4 out of 5

Director: Wes Craven

A lot of classic movies inevitably disappoint.  It can be as a result of being jaded by the films that followed – though perhaps and probably influenced by your classic – or not understanding the tone or setting that made the film notable for its time.  And sometimes it’s just not your thing.  Classic horror movies are a whole separate case, as the genre is, on the whole, a somewhat tiny bag of tricks that directors and writers keep shaking to rearrange the contents.  You can watch your 70s gorefests and 80s slashers and 90s teen Screams and 00 Saws and count the tropes on a hand or two, often meaning you can plot the course of any given film.  There are exceptions, of course, but often I feel like we’re praising nostalgia more than the flick itself, and horror culture is also much more open about naming recognizable, accessible influences – thus saying film X was a tribute to Evil Dead will generally get you an automatic nod of approval, even though that comment might mean nothing when the films are held side by side.

Not to say there aren’t standards, but even shitty flicks have their place in horror history.

When I first got into horror, I tried to do my tour of the classics, and ‘Elm Street’ was part of that.  But I watched flicks with a tongue-in-cheek then, and so lil’ Johnny Depp and frequent dubbed lines and a geyser of blood struck me as silly and I didn’t quite get it.  Returning to it now, while the movie has its rough patches and a hearty dose of illogic and a narrow focus on just one kid and one family (some things I will credit the remake with trying to address) – its status as a classic makes perfect sense.

Previewing his treatment of Drew Barrymore in Scream, Craven immediately begins playing with our expectations by starting us off in the Kruger-haunted dreams of Tina, and lets our attachment to her grow over the film’s first few minutes to the extent that we’re sure she’s the main character, and – though she shares the same dreams – are seemingly unaffected by Nancy the carefree side character.  But he flips it on us with the great horror trope of sex = death, Tina suddenly partnering with the crass Rod during a sleepover party in her mother’s absence.  And then Tina’s death, which starts out with writhing, then thrashing, then gashes suddenly appearing across her flesh, then she’s flung to the ceiling and crashed about the room in a godawful bloody mess.

It’s a genius sequence, and its where Craven’s film succeeds over its peers and followers: an inability to creatively push the boundaries into that nightmarish realm – you’re almost laughing, it’s a little off, but you’re on edge because you don’t quite know how far it’s going to go…

The next hour and a half follows Nancy putting together the details of what’s what (pretty easily accepting that her dreams are haunted by a dead man) and failing to convince anyone else that its legit.  Some great makeup and costuming for Kruger covers up Englund’s / Craven’s otherwise campy handling of the character, and a cool synth soundtrack and continually imaginative images blending that dream / reality sensibility keep the flick moving forward.

Yes, the dream within a dream etc. ending is a little tedious, and I found it somewhat hilarious that in 20 minutes Nancy has an emotional chat with mum and rigs the whole house with traps, but the flick is, on the whole, a creepy blast, more respectful to its characters (and their intelligence) than the norm and not forgetting to crack a smile when need be.  Heather Langenkamp pitches Nancy as well balanced between distraught and brave and Craven makes pretty amazing use of his sets to bring suburban life to… life.  30 years on and the film holds up.  And to its credit at its ability to tap into deeper fears, the tame-by-Walking-Dead standards of blood and guts are besides the point when you have a creepy theme song and grubs that spurt from your wounds.