Friday the 13th . Weekly Alibi . 09-15-97

Friday the 13th

DIRECTED BY: Sean S. Cunningham

REVIEWED: 09-15-97

I think everybody knows that the entire Friday the 13th series is actually a large mountain of poo, but I find myself going back to watch 'em every so often just the same. The first one is probably the goriest, thanks to the nifty talents of makeup guy Tom Savini (Dawn of the Dead), and the fact that Siskel and Ebert had yet to begin their war on stalk-and-slash flicks, which in turn led to the MPAA cracking down on anything with less of a budget than the latest Schwarzenegger epic (an injustice that continues to this day). I don't think I'm ruining it for anybody if I spill the beans on the "plot." In the 1950s, a little retarded kid drowned due to the neglect of camp counselors who were busy doing the underpants polka. Two of the counselors were subsequently murdered, and the camp was closed down--remaining that way for years. Finally, a bunch of teen counselors (all in their 40s and 50s) gather to reopen "camp blood," much to the chagrin of the murderer. Before you can say "sucking chest wound," this new batch of teeny-bopper nitwits is being slaughtered in a variety of ways, and it's up to the only virgin to save the day.

There's not a whole lot to say about this movie, other than if you've ever wanted to see Kevin Bacon get an arrow shoved through his neck, then you've come to the right place. Anyway, things slip and slide to the bloody conclusion, we discover the "shocking" identity of the killer, and the stage is set for the 47-film killing spree of hockeymask-wearing teen-hater Jason Voorhees, who chopped his first chickie in (what else) ...

--Scott Phillips

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