 You know that uncle that says questionable things and is maybe a little crazy? The one whose company you pretend to abhor like the rest of your family but with whom you're secretly fascinated? That uncle is FREDDY'S DEAD. Released in 1991 and directed by until-then producer Rachel Talalay, the film was met with hideous critical reception and a general sense of WTF. At the title suggests, this was meant as the final chapter in the blockbuster franchise, but despite those poor reviews, it pulled in enough dough to merit the sequel NEW NIGHTMARE, from which Wes Craven would mine his meta ideas and create a little known offering called SCREAM shortly after. But if Craven brought the films back to their more serious roots, then FREDDY'S DEAD was the tipping point. An entry so bat shit crazy, it more closely resembles a Looney Toons sketch than a horror film. To sum up the plot is a truly ludicrous task. You've got an unnamed amnesiac character, supposedly the last remaining Elm Street survivor, who finds his way to a shelter where he's treated by a psychologist experiencing the same dream—er, nightmares—as him. You've got a road trip back to Springwood (the very place our John Doe was running from) and a cast of fucked-up kids who are victims of early nineties fashion (the only actual horror element of the film). From there, it goes further off the rails, if indeed it was ever on them. First-time director Rachel Talalay took the film in a more comedic direction. That's not to say the prior movies were lacking in the LOL department. Freddy had already pounced from refrigerators, eaten soul pizzas, and who can forget about his jaunt as a superhero in THE DREAM CHILD? But parts one through five, no matter how esoteric, still maintained a somewhat serious tone. After all, we're talking about a child molester whose vigilante undoing signed a death sentence for dozens of teenagers. But Talalay finally edged Freddy into full-fledged roast master, with a never-ending supply of one liners. And while this may have been jarring for long-time fans, the transition makes total sense. Talalay's sensibilities lay much more in comedy than horror. Just take a look at her credits. She directed TANK GIRL, for crying out loud. And with each film edging closer to that fine line, it shouldn't have been a shock. But it was. And it is. Many Freddy fans, to this day, like to pretend this false ending doesn't exist. Not to the extent of the remake (what remake?) but it's prevailing opinion nonetheless. And I'm here to scream it from the mountain tops: FREDDY'S DEAD is freaking great. Is it a series highlight? Absolutely not. But it doesn't aim to be. It aims to take the story in a different, albeit ballsy direction, and, above all else, it strives to be in-fucking-sane. This is a film whose last ten minutes are in 3D for no apparent reason. A film that features cameos from Roseanne Barr, Tom Arnold, and—wait for it—Alice Cooper himself. A film where Freddy's first on-screen moment finds him riding a broom in homage to the Wicked Witch of the West. This movie ain't taking itself serious and neither should you. Anything can happen and nearly everything does. Speaking of Alice: according to a very snazzy NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET wiki page, Cooper's character is named Edward Underwood and is actually Freddy's adopted father. I'm not sure where this name came from, as he's technically uncredited, but maybe these rabid fans have access to some dark web script notes that I don't. He drinks a lot. He yells a lot. And he's fond of his belt, which he uses to whip a young Freddy into oblivion. Eventually, his son experiences a we're-not-gonna-take-it revelation and gives it right back. In the form of a straight razor to the eye. Cooper isn't given much screen time but his flashback scenes are some of the most crucial. They inform what I still believe to be an excellent plot twist even if there are plenty of less-than-subtle hints up to that point. Uncle FREDDY'S DEAD might be weird. Might be over the top. Heck, he might even be shunned by fans galore. But Uncle FREDDY'S DEAD is just misunderstood. He wants to have a good time. Wants to tell you all his whacky stories, some of which are in 3D because why not? Next time you see him, take that first step. Don't be shy. He's dying to recount his glory days, how he was meant to be a harbinger of doom but instead grossed enough to give way to another pivotal sequel. Maybe you'll learn to love him despite his flaws or maybe not. Either way, you're in for one hell of a ride.  BIO: Patrick Lacey was born and raised in a haunted house. He currently spends his nights and weekends writing about things that make the general public uncomfortable. He lives in Massachusetts with his Pomeranian and his muse, who is likely trying to kill him. Follow him on Twitter (@patlacey), find him on Facebook, or visit his website at https://patrickclacey.wordpress.com/.  
Comments are closed.
|
RSS Feed
|
|