VHS Week Day 4: ANGUISH (1987)

I am shocked–shocked, I tells ya–that it's taken me so long to see Anguish. Lo, it was a video store staple back in The Day. This GD cover haunted me from the shelves every time I went a-browsin', and my friends and I would rent anything remotely resembling a horror movie. Why oh why did I never take it home?

I kind of left it behind in the rental era; in recent years, whenever it'd enter my brain space, I'd think "Oh, I've seen that and I wasn't wild about it." However, that thought was actually regarding Monkey Shines–my brain done mixed up those striped monkey pants and the swirl over Zelda Rubenstein's face. Stupid brain! (side note: should I give Monkey Shines another chance?)

Anyway. Now, at long last, I have seen Anguish. To be honest, although the film had some surprises in store, my life pretty much feels the same as it used to.

Anguish starts out in Total Weirdsville as we meet Mother (Rubenstein) and John (Michael Lerner). They keep birds and snails in their cramped apartment. John eats his bananas-n-milk in a slurpy disgusting way...it's just one of those classic skeevy mommy and middle-aged son cinematic relationships. Things get weirder when mom busts out the hypnosis swirl and puts John in a bit of a trance, then sends him out to murder those who have slighted him in any way. He doesn't just murder them, though–he cuts out their eyeballs, rinses them off, and adds them to his collection.

We take a sharp turn into Oh That's Pretty Cooltown when it's revealed that we haven't been watching Anguish–we've been watching The Mommy alongside an audience. Yep, it's the ol' "movie within a movie" trick!

On-screen happenings bleed into real life as the hypnosis swirl induces nausea and odd behavior in viewers, and it's not long before an ardent Mommy fan begins killing off members the theater crowd. The two realities intertwine and we often can't tell if we're watching Anguish or The Mommy or both or neither. The obvious parallel to draw here is to Lamberto Bava's Demons; Anguish shares the nesting doll-style conceit and a similar feel, although it's more in the slasher vein than the supernatural. As viewers of The Mommy grew increasingly uncomfortable and cautiously looked around the dark theater in fear, it struck me that it must have been something to see Anguish on the big screen. All meta-like and shit, you know?

At times I hailed Anguish as a lost gem and lamented that it took me so long to discover it, particularly since I'd passed it over so many times when a-browsin'. It's got a creepy vibe, it's gross, it's a bitchin' idea...I was ready shout SEE ANGUISH NOW from the blogtops. By the time it was over, however, I was more than a bit fatigued. The film stagnates about 3/4 in as various bits are repeated and rehashed: one audience member cries and cries because The Mommy scares her so much, another one escapes and tries to convince a man to help her...these same few scenes play out again and again and you just want Anguish to get on with it already. So look, I'm not shouting "see Anguish now" but I will definitely say it. Although it may not be a lost gem, it's absolutely a lost novelty that deserves a look. And I had some seriously bloody dreamception dreams after watching it last night where I could no longer discern whether or not I was actually awake–maybe Zelda Rubenstein's hypnosis swirl worked on me after all!

VHS Week Day 3: MIKEY (1992)

Reader, I am hollow. Mikey was exactly what I expected it would be, and yet here I am, unsatisfied. I feel like a big whiny loser who never gets anything she wants, and yet I also feel like a big whiny winner who gets everything she wants. It's as if I sit atop a pile of jewels–the biggest pile of jewels in all the world–and instead of doing log rolls down the pile and laughing with utter delight, I simply rest my chin in my hand for I've realized that it's all meaningless. How could Mikey reduce me to such? Why, but a few days ago I was all set to turn this place into a Mikey blog!

Ultimately, I think it's just that Mikey brings absolutely nothing new or unusual to the table. It hits every familiar beat in the "killer kid" genre and the "stranger in my house" genre, and unless this is the first film you've ever seen, you know exactly what will happen. Stop me if you've heard this one a million times...

• Mikey kills his family but acts the victim when the cops show 
• Mikey acts all sweetness and light, fooling the cops, the social worker, the psychiatrist, and his new adoptive parents
• Everything's great, Mikey is a dream child
• Mikey doesn't get what he wants and starts acting up
• A friend of the family thinks Mikey is really bad and probably killed his last family
• No one believes Friend of the Family, so she digs around in Mikey's history and find some evidence, then goes to present said evidence
• BUT IT'S TOO LATE THE JIG IS UP MIKEY HAS FLIPPED
• Fight fight fight
• It's over, it's finally over
• OR IS IT 

Mikey hits all of these notes in a perfectly serviceable made-for-TV-esque fashion. The cast is full of familiar faces and the acting is, you know, equally serviceable: Hellraiser's Ashley Laurence is here, along with a few "hey I've seen that person in a bunch of things" actors and actresses. Former child star Brian Bonsall manages to do both the "I'm sweet" and "I'm evil" things well enough. And you've got JOSIE BISSETT OF TELEVISION'S MELROSE PLACE AND ALSO THE LIFETIME MOVIE BABY MONITOR: SOUND OF FEAR, whose star power deserves all those capital letters as far as I'm concerned. And then there's the kid from a bunch of 90s trash flicks (like A Nightmare on Elm Street 5), the one who looks like Courteney Cox in Springsteen's "Dancing in the Dark" video.

I mean, it's all fine. You know? But when the killer kid bar has been set so high...when you've got murderous solar eclipse babies and possessed kids and the spawn of Satan out there...you've just gotta do something to stand out. "All fine" may be all fine, but it certainly does not stand out. Bonsall was just a kid and so I can't necessarily expect the sort of intense performance you get in a similar thriller like The Stepfather. Maybe some extra special murders? I don't know. I feel weird being all blasé and not finding a kid beating his dad to death with a baseball bat to be enough of a thrill, but here we are. It's so lonely and boring here atop all these jewels!

VHS Week Day 2: THE OLD DARK HOUSE (1932)

On a brutally stormy night, five rain-soaked travelers seek shelter in a gloomy Welsh manor that's home to the wildly eccentric Femm family. In short order we're introduced to brother Horace, who seems more afraid of dangers lurking within the house than those without; sister Rebecca, who warns against "fleshly love" and all manner of blasphemy; towering, mute, disfigured manservant Morgan; withered, bedridden patriarch Sir Roderick; and...whomever is locked away in a tiny room on the top floor.

Winds howl, floorboards creak, candlelight flickers, and shadows loom large as the night wears on. Horace grows increasingly fearful and paranoid as he refuses to wander upstairs. Tales of murder, suicide, and sinful siblings abound. Despite a warning that Morgan can't touch alcohol as he's a violent drunk, Morgan gets drunk. Then he unlocks that door on the top floor.

Yes indeed, The Old Dark House is at times truly suspenseful, a classic...well, a classic old dark house picture. It's particularly remarkable that with this film, James Whale simultaneously creates a genre and provides a cheeky take on the same. Sure, sure, there are frights lurking about here and there. but even more prevalent are the laughs: it's as much a black comedy as it is gothic thriller. (Incidentally, Whale would perfect this combination a few years later in Bride of Frankenstein.)

The Femm house is full of secrets and weirdos alike, and the result is a film that feels way ahead of its time. Gender-bent casting (though billed as John Dudgeon, it's Elspeth Dudgeon who portrays Sir Roderick), gay subtext, talk of sex and sin, piousness and atheism render The Old Dark House positively transgressive. It never quite approaches camp levels, but it teeters on the brink. Actors have a grand old time with the material, in particular Ernest Thesiger, who would reunite with Whale and give a memorable performance in Bride. Here, as Horace, he's an absolute delight who manages to make "Have a potato" a line worth quoting forever and always.

While The Old Dark House is certainly lauded, it also tends to be a bit overlooked when the great Universal horror films are discussed. It's the sibling locked away in the rafters, the oddball who doesn't quite fit in with the rest of the family...but really, that just means that it needs–and deserves–even more love and attention. Have a potato!

VHS Week Day 1: INCUBUS (1966)

Before I popped Incubus in my VCR, I popped on my Coat of Many Questions.

• There are plenty of great languages to choose from, including English, French, and Klingon; why in the frig was Incubus filmed in Esperanto? 
• Incubus is billed as a "long lost cult classic." It was missing in action for about 30 years, but a print was found and restored and should it have remained long lost and is it really a cult classic?
• William Shatner?

Now that I've popped Incubus back in its cardboard sleeve, allow me to pop on my Coat of Many Answers.

• Unlike English, French, or Klingon, Esperanto is an artificial/invented language. Incubus is largely an allegorical tale, and Esperanto (supposedly) helps create an "otherworldly" feel.
• I don't think it's a cult classic–it's more of a footnote "Oh yeah, that Esperanto movie." It doesn't really get the affection afforded cult classics, does it? I don't think the Cool Kids have paid it much mind, with or without irony. I'll say it, though: I'm glad it's long lost no longer.
• Well. *shrug* 

Kia (Allyson Ames) is a beautiful young succubus who's quite good at her job: leading corrupt men to their dooms so the Lord of Darkness can claim their souls. She's feeling restless, however, and realizes she's stagnated on her career path. Where's the challenge in seducing these men if they're already hellbound? It doesn't really speak to her demonic skills, she's just sort of expediting the process. But to corrupt a man who is pure of heart? To lure him to the dark side? Now that would get her name engraved on the Succubus of the Month plaque in Hell's employee break room. Surely she'd gain the notice of her master and, like, get a promotion or something.

She sets her sights on Marc (Shatner), a pure-of-heart war vet who lives with his sister on a small farm near a healing spring. Kia arranges a meet cute, pretending to be lost, and before five minutes pass she and Marc are making out and Marc declares his love for her. Kia proposes they get naked together ASAP, but Marc insists on marriage first.

And so the battle of the wills commences. Good and evil duke it out, but who will prevail? Will Kia successfully corrupt Marc with evil, or will he corrupt her with love? Along the way to the answer, we're treated to a solar eclipse, the birth of an incubus, some good old fashioned virgin defilement, a star turn by one of Black Phillip's ancestors, and liberal use of a fog machine.

As I said, Incubus is meant to be an allegory, a myth, a fairy tale; characters are archetypes who talk about Big Ideas. Unfortunately, in terms of the script this simply means that characters will repeatedly talk about good and evil and good vs evil and souls and love and evil and good and souls and I'm sure you get it. The seriously honeybaked ham-fisted dialogue that's made all the worse by the Esperanto, which feels as stilted and unnatural as you might imagine, and clunky conversations are rendered...super clunky.

So why I am glad Incubus was saved from history's slush pile of the lost and the damned? Because thanks to the work of Oscar-winning cinematographer Conrad Hall (In Cold Blood, Marathon Man), this film is frequently stunning to behold and nearly achieves the arthouse vibe sought by writer/director Leslie Stevens.

It's a real beaut, and I daresay that if the script and acting had been a smidge better ("Oh, is that all?" - you)–or maybe if Esperanto had truly taken the world by storm–Incubus might truly be a cult classic, lauded alongside films like Carnival of Souls.

What can I say, Incubus has plenty of shortcomings, but sometimes Satanism wrapped in a pretty package is all it takes for me to be well satisfied. This film led me to my doom quite easily, thank you!

Adjust your tracking...

...and gird your loins, my friends, for on Monday begins...

It's true! I found a bunch of tapes in a box in a closet and what good are they if they are not getting in my eyeballs ASAP? None, no good at all, that's what I say. So now we will all be treated–"treated"–to a whopping 14 days of VHS delights and garbage.

"14 days," you say. "Does she not know how many days constitute a week? Has she never heard of a fortnight? Does she not know how to add?"

The answer to all of those questions is NO, but that's beside the point. The point is, come Monday I'm gonna VHS until my brain melts. If you've got any interest in what I'll be writin' 'bout when–assuming, you know, all the tapes work–here's the schedule. Add it to your Palm Pilot so you don't miss a hot minute!

Mon 5/2 - INCUBUS (1966, Leslie Stevens)
Tues 5/3 - THE OLD DARK HOUSE (1932, James Whale)
Wed 5/4 - MIKEY (1992, Dennis Dimster)
Thur 5/5 - ANGUISH (1987, Bigas Luna)
Fri 5/6 - THE BIRD WITH THE CRYSTAL PLUMAGE (1970, Dario Argento)
Sat 5/7 - THE HOUSE THAT DRIPPED BLOOD (1971, Peter Duffell)
Sun 5/8 - RABID (1977, David Cronenberg)
Mon 5/9 - THE GRANNY (1995, Luca Bercovici)
Tues 5/10 - PARASITE (1982, Charles Band)
Wed 5/11 - DIE! DIE! MY DARLING! (1965, Silvio Narizzano)
Thur 5/12 - THE HAUNTING OF JULIA (1977, Richard Loncraine)
Fri 5/13 - THE NIGHT EVELYN CAME OUT OF THE GRAVE (1971, Emilio Miraglia)
Sat 5/14 - THE ATTIC (1980, George Edwards & Gary Graver)
Sun 5/15 - MARTIN (1977, George A. Romero)

Why, there's some good, classic stuff in the list that I can't wait to watch. Yes, I'm talking about Mikey. It stars Josie Bissett of television's Melrose Place, of course I'm excited about it. Hmm, now that I think about it, I should just do 14 days of Mikey!

"I love you. I really love you."

Whether you are an American or not, if you're following the political scene here in the United States–I mean, how can you avoid it?–then you're likely mortified, depressed, terrified, nonplussed, and just plain worn the fuck out. Then you remember the election is still 236 days away and you think about renting a convertible, finding the nearest canyon, and Thelma-and-Louise-ening yourself into sweet oblivion. On the other hand, you don't really feel like leaving the house today so you simply opt to curb your Internetting and social mediaing. You should probably do that regardless.

On the upside of this garbage, all the recent AIDS in the Reagan era news talk got me thinkin' about and revisiting Todd Haynes's other Carol* in 1995's Safe.

I fully admit, when I saw Safe in theaters back in The Day, I wasn't super satisfied. I was disappointed, even. I didn't get it. Mind you, that reaction had more to do with my own preconceived notions of what the film would be than with any of its actual shortcomings, if it even has any. But I went into it expecting some horror-flavored Outbreak-style disease flick (we all had contagious illness fever back then, you see), and Safe...isn't that, despite the fact that Carol White has an environmental/chemical sensitivity and sickness. Or does she?

Safe asks that question of the viewer, and many more besides. The truth and right-or-wrong of everything is kept just out of reach, constantly teasing, and it remains that way until the last frame. All of those questions raised and not a single answer given–what frustrated me upon first viewing ("Where are the exploding faces and people bleeding out, dammit?!") now tantalizes. I gave the film a second chance a few years ago and it clicked and since then, I've delighted in unraveling the layers, plucking at all the threads to see where they lead.

While Carol Aird of Carol and Carol White of Safe are both women concerned with identity and finding their place in the world, they approach these issues from radically different places. Carol Aird knows who she is and what she wants, it's simply a matter of having the courage to claim both and live true to herself. Carol White, on the other hand, hardly exists. She takes up no space. Her voice barely projects–she speaks not from her diaphragm, but from the slightest vibration at that top of her vocal cords. You can be sure she leaves no impression on a mattress when she gets off of it. She is dwarfed by her monstrously large upper middle class surroundings, by her marriage, by everything.

It's easy to read her sudden illness as a rejection of all of this as she tries to finally figure herself out, but again, Todd Haynes doesn't give us such a nice, neat little metaphorical package. We're never given any indication that Carol has an inner life or engages in soul searching whatsoever, and ultimately it's impossible to gauge her motivations. She is simply an empty vessel adrift. She was isolated in her domestic life, but she only leaves it to find herself further isolated–this time quite literally, as she takes to living in a germ-free domicile in a remote desert community of like-minded sufferers. Is she now happy? What does happiness mean to Carol White? Would she even recognize it?

By 1995, Julianne Moore was beginning to emerge as an Actress of Note, One to Watch after turns in Short Cuts and The Hand That Rocks the Cradle–and she is remarkable in Safe. Moore and Haynes provide a great example of that wondrous and rare director-actress synergy that is so rewarding to watch. She knows this character, she gets what he's written, and he lets her work. Every frame of the thing is worth savoring and the production design...it is perfectly 1987. The colors, the puffiness! A nightmare in pastel.

If you've yet to see Safe, fucking see Safe already. I realized in that theatre that it's not "horror", but in the years since I've figured out that it's existentially horrifying, so what's the difference? Play it fast and loose with genre conventions, man, and unravel those threads.


*YES I am still completely obsessed with Carol and I am sure I always will be, so you just count yourself lucky if I don't go ahead and turn this dump into a Carol blog once and for all

The Final Frame

Haven't done one of these in quite a while! This is the final frame from which horror film?

"Relax...I'm not some kind of crazy killer."

Can you guys believe that Killer Workout has been on DVD and Blu-ray for longer than one minute and I have not upgraded from my VHS copy? Can you also believe that I've talked about it so much but have never properly reviewed it? What is even wrong with me?

This question slapped me right in my face earlier today when Jason, having been recently touched by the film for the very first time, inducted Killer Workout into his long-running "Thursday's Ways Not To Die" series at My New Plaid Pants.

His post got me thinkin' about it, dang it. I need to slap on a leotard ("No, you don't!" -- everyone) and make the jump to modern disc-based technology so I can post some screencaps and gifs and finally, finally do a Killer Workout masterpost.

I am glad, however, that Jason giffed this moment, for it's one of my favorite moments in the film. Just another gal caught playin' with a jockstrap!

Oh my God, I love Killer Workout.

It's voterin' time!

So I'm perusing my local Redbox selections (maybe I'll rent The Visit? Maybe Truth, though. Or Sicario? Nasty Baby? maybe I won't go outside?) and I come across this movie:

Okay, sure. I'm not interested in the film or learning anything about it or what the plot is or if you've seen it and here's what you think or whatever. I've just decided not to dedicate any of my brain space to this particular film–all apologies to everyone involved in making it–but if you saw it and liked it, that's great.

However, I have decided to dedicate way too much of my brain to that title and whether it means 1) Grandpa is a psycho, or 2) Grandpa has a psycho. The tagline doesn't much help by way of hints! So mysterious, this Grandpa's Psycho. Let's solve this one with a tried-and-true method: an online poll!

Is Grandpa a psycho, or does Grandpa *have* a psycho?

Grandpa is a psycho

Grandpa has a psycho

Look, call me when it's "Grandpa vs Norman Bates"

No

Do Quizzes

I'm excited to find out what you decide! Also, I am unsure why the poll widget is aggressively wide, but what can you do.

Also also, speaking of voting, Final Girl is nominated for a Rondo Award! This is indeed an honor and I am grateful for the nomination. If you want to vote then by all means, clicken ze click click. However, if there's one thing that Carol not getting nominated for Best Picture proves, it's that all awards–every last one of them!–are a total sham. So you can just take your "#1 Dad" coffee mug and your "Best Mom" throw pillow and throw them in the garbage! (But thanks for the Rondo nomination just the same.)

A Tribute to...

...guys chopping wood in horror movies!

There's a scene in The Witch where William gets his wood choppin' on, and when it happened I thought to myself..."Hmm. That is a thing in horror movies!" and then I went back to concentrating on The Witch because it is so good. I know, I know! I am a deep thinker. But you know what, it is a thing. The menfolk got the rage inside of 'em, you see, and those feelings need sublimatin'. The only way they can let them out beyond, like, killing their family or other folks is to get sweaty, to sometimes take off their shirts, and chop the fuck outta some wood. Yay!

Unless, of course, you're Friday the 13th's Steve Christy, in which case you're not chopping because you're angry, it's just that there's a shit ton of stuff to do before Camp Blood reopens.

(The Witch gif courtesy of pal Jason of My New Plaid Pants)

Ye gvd of Masfachusets Bay Colanee and oyerwise

Think not on the Fear that lyes vpon yy head and heart. Trust Yyself, Trust The VVitch, vnburthen Yyself and seest svch Entertaynments for the bettering of thy mind.

Or something. Basically I am still unpacking my thoughts and feelings about The Witch too much to write anything resembling a proper (or even proper-ish) review, but I thought I would chime in here to say that I loved it. So there.

...uh, Movie Poster Friday

What in the puking nun HELL is this?

Okay, whoa whoa, I am going to pump the brakes on my hate. While nothing has ever made me feel older and less "with" "it" than this instagram motif nonsense, there is a part of me that digs it. Well, I dig the idea of it, at least. Maybe not quite as a poster, but as a marketing tactic, sure. Look at The Blair Witch Project–social media and La Internette can surely be used to great ends to make a movie feel ALIVE, ALIVE, ALIVE. (Man, I have a hankerin' to watch The Funhouse.)

However.

If you are going to come up with this "look at my new house, we are moving in!" idea, marketing people, then for fuck's sake...please spring for some actual photography so it looks as if "Rebelleous99" has taken an actual picture of an actual house and an actual moving truck. As it stands, it looks as if she found some Amityville fanart and right-clicked that shit.

On the other hand, it also looks like something Thomas Kinkade might have shat out whilst being tormented in the pits of Hell, and I'm into that.

Wanna feel old?

The It's Alive baby is all grown up. Here's what he looks like now!

The Nightmare-ening Day 8: Time to Wake Up

Well friends, The Nightmare-ening is over and I believe my faculties are largely intact. It went pretty much the way I expected it to–I love Part 3, dislike everything after that to varying degrees, Part 2 is super gay...I think the big surprise was that I didn't hate the remake. Sure, sure, it gets a shit ton of stuff wrong, but I dig the stuff it gets right. And given how much I loathe the other Platinum Dunes remakes, saying "I didn't hate it" is like giving it a hundred Oscars.

Before wrapping this up, I thought back on the gallery of awful Michael Myers masks I posted once upon a time. Surely there are awful Freddy Krueger masks, I thought. Why, if I find some I will make a gallery of them. Just as I suspected, there are some awful Freddy Krueger masks out there, such as this Chiclet-riddled number.

But in the midst of my Googling, I found something better than awful Freddy Krueger masks, and that something better is dogs dressed up like Freddy Krueger. Let's have a gallery of those, shall we? And also, let's start an internet petition for Freddy to come back in A Nightmare on Elm Street 7: Dream Dog. In the movie, he will be a dog. (spoiler)

Bonus Round! (And ideas for A Nightmare on Elm Street Parts 8 and 9)

Oh! Just a programming note: if you followed Final Girl using Twitter, Yahoo, openID, or anything basically not Google, you can no longer follow/sign into Google Friend Account via those providers. You need a Google account! So if you want to follow Final Girl by adding it to your reading list, getcherself a Google account and connect, baby. The link is over there on the right somewhere near the top of the page.

The Nightmare-ening Day 7: A NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET (2010)

I'm not sure if it's because I've watched so many garbage Elm Street movies in such a short period of time, or if maybe there's a gas leak in my apartment, or what but I have to just say it: A Nightmare on Elm Street 2010 isn't nearly as bad as I'd heard it was, nor as bad as I expected it to be. I bet there's some kind of lesson in there about "judging things for yourself" and "internet opinions." But in my internet opinion, this remake gets some things wrong, sure, but it also gets a lot of things right.

(I can't believe I'm saying that about a Platinum Dunes movie for Charles Nelson Reilly's sake...am I getting soft?)

The single biggest thing the film gets right, of course, is this attempt at reviving the 80s horror movie trend where ladies wore sports jerseys as pajamas. Bravo, remake! If only you gave us a moustache or two...

Anyway. The gist of A Nightmare on Elm Street stays true to the original: Freddy Krueger haunts the dreams of several high schoolers in Springwood, Ohio. If Freddy kills them in their dreams, they die in real life. He's motivated by a lust for revenge and a love of murder (aren't we all?) because a mob of unruly vigilante Elm Street parents burned him alive years earlier.

This 21st century incarnation of Krueger isn't a child murderer who escaped justice due to a technicality, however; this Freddy is a child molester who is subjected to mob justice once the children tell of his crimes. That is some surprisingly heavy shit, and it gives a depressing, fucking icky tone to the entire affair. Audiences who have fond memories of (sigh) "Welcome to prime time, bitch!" and Freddy donning sunglasses to crack wise on MTV must have found all of this a shock. Horror fans have long rooted for the bad guys thanks to the outrageous kills they inflict on insipid, "deserving" characters...but you just can't root for a child molester. I applaud the film for daring to go there; finally Freddy Krueger is as reprehensible as he should be. An even darker nightmare, perhaps, is that his return marks the return of the memories the Elm Street children have long repressed. This is not a "good time" slasher flick.

Alas, alack, in the details the remake occasionally falters, sometimes egregiously so.

What do you do, say, when you're tasked with remaking a classic horror film that features some of the genre's most indelible moments? Do you ape them, or try to put your own spin on them? I'm not sure what the right answer is; director Samuel Bayer, however, elected to do both. Some iconic moments are simply recreated, and I'm not entirely sure what the honest effect of these moments is like. As an Elm Street Oldie Hawn, I simply nod in recognition. In 1984, I was scared and startled by them.

Other times, Bayer tries something new to much lesser effect. CGI nonsense aside, Freddy emerging from the side all washed out in brown is not nearly as impactful as when he looms over Nancy from the darkness.

Where the Nightmare remake lets us and itself down the most, however, is with its treatment of Nancy. The original Nancy is one of horror's greatest Final Girls, so "into survival" that she determinedly takes control of a terrible situation as she tries to save her own life and the lives of her friends. She literally turns her back on the monster as she reclaims any bit of power she gave him. She's a strong-willed hero, dammit, and she's only 15.

It seems that perhaps someone wanted to play with the Final Girl trope in Nightmare 2010, if only to toy with veteran audience expectation. I've got no issues with changing up a trope, but if you're going to do it, make it worthwhile. Here, Nancy is simply a milquetoast slice of nothingness, more like the type of nameless slasher victim who gets killed early on rather than the hero and main character. There's a bit of an attempt to give Nancy some depth–instead of simply being a dork with a boyfriend, she's an artistic loner–and while actress Rooney Mara's inherent strangeness works for the character to an extent, there's simply nothing interesting for her Nancy to say or to do and most of the time she comes off as bored with the entire affair. Ultimately she isn't saved by her own pluck and ingenuity, but by a fella, dammit. Then she gets one of those "cool" one-liners and ugh, you guys. While I guess you could technically say that original Nancy also had a one-liner to end her face off with Freddy, it wasn't so..."horror movie." If as much care and attention and effort had been given to Nancy (not to mention the other characters) as had been given to Freddy's new backstory, this remake really could have been something.

It's frustrating because the film is so bold in some respects and so dull in others. It's not just the characters, it's the weirdness of the dream world–and, I am absolutely not talking about people turning into meatballs or any "wizard master" cheesiness. I mean in the 1984 film, the world of nightmares was reality skewed: think Freddy's arms extending to impossible lengths in the alleyway or the random appearance of a bleating goat or some such. Perhaps in the remake they're trying to make the point that the characters are so exhausted they literally can't discern dreams from reality, I don't know...but when the nightmares look like waking life (but a little bit grimier), it makes A Nightmare on Elm Street little more than a regular slasher flick and that's a shame.

Still, I can't say I didn't enjoy it because I did, so there. Maybe more so because of what it tried to do and what it could have been than what it actually was. Maybe it's because I suffered through Freddy's Dead yesterday and watching the bottom of my foot for 90 minutes today would have been more enjoyable. Or maybe Elm Street 2010 isn't that bad? Hmm, maybe I need to read some more internet opinions before I make up my mind.

P.S. why does Kyle Gallner always look so sad in everything