Freddy vs. Jason Ronny Yu 2003

"We've Finally Found the Ultimate Weapon Against Ultimate Evil. And it's Cleavage."
You know, it doesn't say much when I sit down to write a review a film I saw a few mere weeks ago and already I can't remember more than 5 minutes of it. Well, it could say that I was sneaking 40s into the theatre. Again. But in this case, no -- it just says that the film was so dull that it's already been replaced on my poor brain cells by more envigorating, exciting material. Like the words to the Pina Colada Song, perhaps. Or the ingredients in my shampoo.

Freddy vs. Jason, the cash cow of not one but TWO played-out and cheapened horror franchises which are resurrected solely to line the pockets and cocaine coffers of fat white men in Los Angeles, starts out fairly promisingly. There is a nice opening montage of "greatest hits" from the previous (well-made) films. Then Freddy starts thinking out loud (lest the audience not catch that he's up to something -- perhaps he's retired in his old, hell-banished age and uses his blades to make butter sculptures? No. Too easy.), and lets us in on his plan to use Jason to fuck with the Elm Street kids so he can come back in their new nightmares.

Okay - I can deal with that. Now introducing the new batch of do-me's: eh. Why even bother? They're all disposable and not even remotely fun to watch. Jason, get to work. The first kid (I don't even remember if he has a name) gets it in a nicely gory bed-folding accident. Katharine Isabelle's body double earns her day rate in a gratuitous shower scene. And then ...

We sit through about 10 minutes of DIALOGUE. Okay, maybe the editors fell asleep. Or maybe WE fell asleep. Yeah -- maybe this is all a big trick, like in "Nightmare 4: The Dream Master", when Alice and the hot guy keep going through the same scene over and over without knowing it because they're actually asleep. Erg. No such luck.

Okay, so something else irrelevant happens. Somebody's dad gets beheaded. I think. Damn -- is there something in this popcorn? I'm tired all of a sudden. Then Beyonce's Crutch gets her nose cut off, but it's just a dream. Damn. And then ...

DIALOGUE. About 12 minutes of it, if I remember correctly, but my memory might be slightly altered because at this point I was chewing on the tin foil from my Hershey bar, using the metallic reation with my fillings to keep me awake. There's a couple of kids on the set of "Disturbing Behavior", for some reason, and some sleep drug. And a news report. And an ex-boyfriend. Oh God somebody please get killed really soon before I --

Cut to the obligatory "rave" scene. I'm sorry, I have to take a minute here to address this. What the FUCK is up with all the lameass horror movies that have to throw in scenes about "raves"? Have any of these people even SEEN a rave? Has there even BEEN a real rave in the past 10 years? Handing out glowsticks to a bunch of WB extras and dropping them in a cornfield with library techno music is NOT a rave. Or if that IS what's passing for a rave these days, then I officially mourn the death of rave culture and suggest that we rename these pathetic gatherings something else so as to excuse real, honest-to-goodness raves of the past from being sullied by these cheap ripoffs. I suggest that from here on out we no longer call them "raves" -- let's call them "Lindas". And for Christ's sake -- at least find someone who can USE those glowsticks!

Anyway, the "Linda" scene snaps me out of my daze just in time to see Katharine Isabelle perform a pretty decent run-and-hide scene (go, Ginger!) from Freddy and get killed by Jason while being sexually assaulted by a kid covered in glowsticks. I honestly don't know which fate is worse. Could you really live with the shame of being groped by Glowstick Man? He could be the new Cenobite.

Anyway, after the Linda scene we have -- you guessed it, MORE DIALOGUE. I think at this point the characters each take turns explaining what has happened thus far in the film, in different regional accents, complete with a set of hands in the lower left-hand corner translating into ASL. There is a Win, Lose, or Draw-style scene in which they recap the first half of the film in stick figures. Vicki Lawrence nods approvingly, and drinks deeply from a flask. They build models out of newspaper and spit and invent a role-playing game and SOMEHOW WASTE ABOUT 20 MORE MINUTES BEFORE ANYTHING ELSE HAPPENS.

Anyway, in the end the Elm Street kids figure out what's going on and drag a drugged Jason to Camp Crystal Lake to faceoff with Freddy, who is vacationing there. Beyonce's Crutch gets it after a few minutes of truly pathetic insults -- the girl apparently never watched "Snaps!". Some other kid gets it and is granted an oddly somber death moment up against a tree. Monica Keena -- oh, did I mention her yet? That's because I forgot she was in the film, attached to the lead role, her Cleavage. It's nice Cleavage. Yes -- it dresses up so nicely in various sweater sets and frilly blouses. It delivers entire monologues while prone on a nurse's table or when sun-kissed and demure sitting near a window. Although it is technically a negative space, the Cleavage is the only positive force that we have against these evil brutes. The Cleavage also has a boyfriend, but I don't remember much about him.

Wait -- is Jason afraid of water??!! Then is Freddy afraid of fire??!! I've heard Michael Myers is afraid of Virginia Woolf. But no matter, things FINALLY get fun when Jason realizes that Freddy's been pulling his dick for the past 90 minutes and he gets revenge in a big, frothy, construction-site sponsored battle between the two titans that sadly only lasts about 7 seconds compared to the eternity of shitty dialogue we sat through to get to it. It's like crawling naked across a field of broken glass for a Bit-O-Honey. Jason wins the round, Freddy's still in the game, the Cleavage gets home safely, and Ronny Yu gets to put that new addition on his beach house. Amen. I need a coffee.

Rating (out of 5):