Welcome back, hapless campers! Hmm, I bet nobody’s ever made that joke before. Anyway, yes, I’m still doing this, much to my own befuddlement. It seems I have essentially committed to watching the same film eight times, for which I should probably go back on brain medication for. Still, I’m enjoying myself so far, with this second part of the Friday the 13 series being a slight step up from the first.
I think the fact that this one’s director, industry workhorse Steve Miner, is in charge. He seemed to be somewhat awake for most of the shooting. Saying that, there is a significant drop in energy around the halfway mark, where I’m guessing the crew started to get tired or drunk or both. Bless. Still, I was impressed with the way Miner’s camera would follow characters around in close-quarters, reminding me somewhat of John McTiernan’s style.
The film opens with a rather pointless showreel of events form the first film, which turns out to be redundant, given that later in the film we get a recap in the form of an effective camp fire story. So, basically, you can go ahead and skip a chapter to when the opening titles roll. There is a cute cat in that pre-credits sequence though, so that might be worth it. You know, for any fellow cat-lovers out there.
Gee, I’m scraping the barrel already.
But, yes, we pretty much get the same plot as the first film: a bunch of hormonal twentysomethings-playing-teenage camp counsellors get dispatched one-by-one by a generally-unseen assailant. This time, however, the counsellors are clad in comically tight and revealing uniforms, which I doubt the parents of the vacationing kids, should they ever actually turn up, would not approve of. We don’t have a summer camp culture in the UK, so all this provides a sort of anthropological interest for me. I guess we did have cheesy whole-family holiday camps for decades, but that’s now been replaced by oversees all-inclusive holiday forts, where the “dirty locals” are safely kept away.
I’m so proud of my country.
Sigh.
There are some better actors in Part 2, which really helps. It meant I actually cared, however vaguely, for these characters. You don’t realise how important that is until you don’t care. The lead, if you can call her that, played by spunky Amy Steel, you could at least tell apart form the other actors. Her natural charisma is sometimes let down by her wooden line delivery, but at least I was routing for her blonde sass. I said sass. She even has a nice scene where she tries to rationalise crimes of passion and diminished responsibility, which is refreshing in our terrifying modern culture of conservative outrage. She also uses her smarts at the end, before doing some stabbing, of course.
The end confused me a little, which I assume confuses everybody. They clearly had the footage for something more coherent, so why they didn’t use it, I cannot say. Oh well, they were so close.
The kills in this instalment are based more around the overall set-piece, rather than chucking blood everywhere. I can’t help but respect that. Think Brian De Palma, basically. Still, I do like a bit of splatter, when it’s done right. There were even a couple of moments that made me jump, unlike the last film. Perhaps that was due to me sobering up from a few days of drinking, so my fragile mind is closer to frightening-reality.
Some of the sexuality in the film is unintentionally amusing, especially the baffling decision by one character to go skinny-dipping alone at night. Don’t do that, people. Regardless of its absurdity, I found myself appropriately titillated, even though such scenes usually bore me. So they got one other thing right.
Well, I think that’s about it, folks. Surprisingly, I don’t have a great deal to say about a film that doesn’t have much to be say about. The quality is solid so far, but I fear the true schlock is creeping closer. I guess I’ll find out soon enough.
Do stay in touch, darlings.
Toodles!
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