 This is a disaster. However, the unappreciated aspect of this movie isn't what goes on during the bulk of it's running time - group of young Americans act like "a**holes", some are killed, womyn director adds feminist slant (man = bastard, she-man females, old Fred cops a kick in the testicles...), Nietzsche quote (just to prove these folks are "college educated" or at least have friends at Penguin...) and 3D trip into Freddy's brain (which, of course, doesn't mean s*** on video) - what IS interesting about the film is it's conclusion. Forget Greenaway's "experiments" which claim to anticipate a visual revolution; the closing credits of Freddy's Dead show the TRUE way forward. Within a five minute period of credit crawl, the entire Elm Street saga is played out in a split-screen extravaganza - ripped-off heads, bloody water-beds, obscene tongues, Freddy as a puppet, that s***-bit where a fake looking womyn is pulled through a door, the school bus balanced over a black, lightning streaked desert - amazing stuff. THIS is a revelation. A concept which thrived on bloated sequels condensed to a mini-movie. Is it just an entrenched prejudice that forbids film-makers to market five minute films? Why do we equate length with value?? Given the Elm Street films ran parallel (in a chronological sense) with the "MTV Generation", emracing each musical trend (from popmetal to hip-hop) to serve as soundtrack fodder, is it surprising that the frolics of Freddy would eventually "evolve" into horror flick as video clip: rapid-fire editing, five minute bursts of sight & sound. Freddy's Dead, in it's own hopeless way, was a premonition for the demise of the horror film - the undeniable reality that the average "alternative" music promo has become far more terrifying than any 90 minute FX w**k could aspire to. See it for the credits... You may read another review, submit your own, or return home. |
