Judged on its own merits, this first batch of grisly murders at Camp Crystal Lake is a decent little piece of B-Movie exploitation, catering to teens with healthy doses of their two favorite 80s entrees: sex and violence. However, the original Friday the 13th's reputation has been sullied not only by its imitators but also by its own inferior sequels, of which there are currently nine (with Freddy vs. Jason on the way).

Ignoring local legend and the warnings of the town drunk (how seriously does this guy expect people to take him when his name is Crazy Ralph?), Steve Christie decides to re-open Camp Crystal Lake, where, in 1958, a pair of counselors were butchered by an unapprehended killer. The camp also carries the stigma of a young boy named Jason Voorhees, who drowned as two counselors who were supposed to be watching him instead engaged in a game of "stick the hot dog in the campfire."

Though not the genesis of the stalk and slash genre, Friday the 13th established the rules of the game. If characters have sex, they will be killed before the post-humping sweat dries on their bodies. If anyone says the words "I'll be right back," they will be killed within 60 seconds. If any character manages to get to an automobile in hopes of escape, that car ain't startin'.

It's a formula that thrives on simplicity. We are introduced to a group of nubile teenagers, with just enough exposition to show they are horny and not too smart, then a deranged killer systematically hacks them up one by one. As far as the hacking up is concerned, the film features excellent gore effects from carnage maestro Tom Savini. Disappointingly, Friday the 13th isn't all that bloody, and the gross factor never comes close to Savini's work in 1978's Dawn of the Dead.

The acting is passable: Not too good, but not as dreadful as some of the series' future installments. None of the cast members have much of a personality (except for Mark Nelson as Ned, filling the required "zany practical joker" role necessary for a couple of misdirections) and, not surprisingly, only Kevin Bacon's career ever amounted to anything.

The twist ending is a bit random (though it did result in Drew Barrymore's gutting in Scream), as the "killer" shows up without previously being mentioned. Director Sean S. Cunningham doesn't even bother to throw out red herrings. At the end of the film someone simply appears, announces that they're the murderer, then engages in an incredibly campy final battle with the lone remaining camper (who also happens to be the least attractive and least interesting of the bunch).

Benefiting from its low budget and Harry Menfredini's score (entirely ripped-off from Bernard Hermmann, though it's a well-done rip-off), Friday the 13th ends up smack in the middle of the slasher pack. Lacking the dark humor of Black Christmas (1974) or the claustrophobic suspense of Halloween (1978), but also not awful enough to achieve cult status, the window of enjoyment for the film lies in youth, when the per-adolescent mind can still muster enough imagination to find a machete wielding madman in the woods terrifying.

For most people, that sense of imagination subsides around the age of 12 or 13. If you're lucky enough to experience the movie before then, you just might enjoy Friday the 13th. However, no age group or demographic (including relatives of the participants) should bother with the majority of the sequels.