A couple weeks ago, while surfing the net for porn (or, as a friend from work likes to call it, “art”), I accidentally clicked over to a video clip of a kill scene from the critically acclaimed 2002 masterpiece Jason X.  [Spoiler warning?]  The scene shows a female mortician donning a blue knit crop top—medical scrubs of the future, obviously—as she examines a supine Jason.  (If you’re out of the loop, we’re talking about the serial-killer Jason from the Friday the 13th series of movies.)  Needless to say, Jason wakes up, drags the pretty lady to a vat of something very cold (liquid nitrogen à la Mighty Ducks 3?), freezes her face, and then shatters it against the examining table.  Hooray!  That’s all I have to say.  In the end, she’s a skull full of delicious raspberry sorbet.

If you’re interested—and why wouldn’t you be?—you can watch the same clip here.

My appetite whet, I was moved to rent and watch the movie in its entirety.  Now, I know I’m a little late in the game here, but doing so was definitely a good decision, for in Jason X I discovered a new and much more rewarding “art.”  I don’t know if it was the sheer realism and humanity of the whole thing, or simply the subtle ways in which the film sheds light on the human condition.  Or maybe it was just the medical scrubs.  But either way, Jason X is an exceptional film, one not to be missed.  If you don’t believe me, just read the reviews.

If you haven’t already, I strongly encourage you to see Jason X.  No more spoilers from me.  Well, okay, just one more detail:  The first actor billed in the opening credits is someone named Lexa Doig.  How sweet is that?  A name like that should be reason enough to see the movie.

Highly recommended.

PS:  Apologies for starting off on such an uncouth note.  I promise the next post will be much classier.