Friday the 13th: A New Beginning (Danny Steinmann, 1985)

Even though there are a total of three writers credited with penning the script for Friday the 13th: A New Beginning, don't expect much as far as character development goes. Realizing this halfway through the filming of the movie, actress Tiffany Helm decided that if the screenwriters of this piece of crap weren't go to give her any dialogue to flesh out her character, she was going to have to take matters into her own hands. However, since the writers, including director Danny Steinmann (Savage Streets), weren't going to let her improvise her dialogue, she would have to express herself through the power of dance, or, to be more accurate, new wave dance. Meaning, everything you need to know about Tiffany Helm's Violet, the resident new wave goddess/fashion icon at Pinehurst (a retreat for wayward teens and social misfits), can be found in the scene where she dances in her poster-adorned bedroom to "His Eyes" by Pseudo Echo. And when I say, "new wave dance," I'm not talking about Molly Ringwald in The Breakfast Club-style dancing. No, the moves Tiffany busts in this movie are the epitome of new wave. Moving her hands to the music in a jerky, robotic manner, Violet manages to convey more about her personality than any trite, lazily-written dialogue ever could. And it's a good thing she stepped up to plate when she did, as I was just about to give up on this chapter in the stalk and slash horror franchise. Oh, sure, the alluring Juliette Cummins (Slumber Party Massacre II) and the smokin' hot Rebecca Wood step up to the plate as well. But I owe a debt of gratitude to Tiffany Helm for, well, just being there for me during my hour and a half of need.

Some of you might be thinking to yourself: Hey, I thought you were done with the Friday the 13th franchise after the debacle that was Friday the 13th Part VIII: Jason Takes Manhattan? Well, like I said, you can thank Tiffany Helm for saving this chapter from being a complete disaster, but you can also blame her, too, as she's the reason I decided to give this flick a look-see in the first place.

You see, every once and awhile, while surfing the interweb, I would come across a picture (one that was obviously taken from a movie) that featured a young woman with crimped blonde hair (with black, Teri Nunn circa "Take My Breath Away" highlights) wearing goth-friendly eye makeup. Since the picture was never labeled and I couldn't ever be bothered to ask what the name of the movie was, the source remained a mystery to me. One day, all that changed, when someone labeled the pic simply, "a new beginning." And just like that, I was back in the watching Friday the 13th movies game.

That's right, just when I thought I was out (of the Friday the 13th racket), they, or, more specifically, Tiffany Helm, pulled me back in.

(Wow, what a fascinating story.) Don't mock, if you saw Tiffany's adorable mug staring at you, you, too would want to seek it out and then lavish it with an excessively large amount of praise. Okay, maybe the latter only applies to me, but the rest of you so-called normal people would definitely want to know more about Tiffany Helm in Friday the 13th: A New Beginning, which is actually the fifth chapter in the series (I think I failed to mention this tidbit earlier), after seeing her picture.

(Weren't you upset that Tiffany Helm didn't show her boobs?) Oh my God. I can't believe you just asked me that. Do I look like I'm 12 years-old? No, I wasn't upset. In fact, I'm glad Tiffany kept her clothes on, as there's nothing sexier than fully-dressed punky new wave chicks who wear greyish shirts that are always buttoned to the top and are rarely ever seen without their trusty Walkman.

Seriously. Setting the breakfast table: It's Walkman time, baby. Doing the laundry: Duh, I've got my Walkman on.

(Is it worth mentioning that Corey Fledman briefly appears in the opening scene?) Not really. (Whew! That's a relief.) All you need to know about Corey Fledman is that he grows up to be a troubled teen. His name is Tommy Jarvis (John Shepherd), and he apparently killed Jason Voorhees in an earlier film. Traumatized by the experience, Tommy is sent to Pinehurst, a, like I said, sort of halfway house for adolescent nutjobs (there has to be a more delicate way of putting that).

Greeted by Pam (Melanie Kinnaman), the assistant director of Pinehurst (look at you, paying attention and junk), the quiet and reserved Tommy is shown his room. There he meets the non-insane Reggie (Shavar Ross), the gregarious grandson of the one of the joint's employees.

We get our first glimpse of Tiffany Helm's Violet during an incident involving two of the home's residents, Tina (Debi Sue Voorhees) and Eddie (John Robert Dixon), who get in trouble for trespassing on the property belonging to Ethel (Carol Locatell), a loud-mouthed yokel who says "fuck" a lot. Crowding around to watch, Violet, who is standing next to Jake (Jerry Pavlon), looks unamused by all the commotion; listening to the latest new wave bands on her Walkman is all she cares about.

Later that day, or maybe it was the next day... You know what? Who gives a shit. This film certainly doesn't. How 'bout this: Soon afterward, Violet can be seen doing laundry with her slightly less new wave gal pal Robin (Juliette Cummins). As their putting clothes and linen on the line to dry, they're approached by Joey (Dominick Brascia), a tubby dolt with chocolate all over his face (and by "all over his face" I mean the corners of his mouth). Insisting on helping them, Joey eventually causes them to lose patience with him; Violet even tells Joey to "piss off" at one point.

Not getting anywhere with the girls, Joey decides to harass Vic (Mark Venturini), who's chopping wood nearby. Now, it's one thing to bug a couple of new wave chicks armed only with clothes pegs, it's another thing all-together to pester an axe-wielding troubled teen. While getting axed to death did seem a tad on the harsh side, I thought the ends totally justified the means. I know, that's a terrible thing to say, but you should have seen Joey, he was so fucking annoying.

It's after Joey is axed to death and Vic is carted off to jail that people start getting killed. Two leather-clad Jewish-Italian greaser types experiencing car trouble, one played by Corey Parker (Flying Blind), are the first to go. Then it's Billy (Bob DeSimmone), a cocaine enthusiast, and Lana (Rebecca Wood), a leggy waitress and probably one of the most attractive women to ever appear in one of these movies, who are the next to buy it. You might be thinking to yourself, what do these people have to do with Pinehurst? And the answer is simply, nothing. In order to increase the film's body count, random characters are added to the mix to inflate the kill count.

You know what the film needs? (More new wave chicks?) Well, duh. No, what it needs is water. (Wait, water?) Yeah, water. You can't have a Friday the 13th movie without water. And this one has no water whatsoever. Sure, it rains in the opening scene. But I'm talking about a body of water--you know, a lake, a river, something along those lines.

(Does the toilet in the cast iron shithouse Demon (Miguel A. Núñez Jr.) attempts to take a dump in count as a "body of water"?) Nah. I don't think the toilets in cast iron shithouses contain water. (Then where does the fecal matter go?) I think it just goes into a box of some kind. (Eww, gross.) Yeah, it would seem that Demon agrees with you. By the way, Demon is not some random character introduced solely to be murdered, he's Reggie's hip and happening brother.

You know what else this film needs? (Even more new wave chicks?) Well, duh squared. No, what it needs is Jason Voorhees. (Does Debi Sue Voorhees count?) She doesn't. But fans of large, natural breasts will love Debi Sue in this movie, as she, well, you know, shows her boobs. Anyway, the lack of Jason Voorhees in this flick is really troubling.

(If Jason isn't the one killing people, then who is?) Again, who gives a shit. No, what we need is more close ups of Violet and less of everything else. Actually, I could have used more shots of Juliette Cummins walking around in her blue robe. But, hey, that's just me.

(Is it time for Violet to dance to Pseudo Echo yet? 'Cause, to be honest, nothing else is working for me in this film.) Yep, she should be dancing up a storm any minute now. (Quick question: Are you sure Violet isn't a punk?) Um, I'm sure. How do I know? Well, would a punk have a A Flock of Seagulls poster on her wall? (A punk with an open mind might.) That's true. But trust me, Violet's aura oozes pure, unadulterated new wave. (Unadulterated, eh?) Unadulterated.

Woo-hoo! Look at Violet dance. Dance, Violet, dance! Dance your new wave ass off. Okay, I'm officially done with this movie.

Click: The Calendar Girl Killer (1990)

You've heard the expression: Don't judge a book by its cover, right? Well, in the case of Click: The Calendar Girl Killer, it's more like: Don't judge a movie by its screencaps. If you were, you would no doubt conclude that Click was the greatest film ever made. Let me tell you right off the bat, it's definitely not the greatest film ever made. In fact, it's barely a film. Oh, sure, it's got images that move and human actors can be heard reciting scripted dialogue every now and then. But make no mistake, it repeatedly teeters on the brink of non-existence. I know, you're thinking to yourself: How can a movie that has six different writers and two directors not exist? It's quite simple, really. You can't have so many disparate ideas floating around at one time and somehow expect the results to be coherent. I mean, six writers?!? It's a nonstarter. In a shocking twist, however, this film is the place to go to see what is hands down the best performance of Dona Speir's career. Yep, the same actress who stunk up the joint in so many Andy Sidaris films gives a rich and nuanced performance as a fashion model named Nancy Johnson. And get this, she looks better than ever. If you remember correctly, I thought Dona looked tired and slightly mannish in the Andy Sidaris films. Not here, though. In this film, directed by actor Ross Hagen and stuntman John Stewart, she looks fresh, feminine and fabulous.

I'll admit, though, I was, to not put it mildly, horrified when I found out Dona Speir was in this film. Appearing in the opening credits sequence, one that features bikini-clad models wielding various weapons for a photo shoot, Dona can be seen aiming a bow and arrow in a yellow bikini. When I saw her I was like: Noooo! Anyone but her. But, as the film progressed, I slowly began to realize that it was her character in the Andy Sidaris films that I disliked so much, not Dona Speir.

The Dona Speir who appears in this film, even though she's only in a handful of scenes, is quite different than the humour-challenged Special Agent Donna Hamilton from, let's say, Savage Beach. No, this Dona Speir sits like a lady, gets pushed into hot tubs, sports more than one facial expression, is spurned by her boyfriend (played by Andy Sidaris regular Michael J. Shane), drinks booze straight from the bottle and participates in two fashion photo shoots. In other words, things Donna Hamilton would never do.

It's true, I could sit here and gush about the new and improved Dona Speir all day long. But that doesn't change the fact that this movie still sucks some serious ass.

Did you know that you will have to wait an entire hour for someone to get killed? Yeah, bet you didn't know that. And this has nothing to do with some misguided bloodlust on my part. The fact that no one is killed for so long actually dragged the story to a complete halt. What I mean is, with no real threat, there's no real tension, and with no real tension, you haven't got yourself much of a thriller.

What did you expect? It was obvious right from the get-go that Ross Hagen and John Stewart have no idea how to make a horror movie.

When the so-called "calendar girl killer" does finally show up, I was so disinterested, that I actually nearly dozed off at one point. Which is rare for me, as I hardly ever fall asleep while watching movies. In fact, I don't think I have ever fallen asleep during a movie. So, kudos, Click: The Calendar Girl Killer, you caused me to nearly break my no sleeping during movies streak.

In fairness, after the bikini chicks wielding guns and knives photo shoot is over, we do get a quick origin story pertaining to why the little kid sitting on the floor in a flashback sequence became the calendar girl killer. Which is something. However, to have to wait a whole hour for someone to die is unacceptable. In fairness again, after the flashback origin story is over we do see a faceless man, one wearing lipstick and a nurse's uniform, stab a mirror in anger. Which, I have to say, is also something.

(Hold on, it sounds like you're starting to like this film.) No, I'm just pointing some of the things that didn't annoy me. (Nah, I know you, you're trying to somehow spin this into a positive review.) So what if I am? Is it a crime to like this movie? I mean, the photo shoots are pretty fucking amazing. (Pretty fucking amazing, eh? Can you hear yourself? You sound like a dumbass.) I don't care, this movie is staring to grow on me.

Does anyone know the name of the goth-metal all-girl band who play the patio party? I didn't think so. Anyway, Dona Speir's Nancy Johnson, who's dressed in all-white, and her date arrive at said patio party. Introduced to Alan (Troy Donahue), the assistant to a big shot photographer, it doesn't take long for Nancy to piss him off. Like I said, this version of Dona Speir doesn't take crap from anyone, as she puts this "assistant" in his place in record time.

Sitting alone by the hot tub, Nancy notices that her date is flirting with another woman. Due to faulty heels, the woman he's flirting with slips out of her shoes and knocks Nancy into the hot tub. In a strange twist, Dona's character seems angry that she was pushed into a hot tub. How is that strange, you ask? Well, in the Andy Sidaris films, Dona spends most of her time happily submerged in hot tubs. So, to see her upset to be in a hot tub was somewhat atypical.

Humiliated by the hot tub incident, Nancy allows Alan to comfort her. This leads to Nancy getting a private photo shoot with Jack Akerman (Ross Hagen), one of the most sought after photographers in the business. Starting off in a fur coat, the shoot gradually leads to Nancy taking off all her clothes to saxophone music. My favourite points of the shoot was when Dona Speir is wearing nothing but a gold lamé top and when Jack tells her to "burn my camera."

In the next scene, we see Jack cruising Chinatown for models. I guess he needed one more, cause the woman he picked in Chinatown can be seen in participating in an elaborate photo shoot involving guns.

If this is all beginning to sound a little like Eyes of Laura Mars, you're absolutely right, it is. Interviewing a model named Cindy (Keely Sims), Jack tells her his latest project is a calendar called "Deadly Weapons," and that he wants her to be a part of it. "Is there any nudity," she asks him reluctantly. To which he responds, "Only your legs." I dig this guy's style.

The plan is to make a calendar the world will never forget. And who wouldn't want to be a part of that? Shit! Here comes Johnny (Gregory Scott Cummins) right on time. (Who's Johnny?) Oh, you know, he's the boyfriend who disapproves that is his girlfriend is a model. (Ewww, he's one of those?) Yeah, and get this, he rides a motorbike. In other words, there's no way he'll understand Jack's work, which he basically dismisses as trashy pornography.

I don't think Johnny deserves a girlfriend like Cindy, especially one who wears an orange skirt with a white belt and a baggy jean jacket. I'm just saying.

The three minute long scene where Cindy poses for Jack wielding a chainsaw is actually better than the entirety of Hollywood Chainsaw Hookers. (Okay, now you're talking crazy.) You're right, that was crazy-talk. But still, the sight of Keely Sims with a chainsaw is quite the show-stopper.

Does anyone know what happened to Dona Speir's character? She disappears after the fur coat/gold lamé top photo shoot. Was she killed? Did she quit modeling? Land a role on All My Children? Where is she?

At any rate, Johnny follows Jack and Cindy to a super-secret photo shoot out in the sticks. This, of course, causes some friction between Johnny and Cindy, and not the fun kind. Actually, that's not entirely true; Johnny and Cindy do engage in some angry, split-second make up sex at one point. Friction or not, Johnny seems determined to ruin Cindy's modeling career. Realizing this, Jack decides to use Johnny's expertise when it comes to motorcycles to his advantage by asking to participate in the photo shoots. Yawn.

As Jack doing a private shoot with Cindy (one that includes a heavy metal wig and a shotgun), fellow models Rhonda (an uncredited Juliette Cummins) and Lisa (Susan Jennifer Sullivan) are fighting over Johnny by the pool. If the names of the actresses who play the other models sound familiar, that's because Juliette's in Slumber Party Massacre II and Susan's in Friday the 13th Part VII: The New Blood. In an out of left field plot development, Lisa pussyblocks Rhonda big time. That's right, just as Rhonda, utilizing her amazing legs, was about to seal the deal with Johnny, Lisa swoops in and bungles her chances. In other words, no cock for Rhonda.

Instead, Rhonda will have to contend with being mock raped by a couple of cavemen. (Huh?) The photo shoot Jack has planned for the day involves all sorts of violent acts. And one of them features Rhonda dressed as a cavegirl being violated by a couple of cavemen. Other motifs include: Big haired blonde with a pistol, Asian model with a sword, Lisa in a zebra-print leotard, a flamenco dancer, and a pirate.

The next day's photo shoot is even wilder, as it takes place outdoors and involves wrecked cars and large machine guns.

If you look carefully, you'll see Juliette Cummins sitting by the pool drinking a can of Coors beer at one point. So, you say? Well, the expression on her face during this particular sequence, one that involves a jealous boyfriend getting in a fight with a male model, pretty much sums up my attitude toward this film. Don't get me wrong, I'm totally down with the premise, it's just that the execution leaves little to be desired.

Warning: When the killing finally gets underway, there's a murder sequence that takes place in a bedroom that employs a strobe light for an extended period of time. You might want to shield your eyes or fast-forward past this scene as it could cause unwanted seizures,

Slumber Party Massacre II (Deborah Brock, 1987)

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