Many of her contemporaries not only like to carry on as if they always loved being so-and-so in blankety-blank; they're horror "geeks" who came out as "fans" of their films once they got the news that it was cool to do so, and they could profit at the conventions.
Bleh. Give me Ms. Palmer any day of the week, the woman whose decision to play the original Serial Mom was apparently guided by the need for a new car; the feisty middle-aged broad who reminded me a lot like my dear Nana, another beautiful, feisty broad who passed away in 1992. Now, my Nana never killed anyone, but she could've, and she had a mouth on her like Betsy, and a bitchin' rattail and was never without a Corona in her hand. Those two ladies could be ki-ki-kickin' it in Heaven right now for all I know. Wouldn't that be rad?
Anyway, Ms. Palmer had a blazing filmography before the Jason films, and I'm sure that by the time F13 rolled around she was probably wondering where the hell that all went. But you know what makes us horror nuts so great? The fact that we love our heroes so goddamned much that we acknowledge what came before, and we honor that as much as we honor what we call "the good stuff." Didn't she turn down Freddy Vs. Jason because she thought she wasn't getting paid enough? See? The woman knew her worth. You go, mama. And we all know that film sucked donkeys anyway. Maybe she was clairvoyant as well.
So yeah, there you go. Not much of a tribute, I know, but it's how I feel. I'm so sad. I remember seeing Friday the 13th at the drive-in as a child, and she made a real impression. Who loved their son so much that they would track down and kill Annie the sweet, adorable camp cook even after she carried on about how much she loved kids? I mean, that's crazy love. But there you go. Like the inimitable Betsy Palmer, Mrs. Voorhees took her position early on, and when she died, we knew her devotion to us and the franchise was clear. Like crystal.