A small diner that either can't afford light bulbs or specializes in pancakes under mood lighting is where the story opens. Some guy who looks vaguely like somebody out of Twilight can't sleep.He's clearly been up for days. He can sleep, he just doesn't want to. A few seats away, other all too pretty teens are fussing about something. Suddenly the first guy freaks out, and seemingly offs himself with a kitchen knife. What's worse, he forgot to leave a tip.
Soon, more kids start complaining about their sleep patterns, or lack thereof. A mysterious, clawed figure in an ugly striped sweater that looks like it was ripped from the Marshall's catalogue has been stalking their dreams. But who is he? Why has he chosen them? Do they all share some sort of unknown connection? All they know is that if he kills you in your sleep, you die for real.
As more people begin to fall under Freddy's assault, a disturbing conspiracy is revealed. One that encompasses nearly the entire town. It's here that we're treated to Krueger's fiery beginnings, and arguably the film's one saving grace. One of the reasons Krueger worked so well in the first few Nightmare movies was that he was the worst possible type of offender, a killer of the innocent. You have to remember that at the time of it's release, America was in the grips of a pedophilia fear frenzy, with accusations being hurled about seemingly every other day. To have a character that essentially fed off the pain of children was horrifying and fed into people's paranoia.
The revelation of Krueger's origin also throws an ambiguous moral twist into what had been a straight forward slasher up to that point. Was Freddy truly guilty? Are his actions justified in some strange way? Is he merely seeking just retribution? This question lingers for about twenty minutes or so, and it's the best part of the film. Then it's summarily tossed aside and I was back to nodding off again.
That's the biggest problem. Nightmare is just boring. I don't consider myself a horror aficianado by an stretch, but I do know that the goal usually isn't to have me wondering about the story's minute details. For instance, one thing I thought of was that the usage of Google and other search engines in movies is presented very stupidly. Nobody has to actually dig for clues anymore. They can just type in some poor schmuck's name and "wallah!", they can find out everything necessary to push the plot along. That's how bored I was that I focused on that.
It wasn't going to be the actors that kept my attention. Not even Jackie Earle Haley, who's big comeback was playing a pedophile in the amazing 2006 film Little Children
could put his stamp on this thing. It's not totally his fault. The script lets him down on a number of occasions. Freddy doesn't do anything distinguishable for the better part of the film, which is pretty bad since the rest of the cast might as well be cigar store Indians. I have no idea who they are or why I should care about them. There's an attempt in the final act to channel a bit of the humor that ruined Krueger in the latter Elm Street features, but by then it was too late. One of the things I've given Platinum Dunes credit for, even when their movies stink, is that the overall presentation and artistic direction is inspired. Director Samuel Bayer doesn't really do much to stretch beyond the visual scope of the original, but his approach is solid. A couple of the more special effects heavy scenes work really well, in particular one where Freddy morphs from out of a walll to kill one of his victims. There's nothing scary in this picture, though. For a horror, that's a fatal claw to the heart.
A Nightmare on Elm Street for me has always been about premise. There's no scarier thing than a terror that can haunt us in our sleep, when we're at our most vulnerable. It was this idea and the execution of it that made the original Nightmare work. Freddy was terrifying in what he represented moreso than anything he actually did. This version tries hard to capture that same fear element, but Freddy's revival is less like a razor sharp glove and more like a dull butterknife.
