A Nightmare on Elm Street, Part III

Credited (for better or worse) for adding a heavier dose of humour to Freddy Krueger’s arsenal of teen tormenting tricks, A Nightmare on Elm Street Part III: Dream Warriors [M] (1987) reinvigorated the franchise after Part II [M] kind of went astray, having Freddy running amuck during a pool party, and a lead character tormented by the Burned One / a strong attraction towards the school’s egotistical jock.

Family-friendly Thai campaign revealing Freddy's unique application of Yoga to realign Patricia's spine.

Part III remains a really satisfying sequel because the whole thing unfolds like a dream, and director Chuck (‘please call me Charles’) Russell did a nice job maximizing the production’s small resources to create some memorably gross & disgusting imagery, from the phallic Freddy Serpent that tries to devour little Patricia Arquette in her film debut (see above), to the marionette sequence in which fresh tendons are yanked out of a teen to lure the boy to the bell tower's edge.

Retro campaign used in Pakistan.

Heather Langenkamp’s limited thespian chops are front & centre, but her struggle to emote, paired with Craig Wasson’s three ranges of a squinting face, are quite entertaining, not to mention Laurence Fishburne playing an attendant to the clinic’s rebellious teens.

Warner Home Video’s Blu-ray pairs Part II with Part III, and the interview segments in the bonus material shed ample light on the second sequel's genesis, rewriting, and the burgeoning Freddy Krueger fan base that ensured a steady run of sequels.

Rumours of a European Elm Street boxed set for all original films on Blu were leaked back in September, so hopefully WHV will roll out the rest in the coming months in North America, followed by the TV series, Freddy’s Nightmares (1988-1990), which vanished from circulation after a handful of episodes popped up on VHS, and a compilation DVD way back when.

At some point I’ll get my hands on the new 2-disc franchise documentary, Never Sleep Again: The Elm Street Story (CAV Distributing), but perhaps I should flip back to #1, and contrast Wes Craven’s original cult classic which built New Line into a major indie production company during the 1980s and early 1990s prior to the myopic executives who greenlit the glossy but abysmal Body Shots and The Astronaut's Wife in 1999.

Coming shortly: a review of Twilight Time’s sparkling DVD of Stagecoach, the long unavailable remake John Ford purists poo-pooed in 1966. Is it a maligned modernist classic, a mediocre western, or pure sacrilege? (Actually, it's something else.)






Mark R. Hasan, Editor
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