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"Jason Goes to Hell: The Final Friday" is one of those rare cases where the subtitle ends up being the best thing about the movie. In its ninth official outing, the "Friday the 13th" franchise ditches not only Crystal Lake as its main setting, but also everything that used to define Jason Voorhees as a slasher horror icon. What we get instead is an experience that tries to be innovative but ends up as an absurd, disconnected patchwork in which Jason himself barely even matters. The film kicks off with a promising hook-a full-on FBI ambush that blows Jason to pieces right in the opening-but what comes next is a pile of bizarre creative choices that completely betray the spirit of the saga.

The biggest decision (and probably the biggest mistake) the script makes is turning Jason into a body-hopping entity that possesses people by literally eating his own heart. No joke. Before the audience even has time to process how gross and random that is, we're already neck-deep in a plot that feels like it was ripped from a bad episode of "The X-Files." Jason spends most of the movie "inside" other people, which means the iconic hockey-masked killer barely shows up in the flesh. And let's be real-by this point in the franchise, fans aren't asking for half-baked sci-fi experiments. They want creative kills, a creepy atmosphere, and that menacing, silent figure who brings genuine fear. Instead, we get a floaty Jason-spirit with a weird family-tree obsession, and the focus shifts to a messy storyline involving bloodlines, demonic possession, and a baby who's apparently the key to sending Jason to hell.

The movie does try to make up for its madness with graphic violence-and yeah, it does hit the mark at times. The kills are extremely brutal, and the practical effects are solid enough to trigger some genuine disgust here and there. But the problem is, without any emotional build-up or real stakes, those deaths feel hollow, gratuitous, and even repetitive. The diner massacre, for instance, is so over-the-top it borders on parody-and not in a clever way. When the "real" Jason finally comes back toward the end, he actually looks pretty cool: grotesque and bloated, with his mask fused into his face like he's some hell-born mutation. But he shows up for such a short time, it barely makes a difference. It's more of a caricatured farewell than a proper return.

The main trio-Jessica (Kari Keegan), Steven (John D. LeMay), and bounty hunter Creighton Duke (Steven Williams)-is... fine, at best. They don't sink the film, but they also don't have enough charisma to carry such a ridiculous plot. Everyone else might as well be extras in the pilot of a cancelled TV show-completely forgettable. Director Adam Marcus tries to keep the pace up, but gets totally lost in the tonal mess: the movie swings between taking itself way too seriously and diving into trashy absurdity, never really committing to either. On top of that, the dialogue is laughably clunky and loaded with exposition, randomly introducing a whole new mythology that throws out any consistency with the previous films. The script doesn't even try to explain how Jason came back after "Jason Takes Manhattan"-and somehow, now everyone knows who he is and what he wants.

The score, at least, brings back Harry Manfredini, who tries to inject some of that old-school "Friday the 13th" vibe. He does a decent job, but even his work gets buried under a plot that never allows any real atmosphere to settle. There's an attempt to tie this movie into other horror universes-especially "Evil Dead" and "A Nightmare on Elm Street"-and that leads to what is the best moment in the entire film: Freddy Krueger's gloved hand bursting from the ground to grab Jason's mask and drag it to hell. It's a fun wink to fans, but also a cruel reminder that the long-awaited crossover wouldn't arrive for years-and that all this demonic madness was really just a pointless prologue.

"Jason Goes to Hell" is a desperate attempt to reinvent a character who never needed reinvention. By swapping out straightforward horror for a clunky esoteric mythology, the film completely abandons what made the franchise work. Even with some solid practical effects and a few intense scenes, it's hard to defend a chapter that treats its main villain like a background detail and gets swallowed by a script that feels like a bad parody. In the end, the real hell in the title? It's the one the audience gets stuck in: a storyline that should've never made it past the first draft.

"Friday the 13th Part VIII: Jason Takes Manhattan" is, at best, a masterclass in frustration. It sells a cool premise-Jason Voorhees wreaking havoc in the streets of New York-but delivers maybe a fraction of that, and right at the tail end. With over an hour of the runtime stuck entirely on a boat, the film doesn't just betray its own promise; it openly exposes the creative exhaustion of a franchise that had already been limping through its previous entries. The city that was supposed to be Jason's bloody new playground ends up as nothing more than a lifeless, stereotypical backdrop for a handful of rushed scenes-a colossal waste, especially considering the potential the premise had.

The narrative structure is pure chaos. The script throws continuity and logic straight out the window, stitching together a plot that feels more like a patchwork of lazy choices than an actual story. Jason now basically teleports wherever he wants, popping up all over the ship (and later the city) with a level of agility that can only be explained by wizardry-or maybe a hidden Hogwarts acceptance letter. One scene has him tossing a guy from the mast straight into an antenna, and in another, he seems to be in two places at once in Manhattan. It's the kind of lazy writing that doesn't even try to cover up how little thought went into it. And if that weren't enough, there are glaring plot holes so big even the least attentive viewer can't miss them-like, seriously, how does Crystal Lake connect to the Atlantic Ocean?

From a technical perspective, there are a few hints of effort. The cinematography is passable, the boat's interiors are used decently enough, and Fred Mollin's soundtrack-especially the song "The Darkest Side of the Night"-tries to give the film a darker vibe. But all of that gets buried by direction that's totally lifeless, never once managing to build real tension. The kills, usually the big draw in any slasher, are the weakest in the franchise so far. They're toned down, forgettable, and completely lack creativity. Maybe the only standout is when Jason punches Julius's head clean off with one hit-it's not even brutal so much as it is cartoonishly absurd, which kind of makes it memorable in a weird way.

The characters? Practically non-existent. Rennie (Jensen Daggett), the supposed lead, is one of the most forgettable "final girls" of the series-zero charisma, zero personality. The rest of the cast are just bodies waiting to be slashed, built on recycled stereotypes from earlier films. Julius tries to shine, especially in the rooftop boxing scene, which is easily the most talked-about moment from the movie. But it's a rare spark in a sea of nothingness. The acting ranges from painfully generic to full-on amateur, and not even Kane Hodder, who physically is Jason at this point, can rescue the film from being a bore.

What could've been a much-needed reinvention for the "Friday the 13th" series turns into just another boring rehash dressed up in a new gimmick. "Jason Takes Manhattan" is like a promise that never gets fulfilled-the title teases a citywide slaughter, but what we get is a dull boat trip with weak kills and flat characters. And by the time the film actually gets to New York, the audience is too tired to care. Even worse: once Jason's there, the movie still refuses to do anything cool or bold with it. He chases just two kids around, and there's no fun, creative use of the urban setting. It's the kind of misstep that doesn't just hurt this entry-it makes you question whether the franchise even knows what to do with itself anymore.

All in all, "Jason Takes Manhattan" isn't just a bad movie-it's a wasted opportunity. A clear sign that the series had hit a wall creatively, where even trying to do something new ended in an even bigger mess. Maybe it's not the absolute worst thanks to "A New Beginning," but it's definitely one of the most disappointing examples of how a solid idea can get completely wrecked by lazy execution, nonsensical writing, and a total lack of ambition. By the time the credits roll, the only thing you're left with is the realization that Jason didn't take Manhattan-he just kinda swung by, got lost, and killed some time. Literally.

There's something frustratingly apathetic about the new version of "I Know What You Did Last Summer," a kind of reboot that tries to balance respect for the 1997 original with a half-hearted attempt at updating the formula. The result, though, is a movie that hesitates on all fronts: it hesitates to be bold, it hesitates to be gory, and it even hesitates to be fun. Directed by Jennifer Kaytin Robinson and co-written with Sam Lansky, the film feels more interested in seeming relevant than in actually telling a good story. The attempt to layer the narrative with social commentary-on gentrification, trauma, inequality, and media exploitation-could've been a welcome addition to the slasher genre, but it all comes off like bad makeup: nice from a distance, but it doesn't hold up when you look closer.

The plot follows Ava (Chase Sui Wonders) and her group of friends after a tragic accident they choose to cover up. Guilt haunts them for a year-until the inevitable note appears: "I know what you did last summer." It's a functional setup, but totally sterile. Unlike the original, which tackled guilt in a raw, almost primal way (and had characters making morally murky choices, which made them more compelling), this version oddly softens the group's responsibility. The writers' decision to avoid placing anyone directly behind the wheel the night of the accident feels like a move designed to preserve the audience's sympathy-but it only ends up deflating the tension. What should've been a dark jumping-off point for horror ends up feeling like a lazy narrative cop-out, watering down the weight of everything that follows.

Once the killings start, "I Know What You Did Last Summer" runs into its second big problem: tonal inconsistency. The first few deaths have that over-the-top, almost comic book-style gore you'd expect from slashers that know exactly what they are. But as the movie goes on, it starts taking itself way too seriously-and what began as bloody fun turns into something dour and sluggish. There's one scene, in particular, where a victim bleeds out while crying for their mom, and instead of shock or empathy, it just feels uncomfortable-for all the wrong reasons. The film seems torn between wanting to be "Scream" and wanting to be "Hereditary," but it lacks the technical skill or script finesse to land in either space. Saira Haider's clunky editing only makes things worse, breaking the rhythm at crucial points and making the story feel longer than it actually is.

Another thing that adds to the film's emptiness is the cast. Chase Sui Wonders gives a solid performance and manages to carry the film with some grace, but most of the supporting cast lacks the charisma to make you care. Names like Madelyn Cline and Jonah Hauer-King are clearly there more for marketing than for any real connection with their roles. Jennifer Love Hewitt's return as Julie James, while clearly well-meant, is completely underused: her character exists more as a nostalgic wink to longtime fans than as an organic part of the plot. Her arc-dealing with a bitter divorce from Ray (Freddie Prinze Jr.)-hints at deeper trauma the script clearly doesn't want to explore. It's a total waste of emotional legacy, something that could've been the strongest link between the franchise's past and present.

And then there's the ending. Oh man, the ending. Or better yet-the multiple endings. It's a pile-up of plot twists that not only fail to surprise, but actually insult the viewer's intelligence. At a certain point, it feels like the writers watched the trainwreck that was "I Still Know What You Did Last Summer" and said, "Let's top that." The final reveals are so absurd and sloppily strung together that any attempt at internal logic just goes out the window. Add in some outdated internet slang and eye-roll-worthy one-liners, and the whole thing ends on a note that's more cringe than clever.

Overall, the 2025 "I Know What You Did Last Summer" fails not because it tried something new-but because it never really committed to anything. It's a slasher that wants to seem smart but never digs into its themes, and wants to be entertaining without having the script to back it up. With a bit more guts, it could've become a biting take on guilt, class, and collective memory. Instead, by playing it safe, it ends up being just another forgettable reboot, stuck somewhere between the weight of nostalgia and a total lack of its own identity.