Friday the 13th Part III

Friday the 13th Part III ★★★★

And now we're entering a new dimension of terror but a step further out of that deep aura of Part 1, that first exhale from the juvenile abyss of slasher awakening now lingering so far out of frame.

A new crew have assembled to retreat into those same woods, shack up in a massive cabin, and await their inevitable deaths. Our final girl in this equation, Chris, is the catalyst of this set-up as she's returning to face her fears after experiencing a traumatic assault that happened there years ago: a violent pseudo-rape scene with a maskless Jason. Let the woods open these wounds for our entertainment... in 3D!

The new faces here are a suitable bunch of victims, however this is when the casting starts to lean into Squeaky Clean Teen territory.
As it's full of gorgeous women that all look kind of similar, the outlier of the crew then is the total enigma of anti-realism, Shelly, who is such an exaggerated loser that it gets nauseating. Why is he there? Oh right. Throat slitting practice.
This sequel also beckons to ask, What Is Punk? Who are these three forty-olds dressed in anonymous punk attire with no purpose in life other than getting even with tourists?

As this sequel moves towards broader strokes of horror with an emphasis on gags, that leads us to the film's saving grace: the 3D.
It's gimmicky as all hell, but it is the threadline back to part 1's juvenile exploration of slasher deviance. Every time it's utilized, it's like a child with a dead animal on a stick thrusting it into your gaze, revelling in the agony or absurdity of any given moment.
And with all that erupting violence, we see some truly iconic kills soak the screen, including one of my all time favourites: "the hand-stand kill". This is where part 3 truly shines, violence and death catapulted to such heights, all dripping in innovation and moral decay.

The climax? Pure Fucking Spectacle. An exquisite chase sequence leading to a grim act of justice followed by a parade of disturbing reveals.
Bravo, Part 3, you've snapped my neck by turning a ho-hum goofy sequel into a full-on barn-burner in that final stretch... when it really counts.

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