There are movie years that live in the shadows of decades, tucked somewhere between the big bangs and turning points—but 1981 was no placeholder. 1981 was actually a year of contradictions: knights and capes, serial killers and screwball racers, and a spoiled drunk man caught between the moon and New York City.

This was the year when we met Arthur Bach, watched Jason Voorhees pick up where his mother left off, and saw Superman give it all up for love. It was the year of Excalibur and Cannonball Run, a time when movies weren’t just entertainment—they were escape pods for kids and adults alike.

Arthur: A Drunk with a Million Dollar Heart

If you were a kid in the early ‘80s, you might not have known what all the fuss was about. But your parents did. Arthur wasn’t a kid’s film—it was a grown-up fairy tale with a boozy twist. Dudley Moore played Arthur Bach like he’d been born wearing a velvet smoking jacket and silver spoon. He was a millionaire man-child, drinking his way through New York City, avoiding responsibility and marriage.

But underneath the slurred speech and champagne giggles, Arthur was lonely. And then came Linda (Liza Minnelli). She was working class, all heart and hustle, and just the jolt Arthur needed. The film’s magic, though, was Sir John Gielgud. As Hobson, Arthur’s unflappable butler, he delivered dry wit with the precision of a scalpel—and somehow, his stoic charm grounded the whole thing. When Hobson died, it hit different. You didn’t expect tears from a movie with that many martini jokes, but Arthur pulled it off.

 

Cannonball Run: Madcap Mayhem on Wheels

Cannonball Run wasn’t a movie—it was a party that just happened to be caught on camera. Directed by Hal Needham, the king of daredevil cinema, this was pure popcorn chaos. The premise? An illegal, coast-to-coast car race packed with lunatics behind the wheel. Burt Reynolds, cool as ever, led the charge, but it was the cast of characters that made this one a cult classic. Dom DeLuise as Captain Chaos. Roger Moore spoofing James Bond. Jackie Chan making his American debut in a souped-up Subaru.

It was a transition from the late 70s cinema into 1981; messy, loud, and it was barely held together by plot—but that was the point. Cannonball Run felt like summer break: fast, funny, and just a little bit reckless. Critics didn’t know what to make of it. Audiences, however, ate it up.

 

1981: Superman learns the true meaning of sacrifice

There are superhero movies—and then there’s Superman II. We already believed a man could fly, we didn’t know the depths he’d go to for the world. This was sacrifice, identity, and vulnerability wrapped in spandex. Christopher Reeve returned with even more charisma, if that’s possible. This time, Clark Kent wasn’t just battling villains—he was battling himself.

The film picks up where the first left off, but this time around, Superman gives up his powers for love. Lois Lane finally learns the truth, and for a brief, blissful moment, they’re just two people in love in a crystal fortress. But of course, danger doesn’t wait for happily ever after. Enter General Zod, played with (sometimes) campy cold-blooded elegance by Terence Stamp. Along with Ursa and Non, he brings terror to Earth and forces Superman to become who he was always meant to be.

Behind the scenes, the movie was a mess—Donner out, Lester in—but somehow, the final cut still shines. The Paris opening, the moon battle, the showdown in Metropolis. It was everything a kid in 1981 could dream of.

 

Excalibur: Medieval Sorcery in 1981

Before CGI armies and streaming epics, we had Excalibur—John Boorman’s bold, bloody, and beautiful take on the Arthurian legends. This wasn’t the sanitized Camelot of musicals or bedtime stories. This was raw. Visceral. Hypnotic. The armor gleamed like wet chrome. The forests were drenched in green fog. And the sword? The sword was everything.

Nigel Terry played Arthur not as a golden hero, but as a confused boy-king caught in the machinery of fate. Nicol Williamson’s Merlin was eccentric and unsettling, less Gandalf and more mad scientist. There was betrayal, prophecy, and doom. And through it all, the score—Wagner’s Siegfried’s Funeral March and Orff’s O Fortuna—elevated the myth to operatic heights.

For fantasy fans, Excalibur was formative. It whispered of darker legends and deeper magic, planting seeds that would one day bloom into the epic tales we love today.

For more on Excalibur, see the interview with the late, great Paul Geoffrey.

For even more Arthurian Legends, buy my book, Whispers of Excalibur: The Remains.

 

1981…Friday the 13th Part 2: Jason is finally unleashed

Jason didn’t get his mask in Friday the 13th Part 2. But he got something far more important—his start. This sequel picked up right after Pamela Voorhees lost her head, literally. Now, her boy—grown and grieving—took up the machete. And unlike his mother, Jason wasn’t big on monologues.

Part 2 is rough around the edges, but that rawness adds to the fear. He wears a sack over his head, more hillbilly horror than slasher icon, and stalks a new group of teens with quiet rage. The kills are creative, the tension real, and the ending ambiguous enough to keep the door open for what would become one of horror’s longest-running franchises. Nothing cements it more than that final jump scare. You know what I’m talking about.