Even in a generally well-liked horror franchise like Slumber Party Massacre, there is still that one entry that fans do not rally around as much as others. And among the four films produced so far, Sally Mattison’s Slumber Party Massacre III is routinely slept on. However, this series’ third depiction of a sleepover gone terribly awry not only brings back the harshness of the original film, it also delivers an unusual perspective.
The first slasher trend had all but ended by 1990, but unseasonableness has never stopped a producer like Roger Corman. And as with the previous Slumber Party Massacre films, the third was directed and written by women, including a script by the late Catherine Cyran. This rushed, micro-budget film works from the same familiar prompt; a male assailant stalks and kills hapless, scantily clad women as they gather for what should have been a night of fun and play. As unimaginative as that sounds, Slumber Party Massacre III, like its foremothers, features substantial thematical material beneath the cheesy and threadbare exterior.
The 1982 Slumber film, directed and written by Amy Holden Jones, is innovative for its time for several reasons, but most notably the female characters cannot be easily categorized into neat boxes, such as the Good Girl, the Bad Girl, the Nerd, and so on. They are not defined by the usual preconceived stereotypes that take up space in classic slashers. Mattison and Cyran primarily follow Holden Jones’ lead, with no one, apart from the story’s own direct suppliers of sparse sexuality (Maria Ford, Lulu Wilson), being an unequivocal character type.
After two of the partygoers perform a random striptease for only their female peers — and then shame their male friends for crashing the party and catching an eyeful — the film attempts something its predecessors did not. There’s a whodunit component to Massacre III that, while never too complicated, makes this sequel behave more like traditional slashers. Earlier in the story the characters are creeped out by a guy dressed in all black (Yan Birch), who watched them play volleyball on the beach and then later followed them back to Jackie’s (Keely Christian) house so he could return a lost wallet. The Weirdo, along with Jackie’s nosy neighbor Morgan (Michael Harris), are, however, much too obvious to be the killer, so that leaves only one viable suspect.
One of the most fleshed-out and complicated characters in the Slumber series is without a doubt Ken Whitehouse (Brittain Frye). The blonde heartthrob, who Juliette (Wilson) met eyes with on the beach and subsequently invited over during the sleepover, is a spitting image for his obvious namesake, Barbie’s forever beau Ken. On paper Mr. Whitehouse looks appetizing; he is clean-cut, handsome and available. Of course it is when Ken finally arrives at the party that it becomes clear he and Juliette are not a good fit. There is a real darkness to Ken that no one could have suspected.
Everyone is still unaware of the killer’s presence, so Ken and Juliette sneaking away for carnal fun is allowed. Unfortunately, though, Ken is not up to the task, so to speak. His inability to sexually perform is where the film’s heavier side starts to show. After a somewhat unfulfilled tryst, Juliette plans on finishing the job with the handy vibrator she found in the bathroom. It is only appropriate (in slasher logic) that the tool integral to her personal satisfaction also ends up being a crucial part of her death. It might appear that the story is pulling out the always hoary “punish the promiscuous” trope, yet Juliette’s demise has nothing to do with her sexuality. On the contrary, her murder is due to the killer’s own sexual difficulties. To be more specific: his own glaring impotence.
In Holden Jones’ The Slumber Party Massacre, the killer is metaphorically castrated when the top of his power drill is humorously chopped off by one of his would-be victims. In Mattison’s film, the killer is rendered ineffectual long before breaking up the sleepover with his own phallic weapon. In fact, the antagonist, who viewers have likely figured out by now is the not-so-picture-perfect Ken, takes his sexual frustration out on Jackie and her friends not because he is disgruntled about his ED, but because of deeper seated issues.
After disposing of all the men, who are as functionally useless as others before them in the franchise, Ken comes after the women with his comically large power drill. It is the customary chase that audiences have been waiting for. And this time around there are no rockabilly sequences to distract from the perilous pursuit; Mattison instead goes for the undiluted and suspenseful tone of the original. Now, Ken’s hunt here may be deemed another stab at the unconventional idea that Holden Jones put forth in her film — the women die on account of their fear of sex rather than their desire to have sex — but, in actuality, the antagonist is violently cycling through extensive childhood trauma caused by a predatory uncle. “I don’t wanna play this game anymore,” something Ken screams as he tracks down his prey, is in reference to the past as opposed to the present. This, among other unmistakable plot breadcrumbs, alludes to the abuse Ken experienced as a boy.
Slumber Party Massacre III does not possess the same feminist slants as the previous two films, though it does sport sex positivity on occasion. The women-only striptease scene is less about objectification and more about celebrating female sexuality, and Ken goes down on Juliette without asking for reciprocation. The female characters, while not as well realized as those in Holden Jones and Deborah Brock’s entries, do have a general likability and harmony to them that ensures their deaths carry more weight. On the flipside, this sequel ultimately becomes a demonstration of the dangerous methods men use to cope with their buried pain, and how women bear the brunt of their anger and dissatisfaction. It is a realistic angle, especially for this series, but it also undoubtedly hits too close to home. That one prolonged sequence where Maria (Ford) pleads for her life is excruciating to watch through today’s social lens.
The disruptive direction of the third Slumber film will not work for everyone; concentrating on the villain’s origin story comes at the cost of the women he hurts. Nevertheless, the bleak tone of this quarrelsome sequel should be appealing to someone looking for straightforward slashers from before the postmodern movement, and the violence — particularly in the unrated edition — is agonizing and bloody. It is understandable why the preceding entries receive praise, but it would be a mistake not to give the unsung Slumber Party Massacre III some attention and credit as well.
Horror contemplates in great detail how young people handle inordinate situations and all of life’s unexpected challenges. While the genre forces characters of every age to face their fears, it is especially interested in how youths might fare in life-or-death scenarios.
The column Young Blood is dedicated to horror stories for and about teenagers, as well as other young folks on the brink of terror.
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