The rise (and fall) of Jason Voorhees - FRIDAY THE 13TH (1980) / FRIDAY THE 13TH PART 2 (1981)

Technology tended to arrive late in our household. In the early 1980’s, by some quirk of technological geography, some of my friends had an early form of home cable TV. They would often regale me with tantalisingly lurid descriptions of the juicy horror films they’d viewed. And then came the home video revolution where once again my appetite was stoked by my friends’ gruesome summaries. But amongst all this vivid video viscera there was one title which, above all the others, stood out as being the one I most wanted to watch: Friday the 13^th. 

I can still recall my pal Adrian detailing every murderous set piece with Grand Guignol glee. Crucially though, when describing the classic shock moment finale, he neglected to mention one aspect of the scene which actually made my first viewing of the film just that little bit more special...

As detailed in a previous posting (The Afternoon HE Came Home) the first horror film I saw in the cinema was Halloween 2, but the most significant experience of that wonderful year (1982) was the double bill of: Friday the 13^th & Friday the 13^th Part 2. The venue was my old beloved ABC Edgware Road of course, and my companion that day was Adrian (who hadn’t seen Part 2). We’d arrived far too early (probably due to my eagerness) and had to wait outside the cinema in the rain. I stared transfixed up at the poster which was posing the ominous question: “How many times can death strike in one night...Now double it.” As the rain pelted down forming puddles at our feet I made a pact with Adrian that we would sit as far apart in the cinema as possible so as not to dilute the terror on the screen with nervous whisperings and shared sniggering.  And so it was that I took my seat about five rows from the screen in studio 1 on that early afternoon at Edgware Road and waited for the lights to go out...

‘Camp Crystal Lake 1958’ read the title card as the camera reveals a lake, boathouse and a group of camp counsellors singing around the fire. Harry Manfredini’s “Ki ki ki, ma ma ma” echoed around the auditorium (even though the film was only recorded in mono it seemed to be whispering directly into my ears). An unseen prowler is moving amongst the cabins whilst the children sleep in their bunks...

I have no recollection whatsoever of the interval – that brief pause before the lights dimmed to reveal a child reciting a nursery rhyme whilst walking through the rain puddles on a suburban street. Summoned by a mother’s call, the child stomps their feet in disappointment before complying. The puddle briefly settles before rather more ominous footsteps appear on the sidewalk, moving in calculated measure toward a house where a young woman is racked with nightmares from her horrific night at Camp Blood...

Wait for it... (Adrienne King - 'Alice')

Those three hours were the most riveting, suspenseful, terrifying and exhilarating hours I’ve ever spent in a cinema auditorium. I emerged into the foyer visibly shaking with excitement. Jason’s sudden emergence from Crystal Lake - dragging sole survivor Alice (Adrienne King) from the canoe - was a magnificent jump-scare. Even though Adrian had outlined this moment to me previously I’d somehow envisioned the scene taking place at night; not in broad daylight; not with a falsely lulling watery theme playing on the soundtrack: and not with state troopers clearly visible on the shore calling to her. In today’s jaded times, the jump-scare denouement is a tired perfunctory cliché of horror cinema, an obligatory hook to leave the door open for franchising potential. But back in 1982, on that wet afternoon at the ABC Edgware Road, I was still a relatively fresh canvas upon which fright filmmakers could leave their mark with jumps and ‘stingers’. Director Sean S. Cunningham got me good that afternoon with that one, and after the intermission, Steve Miner (Part 2’s director), took over the scare-raising reins, consistently springing cloth-sacked Jason at me. By the time the (un-bagged) deformed monster burst through the window grabbing the resourceful Ginny (Amy Steel) I was so twitchy I must’ve resembled a marionette whose strings were being constantly plucked by an unseen puppeteer. 

Behind you! (Amy Steel- 'Ginny')


I went back and re-watched this particular double-bill twice more during its limited run. On the third outing I was sat in screen 2 or 3 – both of which featured sloped seating plans down toward the screen. As Alice’s canoe floated gently across the still reflective surface of Crystal Lake I settled  back in knowing anticipation of the jump moment approaching: unlike the lady several rows in front of me.  She stood up and edged herself out into the aisle – clearly satisfied the film was concluded and the end credits were imminent. Young Jason Voorhees suddenly lunged up out of the water and in perfect synchronicity the lady in the aisle lost her balance and slid down the steps gently colliding with the balcony wall. Happy days...