The makers of this sixth film about the death toll at the worst camping grounds in America KNOW that it’s bad. They get it. They really do. And I like them for it. There are enough jokes to make this partly qualify as a comedy. Call it useless and moronic, but don’t call it smug. This is the second chapter after the so-called final chapter and they’re letting it all hang out. This film stabs holes in logic like Jason Vorhees stabs teenagers. It starts with a vengeful idiot who digs up the grave of Jason Vorhees to burn his remains and then somehow ends up reviving him as a hockey mask-sporting zombie—and it only gets dumber from there. This film is a one-way-ticket to La-La Land on the Idiot Planet dead center of the Stupid Galaxy. Know what to expect and this little skull fracture of a film can’t disappoint. Its best moments are the gags rather than the kills. Get a load of the little girl reading Jean-Paul Sartre. Then there are the two boys who offer their dry commentary on the action whilst they hide under a bed, framed like a vaudeville comedy team by director Tom McLoughlin, as Jason paints the camp red (“So what were you going to be when you grew up?”).