The only thing more shameful than a “Friday the 13th” part 10 is Artsweek, which spent almost two hours of its Tuesday evening trashing “Jason X.” The following are highlights from 96 minutes of pain, spliced with information essential to properly deride this film. Starring Ms. James, DJ Fatkid and yours truly.
The lovely college students help retrieve frozen Jason (Kane Hodder) from the uninhabited Earth circa 2455 and transport him back to their spaceship.
D2: “I’m so happy they have tits and ass in the future.”
Fatkid: “At least it’s lifting, pseudo-futuristic chain mail.”
Indeed, the only thing more predictable in a franchise product like Jason would be the number of chicken McNuggets in a six-piece value meal. Assuming Jason was such a value meal, the pieces would consist of gore, boobies, asses, banter and special effects. Unforgivably, the director, Jim Isaac – cheap bastard – forgot the sixth nugget: close-ups of the T & A.
Some other things which exist in 2455, according to “Jason X”:
-VR video games
– an †ber-Jason who looks like Super-Shredder and is resistant to the rigors of space.
Jason grabs the gorgeous screaming bimbo by the nape of her neck, and dunks her head in a sink of liquid nitrogen. Cut to the view from the bottom of the sink: The gorgeous bimbo screams as her face flash-freezes. Then Jason pulls the ice-head out of the trough and slams it into the wall. The face shatters like a red chunky ice cube, and Jason waves the head-stump at the camera.
D2: “Oooh! That was money!”
James: “Yeah, that was good.”
D2: “I like creativity. All this bashing and slashing – it’s been done.”
The moment was superb. Unfortunately, “Jason X” blows its gore-load on this first futurist kill. Everything else is an homage to less desensitized times when it was scary to see a corpse turning slowly down the grooves of a massive screw.
The black Marine gets stabbed once by Jason, and then tells him he will have to try harder than that. Jason proceeds to impale the Marine a second time.
James: “That oughtta do it.”
Marine in movie: “That oughtta do it.”
Fatkid: “Wow, I’m really impressed.”
D2: “Is she calling out the lines?”
Yes, James appears to have a psychic ability to predict the wretched script of Todd Farmer – “Jason X’s” screenwriter, who feebly attempts to inject humor into the mutilation of his characterless cast. Most of them don’t have names so much as clever catch-lines when they die. Case in point: the sassy-cute college girl who becomes mincemeat when she gets sucked into space through a small grate – “This sucks on so many levels!”
The ship’s engineer, a stout, fat man, ambles into the frame.
D2: “How did Ron Jeremy make it into 2455?”
DJ Fatkid: “Cryogenic storage, man.”
James: “Wow, it’s Jason Triple X.”
D2: “There hasn’t been nearly enough titties in this movie.”
James: “I’m bored. These people are so dumb; I enjoy watching them die.”
D2: “Kill ’em all, Jason. Exact vengeance.”
The Minneapolis Star Tribune’s Colin Covert and Jeff Strickler rated “Jason X” three and a half stars out of four, giving the world yet another reason to stay out of Minnesota. Covert and Strickler called it “hip,” “satirical” and a “tongue-in-cheek-science fiction spook show.” It is none of these adjectives, but they can be correctly rearranged to make words like “worthless,” “crap” and “a root canal is more pleasurable.”
Upon the realization that the nanobots are going to rebuild Jason using metal and stuff:
James: “Oh no, for the love of god, die already.”
D2: “Are they going to accidentally regenerate his ass.”
James: [Sigh] “Yeah. How long can you possibly stretch out no plot?”
Ninety-six minutes, apparently. (That’s 138,240 frames of characterless, plotless, rat-drivel.)
The VR video game distracts Uber-Jason by creating a VR version of the original “Friday the 13th” Camp Crystal Lake. In a rage, he begins swinging sleeping bags full of naked camp counselors into big trees.
D2: “How did they know how to render the summer camp?”
James: “There’s no explanation.”
D2: “This is a very buddhistic movie. You just have to stop asking questions and accept it.”
James: “That was definitely the best part of the whole movie.”
One must suspend rationality to understand this film: Not only does Jason have Wolverine-style tissue regeneration, but characters switch clothes in the middle of scenes. Sometimes self-effacing – though mostly stupid – the hackneyed action feels like a mock “Friday the 13th” episode of “The Simpsons.”
D2: “Alright, two hours better spent than watching ‘Jason X?’ A proctology exam.”
James: “A pap smear.”
Fatkid: “I’d rather just watch real hockey.”
D2: “I think there’s playoffs on tonight.”
James: “My headache’s back.”
The hard-core Marine tackles Jason in space and full-nelsons the psycho while reentering the atmosphere of “Earth 2.” The Marine punks Jason in the back of the head as the two turn into meteorites – shooting stars – which two campers notice have fallen into the nearby lake.
“Let’s go check it out,” says one camper. Cut to the †ber-Jason mask floating to the bottom of the lake, insinuating that there are plans to inflict yet another installment on hapless audiences.
Fatkid: “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again … Jason in SPACE!”