June 15, 2009
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The death of American horror.
Judging from video director Marcus Nispel's exceptionally appalling 2009 remake Friday the 13th, Stateside horror audiences are extremely easy to please. Not only does this hollow, empty-headed redux have the distinction of being just as awful and unnecessary as Rob Zombie's fetid 2008 miscarriage Halloween, it's poised to permanently sour my opinion of mainstream American terror. In regards to the plot, it's dead on arrival: Annoying cliches -- including Shark's Danielle Panabaker and professional nobody Willa Ford -- vacation at a spiffy lake house near the remains of Crystal Lake, drink and squabble profusely, and fall prey to the iconic Jason Voorhees (Derek Mears) in a variety of different ways. This time around, Jason is a deformed marijuana cropper, not to mention a pretty good digger of elaborate underground tunnels complete with electric lighting and alarm systems. Outside of two interesting kills, there's nothing to see here, nothing to chew on. Once the thrill of seeing Jason strap on that old familiar hockey mask has vacated the building, you're basically left with a carbon copy of every Friday the 13th knock-off Lionsgate has released over the past ten years. Was I stupid for expecting more from a franchise that should been laid to rest decades ago? Perhaps. Maybe I'm no longer considered part of the demographic, especially since I'm not a fifteen year-old sociopath with mommy issues. A slap in the face to anyone who loves the genre as much as I do. At least Jason X was entertaining.
Recipe For Disaster: One Uninspired Script + Nispel's Dismal Direction + I'm Ashamed To Be A Horror Fan
Would You Believe: It took two people to write this movie? Are you kidding me?
I bet they're conjoined twins.
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