Betsy Palmer memories

In the wake of the passing of Betsy Palmer, I figured this would be a good week to take a break from reviews and take a trip down memory lane.

May 13, 1994.  That was the day I saw the original Friday the 13th for the first time on one of those long-ago marathons that used to get trotted out every time an actual unlucky Friday crossed the calendar.  Much like pretty any other first-time viewer, I tuned into that movie expecting some rampaging Jason action and was most shocked when all we saw for the vast majority of that movie was the killer's hands.  Lo and behold, when the kindly old woman showed up after all of the slaughter that the flick threw our direction, I believed her explanation.

Because she was convincing.  Damn convincing.  And as a still very impressionable 10- and soon to be 11-year-old, Betsy Palmer scared the crap out of me.  She could go from zero to crazy in approximately .73 seconds.  During those years, the Friday the 13th series was this big, interconnected epic series in my mind, and what I had just seen was the equivalent of Darth Vader's origin story.  When the closing credits were airing, I was already amped for the prospect of how the series would introduce Jason, pulling on this newfound mythology that I was just pulling back the layers of.

Of course, as a kid, I liked the movies with Jason more.  But I always looked forward to those sporadic viewings of the first film for something different, a movie that didn't have an ounce of supernatural chicanery.  Or even a killer with a mask.  I was fascinated by Palmer's portrayal of Pamela as a deep character despite the ridiculous script, and it's something that I would eventually get an explanation of years later.

Many years later when I rediscovered the franchise in college, my perspective on Palmer would change drastically.  On the sporadic occasions when I could find other people to watch the movies with me, her appearance at the conclusion of the film was always a crowd pleaser, with the various voices and the crazed facial expressions always popping a crowd (/Lance Storm).  Research would also show that she was a pretty damn colorful personality in real life and that she did NOT pull any punches when it came to what she thought of the movie that made her more famous than she ever was during her heyday.  Calling the script "a piece of s**t" and adding that she only accepted the role to buy a new car, Palmer certainly had some very strong opinions and wasn't afraid to share them.

That didn't stop me from buying the official Pamela Voorhees action figure a few years later with one specific purpose - to Ms. Palmer to sign it in person at a Minneapolis horror convention.  When I saw that she was one of the guests of honor, that virtually sealed the deal of me breaking out of my usual shell and making the three-hour drive for a weekend of fun and stage blood.  While that convention was loads of fun all around, Betsy Palmer would undoubtedly make it the highlight.

Firstly, the line to reach her was absolutely ENORMOUS.  The wait was something like 90 minutes, although I did get the chance to talk about my love of The Burning with an the people standing in front of me in line.  But it was what happened during the actual meeting that will forever be burned into my brain, as I was greeted by a lady wearing the exact same damn sweater that she wore during the Friday climax, a sweet, genuine woman whose love for the fans poured over into everything she said.  Even though I had to pay $20 for that autograph, I didn't feel rushed or cheated in the slightest.  In fact, I got to thank her for playing a big part in my childhood that became so big it would carry over into adulthood.  When she thanked me in return, it was sincere - just as sincere as that "kill her, mommy!  Kill her!" all those years ago.

It's been said by many actors that they spend an entire career hoping to be remembered for just one role.  Betsy Palmer, undoubtedly, achieved that.  It's one of my favorite phrases when it comes to answering criticisms of the Friday the 13th series, but it fits: How many sequels, again?

RIP, Ms. Palmer.  The horror genre is much, much bigger and better because of your brief dalliance with it.