Wednesday 14 December 2022

Slumber Party Massacre III (Sally Mattison, 1990)

A group of highschool friends (Keely Christian, Brandi Burkett, Hope Marie Carlton, Maria Claire and Maria Ford) gather for a sleepover.


But someone is looking to screw up their plans - and they have the perfect tool for it.


The Slumber Party Massacre franchise has turned into one of my favourite horror franchises. 


Produced by b-movie power player Roger Corman, the films are unique for being written and directed exclusively by women.


Feminist writer Rita Mae Brown wrote the original script as a satire of the slasher formula, and that subversive undercurrent was sustained through the other installments of the original trilogy.


Following the colourful and imaginative Slumber Party Massacre II, the franchise’s third chapter is a bit of a reversion to the conceit of the original.


Despite coming out in 1990, the film resembles a slasher of a decade prior, as our cast of characters are beset by a mystery killer whose identity is revealed shortly before the final showdown.


While it lacks the tension of the original, and the style of the second, there is a pleasing level of simplicity to the story and basic functionality to the filmmaking which ensure the movie is never less than watchable.  


Like all of the films, while individual performances might come off a bit stiff, there is a shared chemistry and ease to the group dynamic amongst the cast that collectively overcomes specific issues.


The movie is flawed - some of the acting is bad, the suspense is lacking and the final showdown has a couple of weird pauses - but overall it is a fun viewing experience, and boasts some interesting elements to analyse.

 

One such aspect is the portrayal of sex.


The one sex scene in the film is a misdirect - as the characters get down, we get the familiar glimpses of female skin (which feels like the filmmakers ticking off a box for Corman). So routine.


In a twist, the man is unable to perform.


In a turn that probably reflects the benefit of having women behind the camera, the girl does not reject him and indicates that there are other ways to please her, re-centring the scene around female pleasure. 


It does not lead anywhere - it still leads to death for the participants - but it is a neat change that frankly humanises the characters AND sets up a contrast with the villain’s obsession with male virility.


Speaking of which, let’s move onto him.


The villain offers the series’s most grounded take on toxic masculinity thus far.


Ken (Brittain Frye) is motivated by a sense of rage over his lack of signifiers of machisimo - both sexually impotent and obsessed with an injury from his highschool sports career. He is also haunted by the ghost of his deceased uncle, who goads and teases him. 


I credit the filmmakers for their respect for the audience - these elements are conveyed as clues within the text, without flashbacks or a monologue. 


The film is bookended by a photograph showing Ken and his uncle embracing, a cryptic mystery which is left unstated: a sign of their closeness? Ken’s infantilization? Or something darker?


Despite his scheming, Ken is no supervillain - once his identity is exposed, he is presented as a ridiculous figure. He spends most of the climax half-blinded and constantly foiled by the girls.


At one point, he is knocked out and tied up. This is when the filmmakers take the viewer inside his warped headspace: over the blurred images of the girls, his uncle’s face looms toward the camera and mocks the flailing killer. Going back to the filmmakers’ sense of restraint, this is the only time Ken’s uncle is shown on-screen.


It adds a strain of emotional context to the cliche of the killer rallying for a final attack, while further separating Ken from the usual image of the invincible, inhuman slasher villain.


With the killer’s rage the result of impotence and a loss of physical prowess, the phallic symbolism of the drill is even more overt than in prior instalments. Ramming the point home, when he dies, Ken’s torso thrusts upward in a sexual motion as the drill is jammed into him over and over again.


It might be a bit obvious in its themes, but the biggest compliment I can give the movie is that it re-ignited my excitement in the series.


I’m keen to do a rewatch of the whole series, to see how they work as a piece, and how they play with their shared themes. 


I will be back with another review of the 2021 reboot…


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