Friday the 13th 1.5/5 Starring Julianna Guill, Jared Padalecki ‘amp; Danielle Panabaker Directed by Marcus Nispel Rated R
Atitular, tarted-up remake of the 1980 cult classic, this year’s ‘Friday the 13th’ strategically drops a day before Valentine’s ‘mdash; promising a proliferation of ‘Girls Gone Wild’ has-beens and bucket-seat boredom. Unwitting hilarity and general senselessness infest Marcus Nispel’s latest massacre, doling out stale gothic tropes from the horror handbook faster than a cracked-out blackjack dealer.
Hoping to stumble across the veritable holy grail of cannabis crops somewhere in the boondocks, five fashionable college students inadvertently trespass on the lawn of Jason Voorhees (Derek Mears), who, about 16 years ago, witnessed the brutal murder of his beloved mother. As a post-traumatic result (if you somehow missed the original), he’s been a serial killer ever since, mutilating every innocent biped that crosses his insatiable path.
Indeed, all but one of the five ‘mdash; a bootylicious Whitney Miller (Amanda Righetti) ‘mdash; fall prey to Jason’s desultory rage. Because as the suburbanite sister of Clay Miller (stunner Jared Padalecki, the flick’s hunky male lead and a youthful carbon copy of ‘Hercules’-infamous Kevin Sorbo), she’s more than safe.
After hearing about Whitney’s sudden disappearance, brother Clay (sans the original’s Mystery Machine) tracks her through the creeper-ridden Camp Crystal Lake, unexpectedly encountering rich-kid Trent (Travis Van Winkle), the sneering leader of a gang of college co-eds (including two notably ethnic add-ons). Trent and co. proceed to swing around in beer-binging, pot-scarfing glory at his dad’s recently purchased vacation home; but unfortunately for these National Lampooners, it’s also the serial killer’s Friday night out.
Realizing they’ve tread on his turf uninvited, Jason’s sanguinary romp takes up much of the film’s 97 minutes. Taking clues from Nispel’s ‘Texas Chainsaw Massacre,’ the token minority characters (relegated to the unenviable and degrading roles of buffoon and scapegoat) are tellingly killed off first. When all’s said and done, only Clay and Whitney’s white asses survive to witness the film’s long-awaited end ‘mdash; though it may not be worth the $10 ticket, as it’s one of the goofiest, freakless finishes in recent horror history.
The new ‘Friday”s stark, moon-sharpened atmosphere would be a decent addition if Nispel hadn’t ruined every potential scare by resorting to worn-out tactics, learning the hard way that banging hollow drums and swift corner turns doesn’t necessarily equate to instilling gut-wrenching terror. Not to mention that whenever Jason is chasing someone, the camera must be passed to a production assistant with hands that tremble with epileptic quivers. And while the cinematography ends up causing bona fide nausea (re: the catastrophic ‘Cloverfield’), chase scenes might have benefitted from the freakiness of an onscreen blur or two spinning furiously past.
Too bad this remake of a remake turns out to be nothing more than a repetitive gore-fest, in which Nispel seems more focused on killing off his cast with sadistic ingenuity than worrying about the unnecessary distractions of plot and character development. God forbid he try to provide some motivation for Jason’s killings ‘mdash; where would the fun be in that?