When a Prequel Wins: Crystal Lake, Pamela Voorhees, and Why It Works

As far as franchises go, to say that I am “unattached” to Friday the 13th would be an accurate statement. 

Make no mistake, I have a real appreciation for the foundational aspects of horror that the 1980 film establishes: the insane practical effects, some of Tom Savini’s best work, the iconic twist ending, and the birth of the slasher, Jason Voorhees. But have I ever felt emotionally attached to any character in a Friday the 13th film? Not really. 

These are the movies I put on around Halloween to keep the mood in the house right, a great conversational piece when ranking any of its numerous sequels (clearly, The Final Chapter being the best, solely for Crispin Glover’s sick dance moves), and a fabulous discussion point when debating the symbolism behind violent, penetrative slashers from the 70s and 80s (I feel like we got Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma because of this, and I will be forever grateful). 

Jason’s machete never really sunk its way into my heart. Until now. And actually, thanks to his mother, Pamela Voorhees, in Peacock’s limited prequel series, Crystal Lake.

I’ll be the first to admit that I, too, participated in the collective groan that was uttered when news of another reboot/retelling/revisitation was happening in the horror space. Like a lot of folks, my relationship with adaptations (see my latest thoughts on Flangan’s Carrie and Emily’s thoughts  as well) and intellectual property is pretty tenuous. Original concept art is something that feels more nuanced and appropriate for today’s day and age as there are so many brilliant stories that are begging to be told from unheard voices or adapted from unrecognized source material (which is an interesting trend we noted in our highest grossing horror piece). The looming sentiments of cash grabs and ulterior motives tied to reboots tinge rebooted media because it feels like a capitalization. It’s a little like beating a dead horse, but every now and then, we get a rare gem that understands the merit of swinging one last time. And that, my friends, is Crystal Lake.

A Deep Dive of Peacock's Crystal Lake

Here is where I issue a standard spoiler warning for any and all of Crystal Lake. If you haven’t seen it yet, come back after you have. I get very, very in the weeds on this so you’ve been warned!

With Crystal Lake, we are made privy to life for Pamela (Linda Cardellini) and Jason Voorhees (Callum Vinson) before and immediately following Jason’s tragic drowning at Camp Crystal Lake thanks to teenage counselors who are sucking face rather than doing their job. These are the circumstances presented in the original film when we learn that Pam is behind the camp killings, enacting revenge on horny teenagers for their role in her son’s death. This is an iconic twist to the original Friday the 13th film as the assumption is that it’s been Jason all along, not his mother. And even once Pam’s been decapitated at the end of Friday the 13th, we still get that iconic shot of Jason leaping out the water to terrorize one of the last surviving counselors. Anyone who has seen this film or knows this franchise knows how foundational to the story these set pieces are. 

But how did we get here? What were the circumstances that led Pamela to committing such carnage and violence?

To answer those questions, we obviously have to look at Pam longer than the last 20 or so minutes that the original film offers. We know grief and desperation can drive humans to some truly disturbing places, but given the intensity of Pam’s behavior, it’s not hard to imagine that there’s so much story leading up to her violence. And Crystal Lake fills in those blanks rather poignantly.

Linda Cardellini’s Pamela Voorhees is nothing short of gut-wrenching. Strolling into this series, my expectation was not tears, empathy, and heartache, but alas, Cardellini’s performance renders all of that and then some. From the very first episode, Pam’s love for her son is so palpable and deeply felt that every single action that occurs following Jason’s drowning is tinged with diabolically-crafted grief. Attributing this to a strong script or Cardellini herself is difficult, but whatever the reason, it works.

We are in lockstep with Pam Voorhees through eight episodes of carnage, grief, hope, violence, confusion, and devotion—a feat that deserves all of the applause as Crystal Lake delivers some truly wicked gore (three words: bag of blood) delivered by Voorhees herself. And the best part about our deep empathy for Pamela is the problematic nature of it all. Why are we agreeing with a woman taking a meat cleaver to someone’s face? Why are we cheering when she tries to asphyxiate a guy with his own bag of brain blood? What the hell is going on?!

Well, we crave catharsis in a world where we have very little. The female experience (and that of marginalized folks as well) is one that is well acquainted with silence, denial, lies, abuse, and immense hurt. Even when following proper channels, we are ridiculed. We are called crazy. We aren’t acting like ourselves, are we feeling okay? Have we eaten today? Or maybe it’s our time of the month? Horror in 2026 is giving us what we cannot achieve in reality: retribution, justice, rage. We are able to lose ourselves in a world where the manipulator meets a gruesome end, the abuser finds a violent demise, and those responsible for harm are stopped.

The seventh episode in the series, “Friday …” feels like a true microcosm of these very horrors and where such things leave us. In 51 minutes, we are transported back to the days of Pam’s pregnancy, the circumstances under which Jason was born, and the gut-wrenching revelations regarding his condition, mostly at the hands of his father Elias Wittering (Hamish Linklater). This is an episode suffused with tones of Rosemary’s Baby, The Stepford Wives, and, dare I say, Frankenstein to display some abhorrent horror at the hands of man, warped science, and oppression of women. It feels like a masterclass in gaslighting, highlighting Pam’s desperate desire to provide for her child while under the manipulation of her power-hungry, deplorable husband Elias. Their interactions are bone-chilling, the reality of the situation much bleaker than easily imagined which leads Pam to take action in violent ways to save herself and her son. She finds a way, albeit one coated in blood. If this sounds like a departure from most of the slasher themes this franchise is built upon, you would be absolutely correct. But, ultimately, I think it’s the best thing done in this series, if not all of horror film/television this year.

Pam’s circumstances, while set years in the past, mirror the plight of women today: our loss of agency. I feel like I beat this same drum every week, and at the risk of blowing out the drumhead, I’ll say it again: women are losing their rights. We don’t have the same power in society that we used to, and the current attitude is not full of optimism. Pam’s motherhood, her desire to provide and save the life of her unborn child is ultimately used against her to monstrous results. This shows that even when a woman “does everything right,” we’re still manipulated and used for ulterior motives. We see Pam fight to keep her baby even when the pregnancy seems dangerous, she endures horrific treatments believing it will help her unborn child, and she does everything quite literally by the book (thanks to a rather nifty montage) as a mother. But none of this matters, not when something stands to be gained from exploiting her body. The most pure thing of all, a mother’s love, is still weaponized. There is no winning, no safety, no rest in Pamela’s past or our present.

Thus, we understand why Pam’s tolerance for shitty parenting, controlling assholes, and young adults operating without thoughts of consequences, is pretty damn high, until it’s not. Does this mean we co-sign on all the murder? Not necessarily. It just makes more sense within this context, and again, we are given the catharsis we are so desperately lacking in today’s world. What Crystal Lake, and by proxy the state of modern horror, realizes so clearly is that two things can be true at once: Pamela Voorhees has been through the most atrocious circumstances imaginable, and she is still an unhinged killer. We can support one side of this and still look sideways at the other.

And again, I want to give Linda Cardellini her flowers here. A performance like this is racked with pain, betrayal, and deeply affecting hurt that cannot be easy to balance, yet she does so with utter, hypnotizing grace. Every scream is felt, every tear shed a stab in the gut. We experience the tragedy of the whole situation as if it were happening to us, as if we tried to save our child time and time again, only to be met with such bleak, resounding horror. We are Pam in those moments, and we hurt.

Zooming out, we feel seen. Someone in that writer’s room understands where we are at as women and why all of it is so horrific. They saw an opportunity to tell Pam’s story in a way that makes sense emotionally and that should be told in 2026. Give whoever (Brad Caleb Kane, Laura Marks, Jen Silverman, Pia Wilson) all the money in the world. Because these stories, when they’re told and how they’re told, matter.

Why This Revisitation Works

Over the past few weeks, I’ve really wrestled with why some adaptations and reboots work and others do not. Obviously, this isn’t an exact science, but the thing that keeps screaming at me is the heart of the art, its intention. Nostalgia, cinematic universes, and expansions alone do not inherently feel like heartfelt reasons to revisit a piece of horror media that has proven itself in prior years. That’s not to say these aren’t valid reasons; they certainly are! But often, something lacks in these pieces of art, some brand of sincerity. What does seem sincere is taking a look at something that already exists, finding the story that has not been told yet, and shaping that narrative into something existing fans and a new audience can appreciate, which is not easy especially in the case of a slasher franchise.

Why is that, you ask? Well, a lot of folks (myself included) love slashers for their simpleness. Man chases woman with weapon. Blood flows. Kills happen. At times, this kind of horror does work. It’s nice to get a break and enjoy something as uncomplicated as a person whose sole purpose on this Earth is to destroy. I get that rage honestly, and as convoluted as it sounds, there’s a weird purity to it all. An absolutism. Destroy, destroy, destroy.

At the end of the day, I do yearn for more. And what feels far more compelling is the why of it all. Why do these figures we’ve injected into our pop culture so wholly do what they do? The answers to that big question of “why” are often not easy. Staring down violence in such a way raises the question of why we were drawn to it in the first place, why it might make sense for us, and even more terrifying, what if it doesn’t make sense? The thing that modern horror does best, as proven by the healthy state of horror fiction, is that it meets us at our “why.” It holds our hand and walks us through all the possibilities until we find a home where we feel comfortable to rest our weird, angry heads for a bit. Something the folks who put together Crystal Lake certainly did.

Find Me at the Bottom of the Lake

Beyond the feminist themes that anchor Crystal Lake, there’s a lot to love as a horror fan as well. Some changes are made, but in a way that tracks in line with the emotional beats of this show. I’ll also be the first to admit, I’m not a Friday the 13th scholar, so some of the changes probably went right over my head. But as a casual fan, I was pleased. Like any series, there’s high points (Levon and Pam’s chemistry, gore galore, commentary on sexuality, and an explanation for Jason’s abilities that makes sense) and low points (some of the “hippie” subplot, that choice with Grace). It certainly isn’t perfect. But the heart of the show certainly is, and I will forever be screaming about this iteration.

I don’t know if another season of Crystal Lake is on the table or even if doing one is ultimately a good idea. What I do know is that this series restored my faith in the reboot or the prequel or the adaptation, whatever you wanna call it, as the series tells a story in dire need of airtime. Pamela Voorhees’ plight is one that deserves to be told just as much as Jason’s, and I have never been happier to hear it. 

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