A Nightmare on Elm Street Makes TOO Much Sense

Remember the good ol' days when it didn't matter if a horror movie villain was a disgruntled son in a hockey mask or a burnt-to-a-crisp child murder, as long as he was terrorizing half-naked teenagers by slicing them up in new and ridiculous ways?  It didn't matter where they came from, we were just glad they were angry.

Perhaps it was the pratical origin revamp of Batman Begins, or simply screenwriters and their ongoing quest to maintain dignity and write something with brains, but those days of aimless slashing are over.   No, now horror needs logic, grit and realism.  Thanks to Michael Bay and his processing plant Platinum Dunes, it's those qualities that trigger an implosion in their lackluster remake of A Nightmare on Elm Street.

The original Nightmare's formula (which definitely holds up and remains one of the scarier movies of its kind) is repurposed in the remake for the Millenial generation; instead of names like Rod and Tina, now we have numbskulls like Quentin and Kris.  It's hip.  Other than that, the writers stick to what works (and what we've seen before): Nancy (the lovely and wasted Rooney Mara) and friends try and outrun the murderous Freddy Krueger, who's picking them off one by one in their dreams.  Staying awake is priority number one.

Scenes are plucked directly from the original (practically Psycho remake-style), upgraded with top-notch special effects.  Instead of slowly emerging from Nancy's wallpaper, the imprinted face of Kruger can now zoom out into full form, then quickly retract before his victim blinks an eye. 

Nightmare abandons the slow burn of the original's dream world, instead favoring whip pans, crass music cues and cheap "phew, there's nothing in the mirror, I think I'll wash my fa-HOLY CRAP THERE'S SOMETHING IN THE MIRROR!" moments.  You'll be jumping in your seat - but only because the THX sound system's causing your spine to twitch.

And Freddy?  Gone is the campy direction of the later Nightmare films, replaced by a "real" Freddy Krueger (Jackie Earle Haley), a burn victim with a back-story.  A suspected child molester turned dream-invader, Krueger's new melted look is representative of actual burn victims, but gives Earle Haley zero facial movement or expression, forcing him to mumble his unavoidable one-liners.  Even as a sympathetic character, Freddy still makes jokes about wet dreams.

Director Samuel Bayer comes from a world of music videos and commercials, and it's apparent.  There's a reason why the ads for Nightmare look fantastic...it's shot like one big ad.  The flick is glossy, slick and clean...but rarely scary.  The "grit" comes from its real world logic, which it toys with only to push aside in favor of ridiculous kills and moments of fan service.

Problem is, you can't ask for both.  You can't dive into the real world consequences of child molestation and the fearmongering of irresponsible parents then ask your audience to cheer for a guy who thrusts his clawed hand through a girl's stomach.  It's a movie that makes no sense because it tries to make sense.

But, hey, a bunch of people get killed, maybe I'm thinking too much.  I just wanted to have fun.