Despite original claims that it was a bold return to classic horror values, the Hatchet franchise didn’t really add all that much to the long, lurid legacy of that most notorious of genres. I’ll agree that the attempts of Adam Green to give us a heartwarming (not to mention heart piercing) reminder of the supernatural slashers of the 80s came with buckets of crowd pleasing gore and plenty of horror centric cameos for fans to cheer at a festival screenings, but aside from that, Victor Crowley’s genre footprint was oddly minimal.
However, I do have to admit – while none of the Hatchet entries have proven to be standout examples of the genre, they’re pretty fun to watch when taken as the disposable goof-offs they’re supposed to be even if the sequel added precisely nothing to the initial premise. Well, guess what? Here comes Hatchet III to continue to aggressively refuse to reinvent the wheel while trying to bring the ballad of Victor Crowley to a chaotic close. But with Green absent from directing duties, can Crowley’s third outing still cut it? Or tear it? Or even disembowel it?
Once again, we pick up at the exact moment the previous film abruptly halted with a blood sodden Marybeth supposedly putting the hulking, misshapen Victor Crowley down for the count after rearranging his deformed features with multiple blasts of a shotgun. However, when that still proves to be ineffectual, she inflicts yet more damage to be able to escape and eventually show up at the local police station with thousand yard stare on her face and Crowley’s scalp clutched in her hand.
While Marybeth is confident that she’s finally ended the rampage of her supernatural nemesis, that doesn’t stop her from having her gore soaked ass thrown in a cell under suspicion of something incredibly heinous. Led by Sheriff Fowler, the local police and paramedics descend on Honey Island Swamp to mop up the piles of bodies that have amassed over the last two nights, but after big Vic resurrects once again when the sun goes down, an overconfident SWAT team step in to attempt to take control with predictably splattery results. Meanwhile, while Marybeth cools her heels in a cell, Fowler’s journalist ex-wife Amanda shows up with something of an iffy suggestion. Claiming to be a Crowley expert, she claims she knows how the murderous apparition can be put down once and for all and she needs Marybeth’s help thanks to the fact that she is the daughter of the man who inadvertently caused death of Crowley and his father.
While the man in question butchering everyone in sight back in Honey Island Swamp like he’s getting paid for it, Marybeth, Amanda and the hapless Deputy Winslow race to get the things they need to finally halt the spectral rampage once and for all.
You’d be forgiven in thinking that the absence of Adam Green from the director’s chair would prove to be an ill omen for a threequel for a series that prioritises kickass gore and goofy wisecracks over everything else, but there’s a moment near the beginning that not only proves that BJ McDonnell knows ehat he’s doing, but it proves to be the funniest in-joke the series has thus far produced. As Zach Galligan’s sheriff denounces the reckless acts of Marybeth over the last two movies as dumb and ill-conceived acts of illogical and nonsensical planning, the camera cuts to franchise writer, Adam Green himself playing a drunk in the next cell, looking hurt at this meta attack on his plotting skills. OK, it’s a weird, self-aware joke for a franchise that was put in place to counteract the wave of meta-slashers that followed in the wake of Scream, but it’s impossible to condemn a franchise that literally seems to exist purely for its fans.
It’s weird that that very lack of interest in doing something that caused me to chastise the second film is exactly what makes the third movie so breezy and easygoing, but I also have to applaud the fact that unlike countless other low budget slashers, Hatchet III is actually shooting for an actual, legitimate ending rather than just trying to be another continuing instalment even though Green returned to deliver a soft sequel/reboot only four years later.
The plot is about as strong as a balsa wood battleship, but if you were to cast your eye over the franchise as a whole, it seems like Hatchet III is supposed to play less like the final movie of a trilogy and more like the third act of one giant, four and a half hour slash fest. New characters are “introduced” purely to get shit moving or set up yet more cameos or in-jokes (hello again to Parry Shen who is now on his third Hatchet character). Will you remember Sheriff Fowler or his ex-wife Amanda because of the way they’re written or performed, or do they stick out because you recognise Galligan from Gremlins or Waxworks and Caroline Williams from famously getting bothered by a horny Leatherface in Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2? Obviously it’s the latter, but once again, it’s exactly this sort of stunt casting that makes Hatchet such fun. I mean, where else can you see two Jason actors battle to the death (Kane Hodder and Derek Mears respectively) or watch another foul mouthed rant from the late, great Sid Haig? It may provide an easy source of cheers from hardcore horror fans, but it also has a proven track record.
Also remaining fairly consistent is the high levels of gore that the franchise demands and I have to say, being as old as I am to witness Kane Hodder’s Friday The 13th early experiences suffer from the wrath of censors, it’s still a kick to see him tear his victims asunder with his bare hands. When he isn’t sand grinding heads down to the nub or pulling out spines and skulls like a redneck Predator, he’s throwing people in front of wildly fired rocket launchers or stomping their heads into mush. While there’s nothing truly innovative about the gore this time around – the franchise has been doggedly chasing that awesome jaw rip from the first film – it’s pretty much a non-stop evisceration-fest for around the last half hour, so you definitely get your money’s worth in that respect (killer Joel David Moore cameo too).
However, obviously there are plenty of issues. Once again it’s yet another Hatchet movie that’s set in the exact same Swamp, so visually the movie is indistinguishable from it’s predecessors and Danielle Harris’ Marybeth seems to have less to do this time and spends most of the run time glowering from the back seat of a cop car while Williams runs around doing all the heavy lifting. Also, if you haven’t seen a Hatchet movie before or are just immune to the goofy experience, then Hatchet III will probably appeal as much as going jogging in a sandpaper thong as it has absolutely no interest in winning over the uninitiated.
However, for those that do give a shit, I have to say, the closing moments do carry a surprising amount of weight as Victor and Marybeth’s stories seemingly both come to an end, especially if parts one and two are fresh in your mind – and if you don’t go into all that mushy stuff, you’ve got a climactic, 80s style meltdown to tide you over.
It may be far more interested in breaking bones than breaking new ground, but this SWAT vs slasher trilogy capper cheerfully delivers every dumb thing you’d expect and not a drop of blood more.
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