A slice and a cut above the rest

VIEW THIS PAGE The Friday the 13th films were never high art. Most of them, in fact, are awful. Driven by a senseless killing machine whose motives had long-since lapsed, they are basically vehicles for little more than gratuitous nudity, gory violence and maybe a few cheap scares.

The series reboot is much the same, but it’s easily the most effective — and scary — entrant in the franchise. The familiar elements are there — the flesh-baring teens, the rampant drug use, and yes, that hockey mask-wearing psycho named Jason — but director Marcus Nispel, who also helmed 2003’s brutally efficient Texas Chainsaw Massacre remake, delivers the goods while cutting back on the campiness that turned the franchise into a winking parody of itself. (He also lets Jason run this time, and it turns out a speedy Jason is far more menacing than one who could be outrun by a couch potato.)

By now, you know the drill: A group of teens go into the woods to have sex and smoke weed, and their plans are ruined by a goalie with a chip on his shoulder. They’re picked off one by one — usually in order of who disrobes or dopes up first — leading to a showdown between the most virtuous teens and Jason himself. You can set your watch by it.

But this Friday the 13th brings the tone back to that of an actual scary movie, and doesn’t soften Jason by offering him a sympathetic backstory. It swiftly boils down the action of the first three films (fun fact: Jason never donned his iconic hockey mask until the series’ third film) into a lean 97 minutes, and wraps up before overstaying its welcome.

Like its predecessors, no one will confuse Friday the 13th with Masterpiece Theatre. But for pure, bloody escapism, it’s a slice to the jugular. VIEW THIS PAGE