Discussions involving horror movie franchise royalty will invariably delve into one of three domains: Elm Street, Haddonfield… or Crystal Lake. Let’s leave Michael Myers in the capable hands of fellow Yell! Magazine writer Jamie Lee, and a couple dozen white chocolate mocha cappuccinos with a double shot of espresso taken intravenously should keep ol’ Freddy Krueger at bay for the duration of this article. If I suddenly start speaking at a much higher volume than everybody else, blame the caffeine. If I start seeing things that aren’t really there, blame the wide assortment of mental instabilities currently renting room in my head and firing random volleys of gibberish bullets each addressed “to whom it may concern” into my subconscious. Anyway, let’s get this thing started before I get distracted by something shiny.
Crystal Lake. It’s the home of one Jason Voorhees, serial killer, mutant freak, occasional parasitic organism and part-time Popsicle time traveler. Not to be confused with the bodacious Debbie Sue Voorhees, co-star of Friday The 13th Part V. Speaking of which, here’s the boring part of her upper body.
You get the bottom half later on.
While the dead teenager genre was around long before the first Friday The 13th hit theaters, it’s hard to argue that the original 1980 stab-fest perfected the formula long before its subsequent, and absurdly numerous, sequels ran it into the ground. The series introduced one of the most widely recognized horror monsters in history, bared more naked breasts than your average old folks home after they run out of little red pills, came up with more inventive ways to maim someone than the Marquis de Sade, and grossed nearly half a billion worldwide.
So without further ado, here is Yell! Magazine’s Friday The 13th Retrospective, just in time for… a couple of weeks before Halloween. Just in time for pre-Halloween! Preween! Yeah, Preween. I’m totally trademarking that shit. Please say hello to the star of our show, Jason Voorhees! Take a big bow Jason, but watch out for that ax I left lying on the floor.
Friday The 13th (1980)
OR: Teenagers and promiscuous sex. What could possibly go wrong?
Friday The 13th was like a shot of adrenaline to the horror genre. While the ’70s featured more psychological fright films, Friday The 13th was a sign of things to come in the ’80s. Deep thinking was out, blood and guts were in.
I really should pick up that damn ax…
Directed by Sean S. Cunningham, F13 went on to gross an astounding $40 million, dwarfing its $500,000 budget by an insane amount. Reviews were, of course, universally unfavorable, a fate that would befall every movie in the series. Fans, however, were well served by the goods on display. Speaking of goods, the series’ trademark T&A was first introduced here and would go on to corrupt young minds for generations to come. My right hand thanks you, Friday The 13th. It’s considerably larger and veinier than my left hand thanks to your copious masturbatory fodder.
This movie is perhaps best remembered for its shocking twist. Best remembered might be incorrect, after all, Drew Barrymore, in Scream’s opening moments totally forgot that the killer in Friday The 13th was Jason’s mother, rather than the masked one. Friday The 13th holds up remarkably well a full 31 years after its release. The series was at its best, still scary and many entries away from degenerating into self-parody. I would still recommend it to up-and-coming horror lovers. Of note: Final Girl™ Adrienne King would return for a minor, yet shocking, cameo in the sequel.
BEST KILL: A pre-fame Kevin Bacon gets it in the neck! I guess Momma Voorhees wanted to pre-murder him for Footloose.
BEST BABE: Jeannine Taylor. Minor nudity only, but check out that ferocious derriere!
More tits and bloody killings after the jump…