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slashfest
Up, close and personal with Mrs Voorhees
Up, close and personal with the Mrs Voorhees... 'mother of all
evils' from Friday the 13th.
Omar Khan attends a 'horror convention' and shares a spot with Betsy
Palmer the woman who single-handedly opened up a spill way of cinema
splatter with the unforgettable Friday films movies
By Omar
A Khan |
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It's
not every day that you get to meet a legend - the mother of all serial
killers. A movie maniac that dwarfs even the likes of Mrs. Bates and
who over the years (with her marauding son) has been responsible for
over 200 of the most spectacularly grisly deaths with the power to
add scores more to the body count.
My last couple of trips to Gotham City have been eventful in one way
or another with an especially memorable stay being the time when the
lights went out. Staying at a swank hotel that boasted design and
beauty as its star attractions and ending up reading by candlelight
with no air-conditioning was just a little bit miffing especially
after the painfully long 60 blocks plus trek back from Kim's Video
store. Kim's incidentally is always a first stop for any self respecting
collector of Horror, Cult and Sleaze and this trip in the summer of
2007 like all others also began with a pilgrimage to St. Marks Place
and the ever moth eaten and grungy Kim's who along with their Video
and Music delights also often boast the rudest security in the city
(a staggering accomplishment). Luckily this time there was no load
shedding.
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The
trip over the Atlantic was ostensibly to promote my own desi splatter
flick Zibahkhana but what had really got my own excitement up to seismic
levels was a horror convention we were slated to attend as part of
the promotion. To be part of Fangoria's Weekend of Horrors in itself
was enough to send me to my grave with a smile but to share a spot
on their program with Pamela Voorhees was the stuff of sheer goose
bumped nirvana.
As we approached this convention centre across the river in New Jersey,
waves of dread and excitement struck in equal measures at the sight
of the swarms of black robed horror geeks who had already started
to mass; some of them clearly taking their obsession for their favourite
horror films one step beyond. Among the star guests at this convention
and an act the Zibahkhana team was scheduled to follow was notorious
German hack Uwe Boll, a man whose clutch of Video Game inspired films
rank prominently on IMDB's list of worst films ever made (House of
the Dead, Alone in the Dark, BloodRayne and its sequels just some
of them). John Russo who had written George Romero's 1968 masterpiece
Night of the Living Dead was also present along with stars on the
make or then those cashing in on past glories and notoriety. For me
the star attraction was a sweet and sprightly 80 year old lady from
Chicago who had quite by accident acquired her own lofty position
in the annals of Horror Movie History. |
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After
summoning up the guts (no pun intended) to approach Mrs. Voorhees,
protection in the form of a peace offering was presented lest she
impale me with an arrow through the throat like she's did to poor
Kevin Bacon on his movie debut on a warm, still summer night at Camp
Crystal Lake. Or perhaps she would have bludgeoned me in the head
for bad Blanche impersonations like Marcie, another unfortunate camper
at doomed Crystal Lake. Pamela Voorhees after all is the woman who
single-handedly opened up a spillway of cinema splatter that still
continues nearly 30 years and over 10 sequels on. |
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The
night a long suffering cousin was dragged to the opening of the first
slasher sensation since John Carpenter's masterpiece Halloween is
one forever etched in memory. This new flick was a cheap indie pickup
for which Paramount Studios had been severely criticized and even
picketed. The film had Ronnie Reagan's Rabid Right and Maggie Thatchers's
Mary Whitehouse brigade breathing fire and movie critics Siskel and
Ebert started foaming at the mouth and suffering violent epileptic
seizures. In an unprecedented step they devoted an entire show attacking
slasher films and calling for their outright banishment. Yet this
most critically reviled film went on to become a horror legend that
absolutely refuses to die 30 years on. The date of that June night
back in 1980 and the film were both Friday the 13th. |
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She
sat there chatting animatedly with one of many admirers. In front
of her was a large table with stacklets of photographs that she would
sign for her adoring fans. The horror convention circuit provides
some extra pocket money and a little respect and adulation for fading
or faded horror stars though it's a two way street as these conventions
couldn't exist if it wasn't for their ability to pull together genre
mega-weights such as Betsy Palmer, the sweet old lady sitting in front
of me and other genre royalty such as Felicia Rose, Ellen Sandweiss,
Kane Hodder and Gunnar Hansen. Nobodies to most but true blue blood
for horror movie devotees. These characters owe as much to these conventions
as the conventions owe them.
This crazed, lifelong horror buff had brought along a dark brown pashmina
shawl from Pakistan to present Mrs. Voorhees and finally when enough
courage was mustered to attempt an approach while employing fluent
gibberish to explain what a joy it was to meet her in person having
spent a lifetime idolizing her. She grabbed the shawl with profuse
thanks and proceeded to drape it around her shoulders radiating charm
and warmth as well as a quite dazzling smile ("Why, I'm just
an old friend of the Christies!" THAT smile). She was dressed
in shades of beige and brown and her excitement at having this shawl
gifted to her from a Friday the 13th fanatic from Pakistan (some say
the Home of Fanaticism on earth) sent her into spasms of good cheer!
She demanded a selection from her photographs to sign but insisted
that at least one should show her, not as the maniacal Mrs. Voorhees
but from her prime in 1955 when she starred with Hollywood giants
Jack Lemmon, Henry Fonda and James Cagney in the comedy classic Mr.
Roberts. Clearly Mrs. Voorhees was once a head turning beauty before
turning in to a head-axing beast.
Betsy Palmer's claim to movie immortality came quite by chance. Struggling
but savvy filmmakers Steve Miner and Sean Cunningham, inspired by
the amazing success of Halloween and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre before
it felt they too could exploit the same youth oriented horror market
and they quickly devised a straight to the gut slasher flick borrowing
liberally from Mario Bava's earlier Euroslasher The Bay of Blood.
Miner, Cunningham and cohorts also managed to pull in the services
of a Vietnam vet who was now using the horrors he had witnessed in
war to create cinematic gore to dazzling effect. Tom Savini has since
gone on to earn the highest reputation and the fattest pay check in
Hollywood when it comes to gore and make up effects. Of the cast,
Kevin Bacon got his break and Bing Crosby's son Harry is also among
the victims.
The creators of Friday the 13th needed a middle aged woman for a key
part and Betsy Palmer who happened to live not too far from the intended
location seemed to be a decent choice. They had already been snubbed
by Estelle Parsons (Bonnie & Clyde) and were getting a little
flustered. Palmer had been a model turned starlet in the 50s and despite
Mr. Roberts and a few successes her career had tapered off by the
late 70s and she was now living in semi retirement in Connecticut
though once in a while would pick up some TV work.
When her agent got in touch with her for a cheap little horror movie
featuring a woman with an axe to grind she was stunned but pragmatism
had its way. "I'd just come back home to Connecticut from doing
a play and my Mercedes had broken down. I needed to buy a car and
so I was kind of desperate for any kind of work, but a horror film?
Anyway my agent sent the script over to me and I read it and I just
thought it was a total piece of shit, but I accepted anyway because
I needed to buy a new car." Moreover Betsy Palmer was convinced
that nobody would ever watch a film as terrible as this one, so she
signed on - the rest is cinema history.
The ten minutes or so that were spent in the company of this delightful
woman will forever be cherished as some of the finest memories of
all by a starry eyed horror buff. She was warm, generous, utterly
charming and very humorous, especially about her claim to fame as
the Mother of Jason! Even at 80, she was sprightly, perceptive and
quick witted and oh that smile. "Kill her Mommy, Kill her!"
someone shouted out loud in that distinctive mock baby voice during
a pause in her hour long talk and the entire convention went up in
splits including her. It was a moment to savour.
Any true fan of horror cinema has to have already watched both Friday
the 13th and Friday the 13th II at least a dozen times (Part II admittedly
is more than a little dodgy but prerequisite viewing none the less).
Also the new shameless remake that has luckily been delayed deserves
to be roundly vilified and shunned just like the recent Halloween
desecration by Rob Zombie.
Betsy Palmer has earned cinema immortality for about ten minutes of
screen time in total. Not too many can match her achievement. Most
struggle for entire careers yet still fail.
Friday the 13th and Friday the 13th II are available in Pakistan from
discerning pirates either individually or as part of an excellent
Box Set. Incidentally Felicia Rose achieved horror movie greatness
by playing the memorable role of Angela in Sleepaway Camp. Life has
never been the same for those who have watched this great film. Ellen
Sandweiss was immortalized as the hapless victim of a brutal forest
rape who then turns very, very bad in the first Evil Dead movie. Kane
Hodder's claim to fame is that he was the man behind the hockey mask
in all those increasingly dreadful Friday sequels, though he was dropped
from the last one (anybody notice?). Finally Gunnar Hansen will always
be Leatherface and for legions, first there was God, then there was
Leatherface. |
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