A NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET review: the sins of the father

A NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET review: the sins of the father

May 21

I’m not big on horror. The scariest films I can remember seeing are The Thing, Rosemary’s Baby, and The Exorcist. The youngest of those is 30 years old. I haven’t seen the “classics,” the string of teen slasher flicks from the 80s, or the post-modern Scream-style stuff from the 90s; I’m most familiar with the 21st century torture porn / half-arsed reboot school of horror cinema. So what the hell do I know about horror flicks?

I fancy I’ve seen enough movies to be able to tell the difference between a good flick and a bad flick. People often ask (when critics rail against their favourite movie) what the point of criticism is; pointing out that explaining a film’s flaws makes very little impact on the film’s financial business (see: Transformers, Twilight, etc.).

I like to think that critics serve a couple of functions: one, to dissuade punters from one movie and urge them into a different theatre, saving them time and misery; and two, so that in a hundred years people can look back and ask “What was civilisation like in the early 21st century? What values did they have? What kinds of entertainment did they like?” Because, let’s face it, your illiterate tweets about how awesome Twilight: Eclipse is hold less weight than thought-out reviews penned by educated folk who make their living watching movies, don’t they? Note that I’m not a “critic” — it’s not my job to review films; I’m just a guy with a conscience and a keyboard.

Let the records show that A Nightmare On Elm Street (2010) is one of the worst crimes ever committed to celluloid. What few redeeming features it has are buried beneath incoherent storytelling, an inept script and inane characters. It’s almost like Platinum Dunes are going for a perfect 100% broken movie streak. There is literally nothing about this film that I can recommend; every element of it is broken and stupid. Read on if you want to know why.

Horror is about being scared, right? There are many ways to make you jump and cringe, but that’s not really scary, is it? A cat jumping onto your face in the middle of the night can make you jump, and catching a bit of a medical procedure on TV is enough to make you cringe. What horror’s really about is the psychological effects of the unknown, of darkness playing on your mind, of the doubt and terror of facing insurmountable odds. So why the fuck is there a well-lit close-up of Freddy Krueger five minutes into this film? Congratulations, the mystery and tension are now dead.

Horror should contain relatable characters, fabricated people in whom you can see reflections of yourself. So why the fuck do the five main characters in the film most resemble drug-addled 20-something clothing models? There is nothing compelling about dickheads and bimbos who constantly make stupid decisions for no other reason than to drag out the film’s running time. Watching them die is almost a relief — oh, is that the point? That the killings are supposed to be justified because the protagonists are all dickheads? Dehumanising the enemy is what happens during a war, not a two-hour slab of entertainment.

Horror should be driven by rational, intelligent decisions that are nevertheless overwhelmed by the sheer otherness of the situation. Not so in A Nightmare On Elm Street. Every time a character makes a decision in A Nightmare On Elm Street, it’s the wrong one. Instead of seeking professional scientific help, the teens consult the internet, resulting in some patently false medical information regarding sleep deprivation and insomnia. Instead of asking their parents for help, the teens lock themselves in their rooms overnight and try to stay awake for days at a time. Instead of immediately reporting a violent murder, a character flees the scene and attempts to evade the police. Things obviously don’t go well for him, or for the audience, who has to endure his stupid decisions.

Horror should not shy away from the horrific. In A Nightmare On Elm Street, the single most terrifying thought in the film — the subject of child abuse — is used merely as a plot device. Any film that uses something as sensitive and serious as child abuse as a trivial plot point should be treated with nothing but scorn and disdain. The film even pulls punches in its depiction of the abuse — the audience doesn’t know if it’s sexual in nature, as several key photographs are withheld from the camera’s lens — as if trying to shuffle along and ignore the trauma and true horror of child abuse. This is contemptible.

Horror should be scary. Jump-scares do not constitute “scary.” Ask Steven Spielberg — there are two jump-scares in Jaws: the first one (where the dead guy drifts out of the boat) was extremely effective, while the second one (the shark’s big reveal) was a lot less effective, because the audience was wary now, after the first jump-scare. A Nightmare On Elm Street is literally built out of jump-scares. Not a single one of them is effective, because they are all telegraphed a mile away by ominous silence and extended tracking shots. And that’s as scary as Elm Street ever attempts to be.

Horror films should make sense, because a coherent evil is more frightening than an incompetent one. The backstory behind Freddy Krueger is one of the worst I’ve ever heard. I don’t know if it’s the same one as in the 80s namesake, but this one is mind-bogglingly stupid. There isn’t even some woo-woo explanation for how Krueger gets in the kids’ heads — he’s just there, so there may as well not be any bullshit about a gardener and a kindergarten in the first place. The whole plot hinges on the kids not remembering their pre-school year; the drugs they seem to be addled with must be pretty strong then, because I can remember quite a bit from my sixth year on this Earth, and I like to think that if some crazy gardener cut me back then I’d fucking remember it.

As a film, regardless of its genre, A Nightmare On Elm Street is weak at best. The dialogue is as wooden as Noah’s Ark, and the delivery would embarrass even George Lucas. The pace is unforgivable slow, and Freddy Krueger still manages to pop up about a dozen times more than he needs to. The music goes for mysterious and melodic when it should just shut up and let the scenes do the talking. Some of the photography is neat, and a great job has been done grading the film, but some of the effects — especially Freddy Krueger’s make-up — are a bit disappointing. Photos I’ve seen of the original Freddy make him look mischievous and fun. Krueger 2010 looks like a real burns victim, which is just sad, not creepy.

I can not for the life of me comprehend how or why these movies continue to be made. That movies like this that are disingenuous in just about every way — plot, setting, characters, conflict — that don’t make any sense, don’t have any flashes of wit or creativity, still manage to make back more than their budget. The trailer for this flick was misleading in that it was actually pretty good, but it had to spoil the majority of the film to cobble together all the good bits. So if you’re planning to see this film based on the trailer, don’t.

Most movies that I watch and dislike completely fail to ellicit an emotional response from me. Sometimes, if they’re just bad enough, they’re kind of funny in their badness. But A Nightmare On Elm Street made me feel genuinely angry. I was offended by how absolutely dreadful the movie is — right up to the final frames, too — and enraged by how stupid the film assumed I was. I’m sure director Samuel Bayer is a nice fellow with genuine enthusiasm and creativity, but if he thinks this movie is anything other than a fetid failure of filmmaking, his ego must be bigger than the moon.

A Nightmare On Elm Street score:

02/100