Halloween 2019: October 6th

A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984)

What can be said about “A Nightmare on Elm Street” that hasn't already been said? Wes Craven's 1984 shocker stands among the most enduring and iconic horror films of the eighties. In Freddy Krueger, Craven and New Line Cinema created a modern boogeyman whose lasting appeal and popularity speaks to his power. It seems Freddy was immediately accepted into the pantheon of great movie monsters and has never left, spawning a multi-media franchise and an obsessive fan base. I've even already reviewed the movie once before. Yet, as overturned as this particular cinematic rock has been, “A Nightmare on Elm Street” is also a rich enough experience that you can always find something to say about it. On the eve of the film's 35th anniversary, and right after the Wes Craven estate has regained legal rights to the original film, now seems like as good a time as any to revisit the entire “A Nightmare on Elm Street” series.

Perhaps a reason Craven's film remains so potent is that the writer/director, ever the English teacher, packed the story with multiple meanings. For me, more than anything else, “A Nightmare on Elm Street” is about the conflict between the waking world, represented by the idyllic suburban setting, and the unconscious, seen in Freddy's nightmare world. Freddy represents everything suppressed and ignored by polite society. He's literally raw, much of his flesh burned away. He's blatantly sexual, lewd and sadistic. Springwood seems like a nice place yet it still gave birth to that most horrid of criminal, a child killer and implied molester. This wholesome small town was also home to acts of gang vigilante justice. Behind these pristine white houses hides killers of all stripes. Much the same way our darkest thoughts and desires hide only under the veil of sleep.

And what is the most common crime that occurs in that quintessential American setting of Suburbia? Child abuse, of course. “A Nightmare on Elm Street” is a movie deeply concerned with how parents mistreat their offspring. Freddy is the ultimate perverse father figure, emblematic of every man who molests or harms his own children, a grown-up who lords his authority over those younger than him, less powerful than him. (After all, he goes into a child's bedroom and touches them.) Yet he's far from the only example. Nancy's mom sees how afraid her daughter is but she ignores the clear evidence that her nightmares are more than just dreams. She “knows” better than the girl, even putting bars on her bedroom window. Glen's parents similarly dismiss these problems, his dad talking about how you “just need to be stern with these kids.” The parents never listen to, never really care for, their own children. That an act of vigilante justice is indirectly responsible for unleashing Freddy on their kids is another example of their own senseless attitudes harming their children.

Freddy clearly struck a chord with audiences, becoming an iconic villain immediately. Craven obviously put a lot of thought into Freddy, creating a villain dripping with deeper meaning. Freddy is an urban legend, whispered about in playground rhymes, but it goes deeper than that. That iconic weapon, the claw, is primal. It extends the human fingers to sharpened points, bringing the ripping claws of the cave bear's paw to mind. Freddy dwells in a boiler room, retrofitting his nightmare world to resemble it. This isn't just the cliché place for a molestation to happen. Freddy dwells underground – again, below and hidden, in the subconscious – in a place clearly reminiscent of Hell. And Robert Englund did such an exquisite job bringing the character to life. Freddy grins and tells sick jokes, a creepy uncle performing magic tricks, to himself while his victims cower. He delights in frightening kids, in making those less intimidating than him uncomfortable.

Just beyond the layers upon layers Wes Craven and his team built into the film, he also went out of his way to make a scary movie. The film attempts to build an appropriately surreal atmosphere during its dream sequence. Inexplicable images – a random sheep appearing, a body being dragged off by an invisible force, squirming centipedes and eels out of the blue – appear throughout these scenes. Freddy happily bends his own body, time and space at his will. In its best moments, “A Nightmare on Elm Street” is deeply creepy and genuinely transgressive. (For the time, anyway.) Those shots of foggy or shadowy suburban streets set the mood. And when atmosphere doesn't work, Craven – who had certainly shown himself more than capable of delivering a good shock up to this point – throws in aggressive and creative gore. A bloody body rolling up a wall or a geyser of blood filling a room with gore might be a humble sight now but it was truly startling imagery in 1984. In some ways, it still is.

As good as “A Nightmare on Elm Street” is, it's undoubtedly dated in many ways. The synth score is kind of cheesy, especially once the rock n' roll guitars kick in. (And the end credits theme song is pure camp.) As dark as this story is, it's ultimately an adolescent tale of kids going on an adventure. The characters reflect these sometimes juvenile instincts. For example: What's an anachronistic greaser like Rod doing hanging out with good kids like Nancy and Tina? Though Nancy's resourcefulness is to be admired, her improvising a bunch of home-made weapons to fight Freddy feels a little silly, doesn't it? None of the young performers playing the teens give exactly studied performance, though Heather Langenkamp and Amanda Wyss have a girl-next-door charm and you can see some of that charisma that would one day make Johnny Depp a star. Then again, Wes knew what he was doing. I have no doubt his adventurous young heroes is a big reason why audiences connected with the film so much.

The film's story eventually collapses entirely into loosely defined dream logic and the interior rules of its universe never held up to much scrutiny. I don't think anyone has ever given a satisfying explanation for what exactly is happening in the last five minutes of the film. Yet when a movie gives the viewer so much to chew on, when it's so satisfying creepy and presents the world with such a phenomenal villain, who can complain? Taken totally separate from the franchise it would spawn, “A Nightmare on Elm Street” stands on its own as an expertly scary and very well-made horror film, then and now. [9/10]

The Flesh and the Fiends (1960)

The crimes of Burke and Hare have shown a continued hold on the imagination of filmmakers, at least in their native England. The morbid tale – of graverobbers becoming murderers, all for the benefit of medical science – has been adapted to the screen countless times over the decades. After 1945's thinly-veiled “The Body Snatcher,” producer John Gilling tried to make a movie directly about the two in 1948. British censorship laws demanded the real names be removed, turning “The Greed of William Hart” into a film merely inspired by the killers. Gilling tried again in 1960 with “The Flesh and Fiends” and was allowed to use the historical marquee names this time.

The year is 1828 and the place is Edenburgh, Scotland. Anatomical science is a rapidly growing field but the law limits the use of cadavers to the recently executed. This gives rise to the shadow economy of grave robbers. Dr. Knox is a controversial anatomist but attracts a loyal following from his students. William Burke and William Hare, a pair of drunk layabouts, have a lodger pass away on them. After selling the corpse to Knox, they make a pretty penny. They soon realize procuring dead bodies can be a profitable field. Fresher bodies fetch a higher price and, they realize soon enough, murder is easier than digging up graves.

Perhaps the reason the Burke and Hare story resonates so strongly with filmmakers is because of the innumerable things it says about human nature. “The Flesh and the Fiends” is clearly a story about class division. Dr. Knox occupies the upper echelons of society. The reality of his work forces him to interact with lower class miscreants like Burke and Hare. This idea is made even more obvious because of a subplot involving Knox's upper-crust assistant falling in love with a prostitute. It suggest that, when we're all down in the muck of sex and money, class doesn't matter so much. That, as much as it beloathes them to do so,  the rich are willing to put up with the poor if they have something to gain. You can even spin this message into a moral about the capitalism, how the push-and-pull of the free markets forces people to murder and tolerates their crimes, as long as they are valuable. (This is reflected in Burke's dying words on the gallows, how he wishes he had been paid for the last body, so he could die in a decent pair of trousers.) Yet, more accurately, “The Flesh and the Fiends” was reflecting a general fear about science being unshackled from common morality.

More than its societal concerns, “The Flesh and the Fiends” is an effectively moody horror picture. As depicted here, the cobblestone streets, tenement homes, and back alleys of 1820s Edinburgh seem simultaneously cramped and empty. It's an inhospitable world, full of sick faces in desolate locations. This creates an almost dream-like tone, the melodrama of the story playing out in a dark netherworld of gothic horror. The black-and-white photography is rift with shadows. When Burke commits the first murder, Hare chuckles and leaps in excitement, shadows dancing on the wall behind him. Hare graduates to murder himself, in a tense moment rift with sexual menace. When justice comes for the killers, it's via torches in a dark backroom. There's something powerful, striking, and unnerving about these images.

To horror fans, “The Flesh and the Fiends” will most be of interests because of its stars. This was Peter Cushing's first horror film after his work with Hammer made him a genre star. As Dr. Knox, sporting a drooping eyelid, Cushing creates a conceited man who pushes morality and science more for the sake of his own ego. A scene where he curses out his medical peers is especially notable. George Rose and Donald Pleasence play Burke and Hare. Rose depicts Burke as a simple man with no scruples at all, murdering as easily as he'd take a drink. Pleasence's Hare, meanwhile, delights in his own perversity. He gets a thrill out of his crimes, out of pushing the acceptable rules of society. This is the exact kind of sweaty freakiness Pleasence excelled at. While the subplot is largely disposable, John Cairney and Billie Whitlaw are very good as the student and his lower.

I was really with the film up until its ending, when the movie seems to completely shift its opinion on one of its key players. The Burke and Hare story has been directly adapted several times since. 1972's “Burke and Hare” is supposedly rather sleazy and at least partially comedic. I'm very intrigued by 1985's “The Doctor and the Devils,” more-or-less a remake of this film with a seriously stacked cast. John Landis would turn “Burke and Hare” into a romantic-comedy in 2010. Yet it seems “The Flesh and the Fiends” is the most highly regarded iteration. And I can see why. It's an effectively dreary and intense thriller. The cast is great and its black-and-white cinematography is excellent. [8/10]

Tales from the Cryptkeeper: Monsters Ate My Homework

Today's moral, kiddies? Don't lie or literal monsters will attempt to eat you. “Monsters Ate My Homework” follows Evan, a kid who lies with such grandiose frequency that he's actually become well-known in his school for his fibs. After Evan doesn't complete a particular homework assignment, his friends make a bet: If he can can convince the teacher that monsters ate his homework. Evan's melodramatics are so extreme, he actually does earn a few more days to do the work. Yet his lies end up summoning a pair of actual homework-eating creatures. When he can't provide them with an assignment to devour, they drag him to their monster-filled home dimension. 

“Monsters Ate My Homework” is, admittedly, the best episode of “Tales from the Cryptkeeper's” third season I've seen thus far. Low bar to clear, I know. The animation is slightly better than the last two episodes. The monsters' world at least comes sort of close to replicating the comic book-style backdrops of the first two seasons. The monster designs, colorful and hairy bugbears with horns and pig snouts, are mildly charming. Evan is clearly a budding sociopath, being so proud of his own lies, but he is far more charming a protagonist than those recently seen. The big orange monster having a classy, erudite accent is a decent gag. The moral is, of course, as heavy-handed as possible and I still hate the Cryptkeeper being directly involved with the plot. (He appears as the bus driver here and, while the students are alarmed an undead corpse is right in front of them, they still take it surprisingly well.) Still, considering the obvious level of quality we are working with this season, I'll take what I can get. [6/10]

Forever Knight: The Fire Inside

As I've mentioned before, I became a fan of “Forever Knight” when watching re-runs on the Sci-Fi Channel as a kid. “The Fire Inside” is one of the few episodes I can distinctly remember seeing this way. The episode concerns a serial killer calling himself the Dragon. Armed with a flame thrower, he plans on destroying Toronto's homeless population in fire. After finding a charred corpse on the street, Nick and Schanke follow the killer into the tunnels under the city. It seems Dragon is searching for a well-known community of the local homeless. This is especially dangerous for Nick, as vampires are vulnerable to fire. It triggers memories of time he saved slaves from manhunters hundreds of years ago.

Season two has really gone out of its way to give Nick more colorful criminals to pursue. The Dragon is probably the closest thing to a comic book supervillain he's fought thus far. He's always masked, monologues about his quest to murder the homeless, and uses a hugely impractical weapon. (As Schanke points out, there's nothing discreet about a flamethrower.) Not to mention he's an actually threat to the vampire, though Nick survives his arm catching ablaze easily. Setting most of the episode in dark, underground tunnels was a good idea though. It makes a flame-throwing maniac seem even more dangerous. The flashback sequences are well done too, as LaCroix wants to feed on the runaway slaves but Nick insists on helping them. Really, the only downside to this episode is an unnecessary subplot about Natalie getting squeamish around the burned bodies, as death-by-fire is a phobia of her's. It seems that was inserted largely to give Catherine Disher something to do. [7/10]