Hollywood, 1981. A group of adult filmmakers gather to discuss their shift of genres to horror cinema in order to make a well regarded slasher movie, a quick buck, or both. After all, as someone initially points out, Friday The 13th was made for nothing and made a killing at the box office, so why shouldn’t other productions take that formula and spin it into financial gold? There’s a camp, a historic double murder, a mysterious killer and a bunch of innocent folks to be slaughtered. Sounds familiar? If it doesn’t, where have you been all these years?
Written, directed, shot, edited – and many other things besides – by Alex Montilla, Friday The 69th is a micro budgeted feature which wears its genre love and its limited resources proudly on its sleeve. The fact that there’s porno movie gags – sorry, that’s jokes, there’s no one wearing a gag in this – mixed in with a good natured piss-take of an iconic subgenre will satisfy viewers who don’t mind broad humour with a side of smut.
The idea of the table read is a fun one, too, as ridiculously named adult performers such as Rick Moreanus (yes, I laughed, I will not be taking questions) and exploitation-thirsty director Michael Caime (yes, I laughed, I will not be taking questions) are filmed for behind-the-scenes content. Actors worry about being cast as teens, even though a few of them are in their thirties. Producer Ivan Moorehead (smirked, no questions) isn’t happy about Caime’s second draft of the screenplay that has just showed up, but his helmer is focused on getting the most bang for those bucks, which includes enlisting non-grot performer Penelope Flaversham as final girl Judy, and brokering a deal with alcohol purveyors Fierce Whiskers Distillery to up the budget.
The reveal of grizzled Director Of Photography Connor Lingus (see above as to laughter and taking of questions) does not fill the watcher with confidence as to whether any of it will be in focus, but soon we’re away from the pre-production and into the film itself, opening with a 1971-set sequence in which two fishermen meet a bloody end. Fast forward a decade and there’s intros to the group of oversexed, under prepared folks which aficionados will know and love.
The feel of the movie within the movie is nicely handled. Visually, it’s era-appropriate grainy, not always in focus – but Connor looks like he’s gone through some stuff, so let’s not be too harsh – and contains the weird cuts and haphazard editing choices that you might come across (ah, that’s not a good choice of words) in an X-rated flick. The sound occasionally cuts out abruptly or there’s a bizarre overdub. The acting oscillates between overly emphatic and reading from a card, often in the same scene by the same performer. There’s dancing crowbarred into sequences and a pervading promise of T&A, which usually leads to a jump back to the table read and Moorehead bemoaning that such filth wasn’t in the draft to which he contributed. Then again, he didn’t think there’d be a 3D segment either.
The closing credits mention Robert Rodriguez and there’s certainly a lot of the do-it-yourself school of filmmaking to be seen here – plus an almost inevitable “missing reel” caption brought into play just when things are hotting up – but that adds to the overall charm. The effects aren’t especially elaborate or convincing, but this lines up with a slew of 80s knife kill pics which threw very much the same rubbery body parts and weirdly coloured blood across the screen. Of course, as your feature presentation has been mounted by pornographers, there is a death by dick along the way and an interminable, watered down sex scene in a hot tub.
As the bodies pile up, there’s still time to interrupt some vital exposition or give extra flavour to an emotional story about what a character did in ‘Nam via a digression into the premium quality product that is Fierce Whiskers whiskey. Product placement gags aren’t exactly an innovation and this doesn’t quite hit the same heights of stupidity as the similar concept in Return Of The Killer Tomatoes, but the number of times the “F.W.” bottle is prominently in shot or the subject of lavish praise from various characters is good for a few chuckles.
In terms of parodying Sean S. Cunningham’s OG backwoods massacre, Friday The 69th provides just enough nods to its source material, but steers well away from it becoming a scene-by-scene ripoff. When it does lean into the parody, it works well, chiefly when spoofing those infamous few F13 minutes in which Robbi Morgan’s doomed hitchhiker Annie is picked up by the unseen person we suddenly realise is the killer. This is given a jocular gender swap, but retains all of the key suspense beats, right up to the whiteout as they meet their maker. It’s touches like this which demonstrate the thought that’s gone into this under the barrage of one-liners and pun worthy names.
As with any comedy horror, some will appreciate the silliness while others will think it’s far too daft for its own good but, to its credit, Friday The 69th picks a lane and sticks to it, right up to the daft twist ending(s) and last minute requirement for a stuntman. In the final analysis, it’s no more unbelievable than many straight-faced slashers and, like any 80s genre pic with an eye on franchise potential, leaves the door open for a possible sequel.
Yes, it’s throwaway, but that doesn’t mean you won’t have a good time while you’re watching it. A runtime of just over an hour and a half means boredom is unlikely to set in, especially if you’re trying to clock all of the references and stylistic choices. A game cast effectively portrays the dramatic limitations of some actors who make the move from the porn industry without any of it feeling insulting to those folks, although if anyone is thinking of slagging off Marilyn Chambers in Rabid then I’ll be coming for you (again, not an optimum choice of words there).
Montilla gets to be in front on the camera as well as behind, with the director of Friday The 69th playing the director of Friday The 69th at the table read as well as showing up towards the end of the featured movie as a detective. However, those are minor roles and the spotlight is turned on a group of performers who seem to be having a lot of fun bringing this ridiculous tale to life (and death). Amy Letcher gets the most opportunity to show a bit of a range as Flaversham/Judy, but her co-stars make the most of their fish out of water porn stars grappling with their step towards the mainstream.
Of course, not everything lands, but there’s enough going on for the proceedings to hit more often than miss. Slasher purists might turn their noses up and if you’re looking for sophisticated, witty banter then you’re unlikely to find it. However, I thought it was a diverting, breezy little offering, made for a fraction of the budget of its inspiration. Friday The 69th? I’m down.
Friday the 69th (2026) will feature at this year’s Raindance Film Festival. More details can be found here.