court all day being a pest to everyone, but not our friend Mr. Voorhees. No sir. With the exception of Life Goes On’s Corky and maybe Forrest Gump, never before has one retard so risen above his station and exceeded expectations of what is and isn't possible in the world of advanced learning disability.  It’s true. Jason craves more. Jason is not satisfied to wear his Dad’s pastel blue pants pulled up to his nipples and Velcro shoes until he’s 60.The same slime covered cover-alls? Maybe. But do those cover-alls have his name indelibly written in marker in the inside collar just in case he ever loses them? NO. And that's because Jason is his own retard.

 

You see, unlike his collective mongoloid brethren, our friend Jason has decided to give himself a purpose in life other than eating glue-sticks and moronically chatting to every single person that passes by while he stocks tin cans in the super-market. And sure, his “purpose” is savagely murdering teenagers in the name of revenge for mother’s decapitation and subsequent ruining of a perfectly good woolen powdered-blue cardigan turtleneck, but at least the motherfucker’s being productive—and had the dignity of not having his aged mother dressing him well into his thirties like other disabled. Seriously. Ever seen an impeccably dressed person with Down’s Syndrome? Or even one that picks out their own clothes at all? Of course not. Jason’s got a leg up there. Literally. He just hacked it off.

 

Let’s face it; any which way you slice it—with a machete or pick-axe—Jason Voorhees is a modern day retard success story. Our boy’s marching to the beat of his own drummer. Then killing him. Probably with said drums in a comically ridiculous fashion. But hey, that’s why I love him.

 

This takes us to FRIDAY THE 13th, a re-imagining of the 1980 original by the man (Marcus Nispel) who directed The Texas Chainsaw Massacre re-make that saw Jessica Biel running around in the tightest clothing imaginable, and  holy shit, that’s enough for me—Chainsaws? Killings?  I must have missed it! He totally had me at hello.

 

But then, I inquired further. I discovered that the film was produced by one MICHAEL BAY . Now, I will admit, when I heard Bay was attached to this product—and not in the literal way I’d normally hope; wrapped in chains floating at the bottom of the lake for eternity like Jason—I got worried. I mean, how could I not? I all of a sudden got the visual of the film’s protagonist being a grubby marine JUST TRYING TO GET HOME TO SEE HIS BABY GIRL FOR THE FIRST TIME~! Of course followed immediately by the big end-film payoff, where Jason chases the surviving campers in a tricked out muscle-car whose horn goes “ki-ki-ki, ma-ma-ma.”  BUT MY GOD THE EXPLOSIONS. They'll make you forget what you saw was well, pretty much what you saw in EVERY FUCKING BAY MOVIE. There may also be an oddly placed neurotic heavy-set black man involved in the plot nonsensically, just to lighten the mood! But man, his erratic behavior is HI-larious.

 

However, luckily for us, we were spared. Although, there's probably some out there who eat all their meals pureed for their own safety who'd have likely found said scenarios awesome. Almost as awesome as untrained miners somehow landing on a moving asteroid and yet somehow not being sucked deep into the unending void of space due to the trajectory!!!! ALMOST. But hey, how else are you going to save the Earth? Actual missiles and not cowboys with no astronaut training? Maybe.

 

So, yes, there were no Bay fingerprints here at all. None whatsoever. Hell, there was even nudity. Seriously! Actual titties! I mean, Michael Bay always hires the hottest women for his movies, but they never gear down. Never.  And I’m always left sitting there awkwardly holding my penis going ‘what the fuck!’. Then of course apologizing to the rest of the people in the Theater before the police are called. Come on, people! It’s dark! How much could you really see? I mean, sure, I’m standing in the aisle without pants, but that’s no excuse. Masturbation is just nature’s way of saying “Hey, here’s my penis. And this is what I’m doing with it.” How dare you impede on such a natural moment between man and penis and perhaps an oversized novelty popcorn bag.

 

So, this takes us to the movie at hand. A pretty fair take on the original series, only condensed and homogenized for today’s bug-light attention-spanned youth. Not that it needed it too badly, however. Because I must warn you, continuity is to Friday the 13th films as "laughs" and "not sucking" are to the Epic/Superhero/Disaster movies. It's true. I mean, take Friday the 13th Part 2 for example. Jason's rocking a pretty good Lo-Pan special as far as hair goes...then just 24 hours later in Friday the 13th Part 3, buddy's somehow found a Gillette and some gel, and gotten himself a pretty nifty haircut. (and put on 30 pounds).  I'd have hated to be that barber.

 

But hey, that’s not all! Hell, Friday's 2, 3 & 4 are only supposed to be literally days apart, so by the time Friday 4 is over, we're at like Monday the 16th. And that shit just sounds silly! I think! (Note to teenagers; you might want to put off camping until, I don’t know, the 20th? Just saying.).

 

Plus... in Friday the 13th Part 8, somehow a simple lake-cruise ends up in the fucking  Atlantic Ocean. That's some sweet nature-defying segue there. Almost as  sweet as being returned to childlike form after being melted by toxic waste...then somehow regaining full-adult decomposed form by the next film...in which you’re blown up...then puked into different bodies via miniature demons. (Don't ask.).

 

So, yes, continuity is forgiven. And forgotten. With drugs. Lot's of them.

The film opens up with a quick & dirty of the actual first film, where Pamela Voorhees annihilated a group of teenagers with the most unfortunate sweater imaginable. But not this time. Now she’s younger and infinitely more hittable. Or even hittable, since the original Mrs. Voorhees in 1980 was like a mixture between Mr. Rogers and dehydrated apple doll. In this version, Mrs. Voorhees is played by Start Trek Deep Space Nine's Nana Visitor. (her brother Grandad Housegust couldn't make it). Man. Captain Sisko is going to be so pissed.

 

Anyhoo, Mrs. V is all racked with some retroactive rage over her son drowning when teenaged camp counselors were ALL fucking instead of watching a lone mongoloid take a midnight dip. Ya, though choice there. Corky’d have hit the lake floor on my watch, too. But that said, what camp exists where everyone’s getting laid constantly? And holy shit, is 32 too old to be a counselor? ‘Cause come on. The highlight of my counselor career saw me turn over the same fat kid who kept capsizing in his fiberglass canoe, not getting the sweet stuff nightly. I feel gypped.

 

So, ya, Mrs. Voorhees is a little angry and murders everyone—but that shit goes south fast, because her last victim turns the table and decapitates her with a machete. You know how it is.

 

This of course is witnessed by her suddenly non-drowned living son, Jason, who emerges from the bushes seconds later to share a tender moment with Mom’s dome, and pick up the machete. GREAT TIMING, JAY.  You picked a pretty opportune time to suddenly show up. You know, A LOT of trouble could have maybe been avoided had you just revealed yourself to Mommy like one day before. “Ya, by the way Mom, I’m still alive. You don’t need to murder teenagers now. I’m like ok.”  I’m telling you.

 

Of course, this is assuming that Mrs. Voorhees was not aware that Jason was alive. Because if she was, holy shit, what a stickler! Being hired as her babysitter must have been a REAL PAIN. One night, you let Jason eat an extra pudding or stay up an extra 10 minutes, and bam! Suddenly you and all your friends are missing a few appendages. That's hardly worth the ten dollars. 15? Maybe then I'd be willing to lose an arm. I only need one anyway.

 

Oh, and here’s a question? How did one loan mongoloid boy carrying a severed head go undetected in the scene of a huge grisly murder? Especially since buddy's house is like maybe fifteen feet from the crime scene? God bless the crack detectives of Crystal Lake!

 

Anyway, this was supposed to be 1980, and we flash to “present day” and a new group of teenagers setting up camp in the middle of the woods. Which, leads me to the question, of ALL THE WOODS, why do teenagers keep camping here? How is that people have not clued in that maybe, just maybe, this is not a reasonable place to erect a tent? Two words, motherfuckers: GOOGLE MAPS. Save yourself a lot of grief.

 

 

That said, the teenagers in question are two hot chicks, two dudes, and one loser. And the big plot device in this moment is that there is a crop of cannabis in the area, just ripe for stealing and in turn selling! Seems like a solid plan. I wonder if Matthew McConaughey has a cottage up this way. It’d make sense. "Do you have a machete? It's be a lot coooooler if ya did."

 

From there, adult Jason is waiting to systematically annihilate them in short order; but not before we get our first nude scene! Hey, since when do 17 year old girls have breast implants? And where can I meet them?

 

The first victim is of course the one dude who doesn’t get laid. Isn’t that always the way. To me, these poor schmoes are the real victims of the franchise. Because, sure, their friends get killed, too, but at least they get to shuffle off this mortal coil with significantly emptier balls than what they started with. Nothing doing for these poor hapless bastards, though. They get to die for simply being nerdy, undersexed and generally ridiculous. Which would be a death sentence for all of my readers, AMIRITEORWHAT? High five! What?

 

The couple fucking in the tent gets Jason-ized next, with Implants McGee being grabbed in her sleeping bag and held over the fire by Jason. Huh. I’d have never pegged Jason to have the patience for S’mores. Her boyfriend of course then does what any boyfriend would do in that situation, he chivalrously runs away into the woods, but uh oh, BEAR-TRAP. I hate when that happens.

 

Meanwhile, the other couple, Whitney (the female protagonist) and her boyfriend hike the area and find Jason’s house. Hey, look, there’s his bed which says “Jason” on it. You know, just in case you can't figure out that the only lived-in cabin in the area just might belong to the asshole killing everyone like 50 feet away. Buddy’s also not the best house-keeper in the world, what can I say. But this shit still looks better than my Apt. after I first moved out, so kudos. Even if the heads I keep in my closet shrine are a little more presentable.

 

With that in mind, yes, Whitney finds Mrs. Voorhees severed head in a closet. Which I must say is holding reasonably well for 30 years of open-air decomposition. Mrs. Voorhees must have exfoliated A LOT. 

 

From there, Whitney then finds a locket, which she opens to reveal a woman’s face that her boyfriend tells her that she resembles. WARNING: MAJOR PLOT DEVICE. She then puts it on, ‘cause there ain’t no ubiquitous woolen sweater laying around. (‘Cause Lord, knows, when a teenage girl puts on my Mom’s sweaters, I’m like “holy shit, suddenly 17 year old hot Mom, is that you?”).

 

Jason then of course returns home, and does what we’ve all done when we have unwanted visitors (not Nana); he hides under the floor boards and attempts to impale them. That'll teach the Jehovah’s Witnesses that no means no!

 

In the ensuing chaos, the boyfriend of course eats the machete and gets dragged down by Jason and finished off.  RULE #1 OF FRIDAY MOVIES: Jason does not believe in monogamy! The person you come into Crystal Lake with in a relationship ain’t the dude you’re leaving with— if you leave at all! But no worries; you strangely get over that shit unnaturally fast in horror movies! “New love” has a way of making you forget all the horrors you’ve witnessed! You may even have time for light joking and cute banter immediately after you kill your antagonist! I don’t make the rules.

 

After parting with her boyfriend (umm, literally), Whitney runs back to camp, locket in-tow, where she now sees her friend locked in a bear trap, and her girlfriend on fire in a sleeping bag…which she doesn’t even bother to fully put out. Smokey’s gonna be pissed. (But alive, ‘cause Dude’s occupying the bear-trap!).

 

Bear-trap dude then begs to be freed from said trap from there, to which Whitney tries to oblige, but holy shit, here comes Jason Voorhees with a 4 second forty yard dash. He’s like Carl Lewis. Only white. And invincible. And ya. Jason then plunges the machete right into the guy’s head, and YES, RUBBERIZED HEAD MOMENT~! Sometimes the classics still work, damn it. It's up there for me with Rubber Travolta in Broken Arrow, which will forever be the Citizen kane of shitty unmoving rubber-death dolls.

 

This just leaves Whitney vs. Jason, who’s rockin’ a sweet cycloptic pillowcase over his face. This guy must’ve been a fucking bust at Halloween. The scene then ends before Whitney’s presumed demise. AMBIGUITY~!

 

Fast forward six weeks. New teenagers; three hotties, and four dudes.  Fourth dude obviously failed at math. Some friends. You always make sure there are equal parts chicks/dudes. That’s the first rule of being a dude. Sometimes even numbers gets you laid. Other times it’s lots and lot’s of alcohol. And if you’re me, it’s all of the above. 

 

As for our new batch of nubile teenagers, we have the vapid hotties, Bree & Chelsea; the sweet and demure girlfriend Jenna (Danielle Panabaker,) her asshole boyfriend, Trent , another mop-headed douchebag; a token black guy (Lawrence); and a toking Asian (Chewie!)-- what he lacks in sex appeal and presence he makes up for in weed and well-timed annoying comebacks! Oh, he's so dead.  FRIDAY RULE # 2: YOU CAN NEVER BE NERDY OR FUNNY AND EXPECT TO LIVE. If you're a dude and you survive, you must be misunderstood and dangerous~! And strangely carry a backpack everywhere.

 

Now, I could give you the rest of the plot blow by blow, but you know what? Fuck you. I paid 10 bucks, you didn’t. You’re getting the quick and dirty from here on in.

 

 

Enter Brooding, handsome stranger Clay Miller, (Jared Padalecki) who’s on the lookout for his still-missing sister Whitney. He runs into Jenna & Trent in a corner store whilst handing out pamphlets of said sister. Of course, there is an instant attraction between Jenna & Clay, because as mentioned, Trent is an asshole. Which leads to FRIDAY RULE # 3: If you're a douchebag, you will die...horribly... however, you'll likely get laid by a hotty first. As mentioned, Nerds get no such luck in movies. Because, you see, even in death, the odds are always stacked in the prick's favor. Ah, god bless horror movie cliches. The only place where a chick learns that her current beau is a cocksucker and guys like him are not worth dating only after nearly every one of her friends get annihilated first.

 

Clay carries on his quest from there, making his way to a dirtball mechanic, who is no help…to him…but luckily for Jason (after slashing his throat) he just happens to have a goalie mask lying around in the middle of a garage...in the middle of the woods. Makes sense. You never know when a full game might break out in the depths of the forest, necessitating the proper gear.

 

Anyway, long story short, the whole motley crew now head back to Trent’s cabin, but somehow Clay ends up knocking on the door there, too, looking for his sister. Trent gives him the gears again, so Jenna decides that she’ll go with him and help him on his quest, and not just because his plight is a WHOLE LOT MORE APPEALING ‘CAUSE MOTHERFUCKER’S ALL DREAMY AND SHIT. Seriously. I’d like to see what would have happened if Clay was morbidly obese and balding and had a hare-lip. “Ya, I know nothing’s changed; your sister is still missing and all, but come on, you’re just not hunky enough for me to help you aimlessly search for her.  Come back when you’re all  6'3" and hair and teeth and I’ll share your moped.”

 

While Jenna & Clay ride off on his motorcycle, moppy-headed douchebag and Chelsea head out to the lake. And it must be said. The 1980’s tributes continue, because thus far, almost every asshole in this movie is rocking the same unfortunate do’s they had during the first movies in the early 80’s. HAVE WE NOT LEARNED ANYTHING IN 30 YEARS? No one goes to the hairdresser’s and asks “Make me look like He-Man.” Jesus Christ.

 

Speaking of the AWESOME 1980's, NOTHING will ever touch Friday the 13th Part 3's sweet Disco remix.  Can't you just picture Jason cutting a rug~?!...then wrapping up a dismembered body in it...

 

Once at the lake, Chelsea and MHDB go out for some COMPLETELY REALISTIC TOPLESS WAKE-BOARDING. YES~! Titty sighting number two! Funny, I can never seem to get anyone to take their top off whenever I go boating. Maybe because I’ve only went with family members. Maybe. Still worth a shot, though.

 

Anyway, Jason is SO not a fan of extreme sports, so he shoots moppy-headed douchebag through the head with a bow and arrow from the shore, and Chelsea is left to swim her way back after wiping out minutes earlier (good thing she has own in-built floatation devices! I’m not going to say she’s packin' a little plastic upstairs, but all of a sudden my 1982 Skeletor figure is lookin’ pretty au natural.).

 

With that in mind, it must be said. WHY WOULD ANYONE HAVE EVER PICKED ON THIS DUDE AT CAMP? Jason's has skills, and he has access to more weed than anyone not named Cheech or Chong I’ve ever met. I would have totally hung with the guy in high school. I’d have just hid the silverware.

 

From there, Chelsea attempts to make her escape by swimming under the dock, but ultimately gets shish-kabobed through the skull by Jason’s machete. See, this is where I’d have cast, say Paris Hilton. If only for her to just shrug her shoulders and triumphantly state “missed me” when Jason penetrates her brain. But hey, that’s just me.

 

Meanwhile, Jenna & Clay are continuing their elusive sister search when they come across my favorite FRIDAY STAPLE: The crazy old coot!  Every horror movie usually has them. They’re the conscience of the story, with a foreboding message to leave now~! They’re always conspicuously filthy as well. THERE AIN’T TIME FOR BATHING WHEN THERE'S THEM THERE TRUTH TO SPREAD.

 

Anyhoo, said coot tells Clay that his sister’s not missing…she’s dead. Always the optimist.

 

This leads Clay & Jenna out to the woods again where they find Jason’s shack, and we learn that Whitney is in fact STILL ALIVE, secretly held captive in a fully lit, booby-trapped bunker with bells and whistles below the ground. So, what, Jason pays a fucking electric bill? Collecting on that has to be interesting.

 

God bless this franchise. Our aforementioned friend continuity has no-showed again.  Seriously. So, what, Jason can create elaborate traps, wire a bunker with electricity and set up a bell system to identify intruders, but he can’t fashion himself a mask out of anything other than a fucking pillowcase? And where exactly does a seven foot dude who’s been living in the woods by himself for 29 years even find coveralls and boots that fit his gigantic frame? Maybe Jay rolls into town and robs the Big & Tall & Undead on weekends? Who knows.

 

Anyway, Jenna and Clay spot Jason coming “home” carrying a series of dismembered bodies over his shoulder in sacks, so they hide under the cabin until they make their getaway. Jason then continues down into his aforementioned bunker where he responsibly disposes of the bodies to the horror of the chained-up Whitney. Man, it’s like his own version of recycling! I had no idea Jason was green! Imagine what he’d do to you if you had the audacity to not bundle your newspapers or wash out your tin cans! Seriously. Add a few beheadings to the mix, and I guarantee you EVERYONE starts recycling.

 

That said, whilst Jason is busy separating the corpses into their according blue bins, Whitney rummages through a gym bag that Jason left behind to discover that it belongs to Clay due to the endless photocopies of herself in there. She then finds a busted GPS, and uses the wire inside to try and escape, but she is stymied by Jason who only stops the inevitable hurtin’ when he notices Mommy’s locket around her neck. Man. For a dude who thinks this teenaged girl is Mom, he sure treats her pretty poorly. I just usually save Mom’s torture and leg-irons for the holidays, myself. You know, when it’s special.

 

It’s now time to weed through remaining douchebags! The clock is ticking. Back at the cabin, the remaining meat puppets all dance and get stoned. The Tokin’ Asian, Chewie, accidentally breaks Trent’s table and heads out to the shed—and not the Millennium Falcon (Mirrennium Farcon?)— to look for tools to repair it post haste, whilst Trent himself goes off to secretly fuck Bree, and the lone dude, Lawrence, attempts to jerk off to the SEARS catalogue (a moment I too can relate to…. much to chagrin of the ladies working at the in-store pickup area! What? Am I doing it wrong?).

 

Whilst in the shed, Chewie meets his unfortunate end when Jason commandeers a screwdriver and plunges it into Chewie’s throat—which on the bright side is at least a second hole to stick the bong hose. That said, in honor of his name, would it be too much to ask that his last-minute gurgle resemble a Wookiee call? I mean, really?

 

Anyway, back at the cabin, masturbating Lawrence (that’ll I call Hand-Solo in honor of his disposed friend in the shed) is confronted by a returning Jenna & Clay, who come to warn them about Jason. I’d have still finished myself. Nature’s already taken its course. You can’t bottle that shit now.

 

Meanwhile, upstairs, Bree rides Trent like a buckin’ bronco, and we get tit-shot number 3, and in my ever-so-humble opinion, they are spectacular. They get one thumb up, and one hand occupied, in my book—a book whose pages are all stuck together! You know because I’m jerking off! And destroying the subtlety of this joke just because I feel like it! Ya!

 

Jenna tries to bang on the door from there, but Trent is preoccupied with, well banging Bree. This guy is all kinds of subtle when it comes to lying to his own girlfriend about infidelity. “Fuck off!” is not the approach I’d use when confronted with being unfaithful, but hey, whatever works, right?

 

Anyway, with Chewie still missing, Lawrence gets antsy, and goes outside to look for him, much to the chagrin of Jenna & Clay. And I agree completely. Come on, bro. Use your head. You’re black. This is a horror movie. Unless your last name is umm, Cool J? this shit never works out for your race! By my count, the only black person to ever survive Jason was in Part 5, and that shit wasn’t even legit Jason! I’d call racism on this, but come on. There’s nothing remotely racist about a white dude hiding his face with a sheet whilst hunting black people in the middle of the night. Ahem.

 

Lawrence then ends up finding Chewie’s corpse, and runs back to the cabin as fast as he can—however, Jason is waiting and breaks out his own record breaking sprint and follow-up axe toss which of course hits our token black guy in the back with pinpoint accuracy (Let me axe you a question!). The message here? A dude who’s lived at camp for 30 fucking years is going to master the horse-shoes and ring toss, so you don’t have a chance. Just give up now.

 

At this point everyone is panicking in the cabin as Lawrence begs outside, axe-end still embedded in his back. Jason however humanely puts him down by picking him up and slamming him down on the ground so the end fully penetrates his body. He’s like a gentle angel of mercy!

 

Back inside, Trent goes upstairs and gets a gun, which, for whatever reason, Clay takes offense at. “A gun?” he asks incredulously, almost offended like it was the worst idea ever. Ya, ‘cause the whole “running aimlessly for your life through the woods unarmed” approach has been working out gangbusters so far.

 

Jason makes his way into the house from there, and Bree gets it upstairs in the bathroom when Jason rams her back-first into a pair of strategic antlers mounted on the wall. Oh god, that’s just horrible. I mean, Antlers on a bathroom wall? Who told them that looked good?

 

The one local police officer arrives next, armed with a flashlight with ZERO backup. Hey, let’s just pretend we haven’t established that 5 teenagers have already disappeared and the townsfolk pretty much know who’s responsible. What’s the worst that could happen today? Turns out the worst that could happen is our boy-in-blue getting stabbed through the eye by Jason. The only thing missing to hammer this scene home is his dying words of “I only had one more day to retirement!” Oh well.

 

Outside, Trent, Jenna & Clay all scramble feverishly looking for their car keys but nothing doing. You know, some people put their keys in their pockets. But hey, why do that, when you can just leave them in the ignition and hope for the best in the throws of ultimate tragedy? Obviously.

 

Anyway, after magnanimously declaring that Jenna should just leave Clay to die, Trent now  goes running off into the woods by himself, with Jason in pursuit.

After dropping his gun in a pond, Trent makes his way to the road where a Tow-truck ominously stops and waves him over. For a split second, I question if Jason is actually full-retard-savant and is actually driving this truck. But my answer comes when Trent is grabbed from behind and slammed on a tow-hook as the truck speeds off with him still attached. My first honest question flooding my mind from there was: does that count as a tow? Because if I was his family, I think I’d haggle the price given the circumstances. But hey, that’s just me.

 

Meanwhile, Clay & Jenna are now seen on the run as well; and what better place to seek shelter than the very same house belonging to the very same killer that you already fled in terror from just an hour earlier? ANYWHERE ELSE ON EARTH? Probably. But hey, what do I know? THIS TIME THINGS COULD BE DIFFERENT. They just won't be.

 

This of course allows Clay to *finally* discover the hidden tunnel and free his sister! They share a moment, but unfortunately, Friday’s RULE # 4 is in effect! There can only be one man and one woman allowed to battle Jason in the film’s finale, so good-bye, Jenna. Poor girl. She didn’t even break any horror rules! She was sweet, she never had sex, never showed her breasts, and was helpful! If only Whitney had fucked her boyfriend in the opening scene, Jenna could have lived. Oh well.

The final pursuit takes our reunited siblings to a car garage. And only in Friday movies will you find all sorts of blunt weapons of death in said garage like machetes and sickles. If it was say, my garage, Jason's only weapon of choice would be a giant pair of rubberized knee-high green fishing boots and perhaps a series of conveniently stacked cardboard boxes filled with magazines. THE HUMANITY.

 

Jason & Clay battle it out from there in this dimly lit garage, and in the ensuing madness the WOOD CHIPPER starts. This can’t end well.  With Jason seemingly having Clay’s number, it is now time for Whitney to play the Mommy factor. She pulls out the locket and calls to him, telling him that 'he can stop now'. She only tries this now? This shit could have been REAL handy six weeks ago, bitch!

 

Jason of course gets all goo-goo-eyed and distracted in the interim, buying Clay time to recover. I personally blame this distraction on her wet clingy top myself and not her persuasive method acting abilities, but hey, I'm no director!—well, unless you count the secret films I make from tree tops through windows! Shhhh. Our little secret! ;).

 

Anyway, with both of these distractions to Jason—since let's face it, the only head this dude gets is in a closet surrounded by candles—this allows Clay to grab a trusty BEAR TRAP, (because they are after all very applicable to automobile repair!) and plunge it into Jason’s back, before wrapping a chain around his neck, which then hangs him, before becoming snared in the wood-chipper which sucks Jason in—but not before Whitney stabs him in the chest, and utters our payoff line of “Say Hi to Mommy… in Hell!”

 

Jason then responds surprisingly, “Actually, Mommy was a devout follower of Christ, and by proxy was forgiven for her sins and now resides comfortably in paradise as per the very rules of the religion. Nice try, though.” It just sounded like indifferent silence. Trust me. I’ve got great ears.

 

The film then concludes with Clay & Whitney dumping his corpse off the pier. YES, the pier. “ HEY WHITNEY, NO ONE WILL EVER FIND THE BODY HERE JUST TWO FEET OUT FROM THE DOCK.”

 

And oh ya, Jason’s still alive and explodes through thee dock for the final scream. I was hoping for a Scooby-Doo ending myself; a rubber mask revealing the old woman from earlier. “And I’d have gotten away with it, too, if not for you meddling kids!” But you know, that might just be me.

 

So, what have we learned here today kids? I’ll tell you. DON’T MESS WITH JASON VOORHEES’ STASH. Think about it. All the shit started going down when buddy at the beginning fucked with Jason’s crop. What else is an inbred retard giant going to do in the middle of buttfuck nowhere? Those kids had it coming, clearly. It also explains to me how he survived drowning. Taking on a bowl helps you hold your breath like no one’s business. So, ya, there you go. Jay’s a big-time mover and these kids fucked up his whole grow operation. But maybe it’s for the best. Pot’s a small-time business. Jason needs to think bigger. This time next year: CAMP CRYSTAL METH~! Or maybe not.

 

That all said, I think this film gets my patented Seal Of Approval. It satisfied my quotient for everything I look for in a movie. Clean cut good looking people being annihilated? Check. Gratuitous nudity? Check. Retard savants not seen since Rain Man? (Gotta kill someone at K-Mart! K-Mart!). Double-check.  What more could you want? An actual explanation as to how Jason survived the lake, and just how a mongoloid hermit managed to come up with a deposit for his Hydro bill? Maybe.

 

Regardless, for me, this one gets two thumbs up. And maybe another appendage every time that Bree chick was on screen.

 

COMING SOON~! More FRIDAY THE 13TH RE-IMAGININGS! KIND OF!

I’m Sean.

 

Sean Carless is a man of many hats. And he wears those hats to cover an ever-increasing bald spot. Sean's various scribblings have been read at Live Audio Wrestling, 411 Mania, Wrestlecrap, Honky Tonk Man.com, The Toronto Star.com, and Lethal Wrestling. He has also cured AIDS.

 

Credit: Ernest Goes To Camp Crystal Lake created by...someone? Yup.

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TWF FLASHBACK

November 2006

SATIRE: DISCONTINUED WWE XMAS PRODUCTS!

by Sean Carless

With Christmas just around the corner, what better way to spend your few remaining dollars (left over after the seemingly infinite line-up of fucking pay-per-views ) then on the following "quality WWE merchandise!" After all, if they don't move this stuff, and fast, stockholders just might get time to figure out what "plummeting domestic buyrates" means!... and well, I don't think they need to tell you what that means! (Seriously. They're not telling you. Everything is fine! Ahem.).