I feel a responsibility here to pay homage where homage is due – and, in this case, all of us here at Three Hands owe hockey-masked Jason Vorhees a round of applause. Jason’s passionate perseverance and undying spirit (and flesh) shine as an example to never – even in the face of eleven deaths and burials – let go of your dreams. It is because of Jason, (particularly his resourcefulness in part 3 when he swiped said mask from Shelly, that sniveling tub-o-lard in the wetsuit, after splitting him open in the barn), that we have the address to this website. We thank you, Jason Vorhees, for the slashing good times. Again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And, finally, again.
John Barber and I, in our personal correspondences, have brilliantly discussed in biolastrophilosopontificationacating detail the goodness of bad films. We have even admitted that, at times, the worst films offer the best viewings. Such is the case with the FRIDAY THE 13th franchise. These films do not work as parables of human nature or metaphors of social woes, nor do they probe the human condition or speak prophetically of our inevitable end. There is no secret undercurrent to delve into, no mysterious symbolism to solve. In fact, these really good bad films may function as cinematic black holes, vacuuming viewers’ intelligence and good common sense between really boss skin-shots and the next machete blow. If that’s the case, which I would not doubt that it is, I actually may be getting dumber each time I sit through one of these films. It’s like eating lettuce for a meal – zero nutritional value, pure negative energy. But, honestly, that’s sometimes what I’m looking for at the end of a long day: cheap lager instead of fine ale, popcorn instead of hummus, a mindless slasher fest instead of the next Sundance miracle.
By the way, just as some unrated bonus footage here: I’ve grown a wee bored with all these artsy independent numbers clogging up my video rental shelving space. Really, Mr. Sundancer, I know you’re sad. I know you’ve had bad luck with love or drugs or sucking your thumb. I know your family is jacked and your sex-life is slacked. I know you are searching for who you are up someone else’s skirt. I know you can gaze forlornly out the passenger window while really somber music plays and the shadows of the telephone poles pass on the side of the road flickering in grass that’s too green for real life. And I know that if I see one more cheap Wes Anderson knock-off, I’m going to personally gnaw at my own feet. Hear this: YOU ARE NOT WES ANDERSON!!!!!!!!! (Have I mentioned that I have an affinity for things that devour people.)
Though it’s a shallow goal, I have set myself to the task of watching all ten FRIDAY THE 13th films this Summer. I’m skipping FREDDY VS JASON, which I already endured with Jesse when we lived together in Kansas City, both of us agreeing there’s more titillating action in a single ice cream sandwich than in that sorry lump of wasted reel. Nevertheless, I am pleased to announce that as of last night, I am currently half way through the FRIDAY THE 13th franchise. And, so far, I have had a total blast.
I'll bring some actual reviews in the weeks to come. Since there's ten of these babies, I'll probably review them in pairs - starting with parts 5-6. Surely, the blogosphere will be chomping at the bits for each and every installment. I mean, surely.
To be continued…..