Category 6: My Phobias: Not being able to breathe: drowning/suffocating/choking/being buried alive. (Is this an overshare? I promise I’m mostly normal.)
October 11: Friday the 13th. Rating: 5/5 (Originally 5/5). Original Comment: Sh sh sh ha ha ha. Enough said. Yeah, it has its flaws. Ignore them. Update: Out of respect for its impact on modern horror, I am morally opposed to lowering the rating. Far be it from me to criticize a film that launched a 12-movie franchise. Yet, that is exactly what I intend to do. To be fair, the movie is older than I am, but so much of it did not age well. There was a bizarre scene of racism — like, where exactly did the guy who looks eerily like Josh get the feather headdress? And why was there no diversity at all in the cast? All the guys’ shorts were just so short. There was a bandanna-ascot-wearing sleazy hippie who was sexually harassing his employees while shirtless. And a few questions remain unanswered. Why did the city worker drop Annie and all her summer camping gear ten miles outside of camp and expect her to walk? How does the surprisingly agile and sneaky old woman lift, carry, and pose the bodies of full-grown adults without help? Why does she feel compelled to explain her actions in a ten minute monologue, rather than just killing Alice right off? Why do most of her victims not fight back — she’s ancient. Break her hip and run away. Some gray-haired old biddy comes at me, I’d at least put up a struggle, or distract her with a prune-based fruit “bomb” and Lawrence Welk. “Grandma, trade me the machete for this steaming mug of hot water. I’m not tryna die out here.” The undisputed best scene of all, the one that really sells it, the money shot, is when Kevin Bacon bites it. Unfortunately, the Fornelli sleuth squad (our new nickname — tell the others) have puzzled it out and determined that the whole thing is physically impossible, much to our simultaneous disappointment and relief. This film fits the category of my phobias because there was a couple scenes devoted to people drowning or nearly drowning or, in one case, fake drowning to get mouth-to-mouth and, of course, the whole murderous rampage begins when camp counselors making out allowed a little boy to drown.