With the franchise now on a one-way path to hell, that was precisely his next destination. Into the canal of banal he slid and, by the time Jason decided to take Manhattan, we were enjoying his exploits for all the wrong reasons. However, it was clear that the man behind the mask was entering ominous territory and it was only about to get worse for everyone’s favorite momma’s boy. Granted, the censors tore the heart right out of John Carl Buechler’s film and this robbed it of much of its game. In some ways, it is preferable for an entry to suck ass than do the bare minimum to keep the ship afloat but that is exactly what happened by the time Friday The 13th Part VII: The New Blood strolled onto the scene with its hands in its pockets. One of the worst atrocities a long-running series can commit is to become mediocre. The initial goal was to reach thirteen and it appeared on course to meet these projections until it all started turning dreadfully awry and Jason Voorhees was no longer considered such a safe pair of hands. A new Friday The 13th movie was becoming an annual event and, while takings were on a steady downward slide, profit was still a given. Next up was a crack at 3D and, while standards were starting to slip a little, this shameless gimmick paid off once again.

A year later, the inevitable sequel arrived, and performed well enough theatrically to keep the fires burning. Suddenly the dollar signs were flashing in the eyes of every independent horror filmmaker in the United States and, while they all attempted to get in while the going was good, Paramount Pictures held the monopoly and weren’t about to let the grass grow under their feet. $60m in box-office receipts attests to this and, for a film that cost less than 1% of that to produce, that’s not bad going. Other movies may have done it better but none can claim to have been in precisely the right place at precisely the right time. While claims that it started it all are somewhat inaccurate, there can be no denying that it opened the doors for these small independent movies to gain a slice of the most lucrative pie of all. However, while a fair share sank without trace, the cream came rising to the top and one such frothy delight was Sean S. Naturally, the quality fluctuated wildly from one to the next and there are few genres so littered with duds than slasher. Perhaps I am culpable of looking at them through rose-tinted spectacles, but I’ve never been more content during my four decade filmic pilgrimage than when America churned one of these babies out on pretty much a bi-weekly basis.

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