Harold, white trash shop owner, meat cleaver in the chest while poking around storeroom.
Edna, Harold’s shrewish wife, knitting needle to the back of the head as she hunts for her husband.
Fox, black biker chick, rake through the chest, left to die pinned to the wall.
Loco, white trash bike scum, rake through the gut, left bleeding in barn.
Vera, snooty Mexican bitch, spear gun to the eye, falls and dies in lake.
Andy, resident stud, machete to the groin as he walks on hands to get a beer after sex.
Debbie, Andy’s babe, knife up through her chest as she reads in a hammock.
Shelly, resident nerd/prankster, throat slashed, crumples in doorway.
Chuck, hippie pothead, pushed into fuse box and electrocuted to death.
Chili, Chuck’s stoner chick, meets hot end of a fireplace poker before being carried off.
Rick, resident well-coiffed hunk, head crushed and left in a heap.
Ali, third and final biker, presumed dead much earlier, comes back in final scene, loses arm and life to Jason’s machete.
A single session of intercourse! So much for the theory that the series was right-wing hostility towards promiscuity. At this point, the virgins are dying right along with the sluts.
Outside of the standard thunderstorm that ushers in the killing and the old coot who informs the kids of God’s wrath, there’s very little. Politics and subtext took a holiday for the third installment and it focused instead on pure, unadulterated killing. They don’t even try to tell a story this time, thank fuck.
Not a single memorable line. No puns, no cheesy sex jokes, not even a lame putdown. No exact figures were taken, but I’m guessing at least 80% of the script focused on incoherent, blood-curdling screams for help.
Signs of the Times:
Evidently, 1982 was a peak season for sweaters tied around shoulders. And I’m guessing the sight of a black biker with a chain around his neck was the height of menace during this time of Pac-Man fever. Also, the opening credit score is probably the last time we’d here rock and disco so obnoxiously fused. And yes, that stoner dude does look exactly like then-famous Tommy Chong.
What surprised you?
Jesus, more fucking flashbacks! This time, the last five minutes of Part 2 were this movie’s first five minutes. And to add to the self-importance, the movie went all 3-D and widescreen on us, as if people needed to have fruit, poles, yo-yos, and rubber snakes flying at them in a darkened theater. Oh, and why the hell did they repeat the exact same “ghoul from the lake” scene that ended Part 1? The matter is complicated further when the ghoul is an intact Mrs. Voorhees, yet we plainly remember her decapitated head resting comfortably in Jason’s abode.
Examples of superhuman strength:
Jason crushes Rick’s head with such force that an eyeball pops out. He also takes a shovel to the head, slams a machete between Andy’s legs with enough power to split the boy in two, throws a grown man through a window, and, after being stabbed in the leg, pulls out the knife as if it were a mere splinter, yet is briefly felled by a pile of books falling on his head. But fuck, man, I doubt anything tops his ability to keep chugging after a hanging. Maybe surviving an axe to the face.
Right before being stabbed between the tits, Debbie reads Fangoria magazine and opens right up to an article on Part 1’s effects master, Tom Savini. It’s the only sign that anyone involved has a sense of humor. Appropriately, blood soaks the page from above.
Bits & Pieces:
This marks the first appearance of Jason’s legendary hockey mask. And for the first time, a murder victim is the member of a minority group.