Angelina Jolie adopts kids more frequently than I update this thing. Oh well. Seeing how it’s Friday the 13th ‘n all, I’ve decided to recount a little story, starring myself, my father, and Palmer Video of Verona (RIP). Those of you readers privy to my (equally neglected) LiveJournal back in the day might’ve read this one before:
When I was a wee little one, I had an unhealthy obsession with all things horror. Christmas, with all its free toys was no match for Halloween. One year I decided to be Jason, and used this as an opportunity. I explained to my father that in order to “properly research” exactly what Jason wore when he was hacking up topless young women, I would have to rent one of his esteemed movies. Of course I knew what the fucker looked like; I had seen some of the Friday the 13th movies, edited and castrated for TV, when Channel 11 had their mini-marathons every time the date rolled around. This was to be my golden opportunity to see a Friday the 13th movie uncut, in all its bloody glory.
And so I smiled all the way to Palmer Video, happy that my father was a gullible dumb-ass. I stood and stared at the long line of VHS tapes; a whopping nine movies of this shit (at the time; this was ’95 or ’96). But which one to choose? Like a dumbfounded student filling in ‘C’ on his multiple choice, I subconsciously went with the middle one – Friday the 13th Part V: A New Beginning. I didn’t know it at the time, but out of nine movies known for their gratuitous nudity and general sleaziness, I managed to pick the sleaziest fucking one.
My father pulled a fast one on me though, and insisted on watching it with me. No more than 15 minutes into the movie, BAM! – titties. My dad made a mad dash for the VCR with the speed of a wildebeest. “Christ look at the time! I think we’ve seen enough – you get the idea of what Jason looks like!” Looking back, I consider it an interesting commentary on parental advisory, that he let me sit through three people getting violently killed, before a healthy set of knockers broke the camel’s back.
This past week brought a certain amount of closure to this story, as I finally got to view this movie start to finish, and discover what a piece of shit it really is. The movie tries to double as a murder mystery. Jason isn’t even the killer; it turns out to be some random ambulance driver who dresses up like Jason to take revenge, because his fat retarded son was axed to death by another retard (I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried). The movie’s about a bunch of retards/outcasts at some edgy correctional facility out in the woods (edgy because they let them run around and do whatever they want, derrr). The main character is supposed to be the young adult version of Corey Feldman’s character, who “killed” Jason at the end of the last one. Now he’s a mental case and keeps thinking Jason’s out to get him. This guy spends the whole movie shaking and tweaking out; he’s got the “I’M ABOUT TO BR8K!!” look down long before Linkin Park would come along.
Anyway the fake Jason kills one guy by sticking a flare in his mouth. I don’t even know what to say about that. Then the movie has one of those endings like, whew it was just a dream – wait no it’s not – wait maybe it’s a dream within a dream – no it’s real – or a hallucination? – no wait it’s a dream within reality within a real hallucination – wait who the fuck is that? – OMGWTF CREDITS!!!!
This movie did have one excellent moment though. This sleazeball is sitting in his car waiting for his waitress girlfriend to close shop so he can get some ass. The following dialogue ensues: “And the forecast is…cloudy in the mountains, sunny in the valley, and snow flurries…up my nose!!” And then he snorts a line of coke and gets his throat slit.
I had something else but forgot; anyway Happy Friday the 13th.