There are two different types of horror movie geek. There are those whose requirements include exposed flesh, buckets of bodily fluids, unearthed crimson bathed organs, and a handful of idiotic dialogue. The other breed of gore hound wishes to find a message underneath the above listed requirements (save the bad dialogue). And since I consider myself one of the latter, I have no problem correcting anyone and everyone who is asking the question, "How much thought can there be in fueling a story of a merciless, machete wielding, teenager skewering, malformed sociopath who fell off the short bus?" -- Plenty. If a horror movie works, it works on a subconscious level. If it doesn't work, it is because the true art and message behind the film is not coming through. And unfortunately, the reason why this specific genre has received a bad wrap over the years is because of piles of cinematic carrion like this Friday the 13th pre-se-reboot-quel.
Iconic horror villains need motivation. They need a reason to disembowel, dismember, maim, and kill. Despite popular belief, they do not act on psychosis alone. If they do not carry out their duties with motivation, they add fuel to the horror-hating fire. The biggest problem with this latest Friday the 13th installment has to be it's villain's motivation (more accurately--a lack thereof). "Did Jason ever have motivation?", I hear a nasally squeak punch through from the back of the room, the section reserved for the everyday movie viewer. To which I respond -- Technically no. His mother did -- avenging the death of her son who drowned at the feet of horny, misdirected camp counselors. But when Jason came back for the sequels, his murderous drive slowly morphs from mommy issues to a territorial problem before dissipating completely (a common path taken by sequels). And since he has no motivation, it becomes easier to root for the dismemberment of one-dimensional, drunken, drug addled, sex craved teenagers and not question it. It's an inevitability that is accompanied by fake breasts and inane dialogue, and we have been fortunate enough to view it through the cracks of our nervous fingers.
Now that Friday the 13th has put me on the gore train without any message, I might as well enjoy myself, right? And so I note that Derek Mears says more with one eyeball than any other Jason before him, a chance to show a perfectly engineered pair of boobies is not wasted in death, and Jason's use of campers as bait really does make for a satisfying slaughter (an unfortunate slut is dangled over a campfire, trapped in her sleeping bag -- Oh the symbolism!).
There are life lessons hidden behind the masks and butcher knives of our favorite movie killers; they have a universal agenda. But even when the gold hearted virgin gets it in the end, where in lies the message? The good don't even stand a chance now? I understand the don't screw/ don't partake in recreational use of mind altering substances/ don't ignore a child in need morals, but damn, I can't even breathe now? According to Marcus Nispel and Michael Bay (die already!), as long as Jason's around, no one's safe. It kind of makes me wish they had killed him properly the first time.
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