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‘A Nightmare on Elm Street’ at 40: Wes Craven’s Cautionary Tale About Ignoring the Past

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A Nightmare on Elm Street

Why is Freddy Krueger scary? And yes, that’s a serious question. There are obvious reasons, like the burned face, the knife fingers, and his hideous fashion sense, but what’s at his core that makes him terrifying? Like some of horror’s best creations, Freddy is a byproduct of secrets. He’s the untold truth that people kept to themselves in the name of the so-called greater good. Using Krueger as a walking, talking metaphor, Wes Craven exposed the horrors of keeping secrets, rewriting history, and picking and choosing which parts of the past feel relevant to our present. 

A Nightmare on Elm Street turns 40 this year. While older films sometimes lose their potency over time and get by on reputation alone, Nightmare’s bite remains on par with its bark. The flick endures partly because it grounds its surreal, scary moments in the notion that these kids are out of their depths. Nancy Thompson and her friends are up the creek without a paddle because their moms and dads remain tight-lipped about their past transgressions. The parents in Craven’s flick took matters into their own hands. One’s opinion on frontier justice aside, sympathizing with their plight is easy. Imagining any parent being cool with the justice system, throwing up on itself while watching a child predator skate on a technicality, sounds impossible. Nightmare never condones their actions, but it takes serious umbrage with the cover-up.

Most horror movies do. 

Towns featured in horror movies suffer when the past returns to haunt the inhabitants literally. The secrets stay secretive for peace preservation because maintaining the area’s idyllic façade takes precedence over everything. But whether it’s Michael Myers breaking out of a psych ward or the true history behind Sawtooth Jack, those things townspeople whisper about often blow up with cataclysmic fallout. Freddy is the ultimate manifestation of that idea. He not only continues his crimes in ways Springwood’s parents can’t fathom, much less stop, but he drives wedges between them and their kids. Ms. Thompson’s disbelief and fear turn her into a liar prone to gaslighting her daughter. Even with tangible proof, like Freddy’s hat and Nancy’s gash marks, she believes that Nancy’s objective truth is just an operative imagination running wild. That happens not because she’s protecting her daughter but because she wants to feel better about herself. 

Acknowledging Nancy’s legitimate fear and helping her through that means wrestling with her guilt. History shows just how bad humans are when it comes to that sort of thing, so it’s obvious why Ms. Thompson loses herself at the bottom of an alcohol bottle. Confronting one’s thorny past isn’t comforting by design. A Nightmare on Elm Street, for all its bombast with Freddy doing Freddy things, handles adults dealing with uncomfortable truths with a surprisingly subtle glove. The movie shows Nancy’s parents sifting through their mixed emotions just enough that it elicits empathy—at least a tad bit. Ms. Thompson only comes clean when she’s almost too drunk for coherence, but even then, she’s still not listening nor facing reality. Her “solution” for Freddy appearing in her daughter’s dreams? Get more sleep and bars on the windows. She says the bars keep the villain out, but her daughter explains countless times that he’s already inside. And with every wink of sleep, Freddy only gets closer. This genre has no time for that brand of willful ignorance or not engaging with one’s checkered past. Spooky movies demand more from their characters. 

They put them in unimaginable positions where they must ask themselves tough questions: how far is too far for survival, or is their present predicament deserved? Above all else, they cannot take their actions for granted, no matter how noble they believe their intentions. Nancy’s mom, and to a lesser extent, her dad, feel at home with the city officials in My Bloody Valentine. Those characters put lives at risk because revealing the truth behind canceling the Valentine’s Day dance might incite panic. They also share similarities with the inhabitants who thought changing Camp Crystal Lake’s name, giving it a new coat of paint, and scrubbing all their history concerning Jason Voorhees might do more good than harm rather than the other way around. 

It didn’t. 

Pretending that killers never infiltrated one’s neck of the woods or that a group of people never made questionable decisions doesn’t change anything. A Nightmare on Elm Street posits that it only makes the next generation ill-prepared when those chickens inevitably come home to roost, sometimes by the dozens.  

There’s a chance Craven revolved his creation around adults playing make-believe with reality while asking somebody to “please think of the children” because of his strict religious upbringing. After all, the man didn’t see his first movie until college. He turned his back on organized religion because the adults around him said watching something like To Kill a Mockingbird was sinful. He understood how frightening secrets are and why addressing the past, no matter how painful, is the only way we improve on the other side. A Nightmare on Elm Street is a lot of things, but it remains a cautionary tale with a lesson that some still don’t understand four decades later. 

Freddy Krueger is the charred reminder that yesterday never dies. Even if one lights it on fire and tries scooping its ashes into a dustbin. 

Wes Craven

Editorials

What’s Wrong with My Baby!? Larry Cohen’s ‘It’s Alive’ at 50

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Netflix It's Alive

Soon after the New Hollywood generation took over the entertainment industry, they started having children. And more than any filmmakers that came before—they were terrified. Rosemary’s Baby (1968), The Exorcist (1973), The Omen (1976), Eraserhead (1977), The Brood (1979), The Shining (1980), Possession (1981), and many others all deal, at least in part, with the fears of becoming or being a parent. What if my child turns out to be a monster? is corrupted by some evil force? or turns out to be the fucking Antichrist? What if I screw them up somehow, or can’t help them, or even go insane and try to kill them? Horror has always been at its best when exploring relatable fears through extreme circumstances. A prime example of this is Larry Cohen’s 1974 monster-baby movie It’s Alive, which explores the not only the rollercoaster of emotions that any parent experiences when confronted with the difficulties of raising a child, but long-standing questions of who or what is at fault when something goes horribly wrong.

Cohen begins making his underlying points early in the film as Frank Davis (John P. Ryan) discusses the state of the world with a group of expectant fathers in a hospital waiting room. They discuss the “overabundance of lead” in foods and the environment, smog, and pesticides that only serve to produce roaches that are “bigger, stronger, and harder to kill.” Frank comments that this is “quite a world to bring a kid into.” This has long been a discussion point among people when trying to decide whether to have kids or not. I’ve had many conversations with friends who have said they feel it’s irresponsible to bring children into such a violent, broken, and dangerous world, and I certainly don’t begrudge them this. My wife and I did decide to have children but that doesn’t mean that it’s been easy.

Immediately following this scene comes It’s Alive’s most famous sequence in which Frank’s wife Lenore (Sharon Farrell) is the only person left alive in her delivery room, the doctors clawed and bitten to death by her mutant baby, which has escaped. “What does my baby look like!? What’s wrong with my baby!?” she screams as nurses wheel her frantically into a recovery room. The evening that had begun with such joy and excitement at the birth of their second child turned into a nightmare. This is tough for me to write, but on some level, I can relate to this whiplash of emotion. When my second child was born, they came about five weeks early. I’ll use the pronouns “they/them” for privacy reasons when referring to my kids. Our oldest was still very young and went to stay with my parents and we sped off to the hospital where my wife was taken into an operating room for an emergency c-section. I was able to carry our newborn into the NICU (natal intensive care unit) where I was assured that this was routine for all premature births. The nurses assured me there was nothing to worry about and the baby looked big and healthy. I headed to where my wife was taken to recover to grab a few winks assuming that everything was fine. Well, when I awoke, I headed back over to the NICU to find that my child was not where I left them. The nurse found me and told me that the baby’s lungs were underdeveloped, and they had to put them in a special room connected to oxygen tubes and wires to monitor their vitals.

It’s difficult to express the fear that overwhelmed me in those moments. Everything turned out okay, but it took a while and I’m convinced to this day that their anxiety struggles spring from these first weeks of life. As our children grew, we learned that two of the three were on the spectrum and that anxiety, depression, ADHD, and OCD were also playing a part in their lives. Parents, at least speaking for myself, can’t help but blame themselves for the struggles their children face. The “if only” questions creep in and easily overcome the voices that assure us that it really has nothing to do with us. In the film, Lenore says, “maybe it’s all the pills I’ve been taking that brought this on.” Frank muses aloud about how he used to think that Frankenstein was the monster, but when he got older realized he was the one that made the monster. The aptly named Frank is wondering if his baby’s mutation is his fault, if he created the monster that is terrorizing Los Angeles. I have made plenty of “if only” statements about myself over the years. “If only I hadn’t had to work so much, if only I had been around more when they were little.” Mothers may ask themselves, “did I have a drink, too much coffee, or a cigarette before I knew I was pregnant? Was I too stressed out during the pregnancy?” In other words, most parents can’t help but wonder if it’s all their fault.

At one point in the film, Frank goes to the elementary school where his baby has been sighted and is escorted through the halls by police. He overhears someone comment about “screwed up genes,” which brings about age-old questions of nature vs. nurture. Despite the voices around him from doctors and detectives that say, “we know this isn’t your fault,” Frank can’t help but think it is, and that the people who try to tell him it isn’t really think it’s his fault too. There is no doubt that there is a hereditary element to the kinds of mental illness struggles that my children and I deal with. But, and it’s a bit but, good parenting goes a long way in helping children deal with these struggles. Kids need to know they’re not alone, a good parent can provide that, perhaps especially parents that can relate to the same kinds of struggles. The question of nature vs. nurture will likely never be entirely answered but I think there’s more than a good chance that “both/and” is the case. Around the midpoint of the film, Frank agrees to disown the child and sign it over for medical experimentation if caught or killed. Lenore and the older son Chris (Daniel Holzman) seek to nurture and teach the baby, feeling that it is not a monster, but a member of the family.

It’s Alive takes these ideas to an even greater degree in the fact that the Davis Baby really is a monster, a mutant with claws and fangs that murders and eats people. The late ’60s and early ’70s also saw the rise in mass murderers and serial killers which heightened the nature vs. nurture debate. Obviously, these people were not literal monsters but human beings that came from human parents, but something had gone horribly wrong. Often the upbringing of these killers clearly led in part to their antisocial behavior, but this isn’t always the case. It’s Alive asks “what if a ‘monster’ comes from a good home?” In this case is it society, environmental factors, or is it the lead, smog, and pesticides? It is almost impossible to know, but the ending of the film underscores an uncomfortable truth—even monsters have parents.

As the film enters its third act, Frank joins the hunt for his child through the Los Angeles sewers and into the L.A. River. He is armed with a rifle and ready to kill on sight, having divorced himself from any relationship to the child. Then Frank finds his baby crying in the sewers and his fatherly instincts take over. With tears in his eyes, he speaks words of comfort and wraps his son in his coat. He holds him close, pats and rocks him, and whispers that everything is going to be okay. People often wonder how the parents of those who perform heinous acts can sit in court, shed tears, and defend them. I think it’s a complex issue. I’m sure that these parents know that their child has done something evil, but that doesn’t change the fact that they are still their baby. Your child is a piece of yourself formed into a whole new human being. Disowning them would be like cutting off a limb, no matter what they may have done. It doesn’t erase an evil act, far from it, but I can understand the pain of a parent in that situation. I think It’s Alive does an exceptional job placing its audience in that situation.

Despite the serious issues and ideas being examined in the film, It’s Alive is far from a dour affair. At heart, it is still a monster movie and filled with a sense of fun and a great deal of pitch-black humor. In one of its more memorable moments, a milkman is sucked into the rear compartment of his truck as red blood mingles with the white milk from smashed bottles leaking out the back of the truck and streaming down the street. Just after Frank agrees to join the hunt for his baby, the film cuts to the back of an ice cream truck with the words “STOP CHILDREN” emblazoned on it. It’s a movie filled with great kills, a mutant baby—created by make-up effects master Rick Baker early in his career, and plenty of action—and all in a PG rated movie! I’m telling you, the ’70s were wild. It just also happens to have some thoughtful ideas behind it as well.

Which was Larry Cohen’s specialty. Cohen made all kinds of movies, but his most enduring have been his horror films and all of them tackle the social issues and fears of the time they were made. God Told Me To (1976), Q: The Winged Serpent (1982), and The Stuff (1985) are all great examples of his socially aware, low-budget, exploitation filmmaking with a brain and It’s Alive certainly fits right in with that group. Cohen would go on to write and direct two sequels, It Lives Again (aka It’s Alive 2) in 1978 and It’s Alive III: Island of the Alive in 1987 and is credited as a co-writer on the 2008 remake. All these films explore the ideas of parental responsibility in light of the various concerns of the times they were made including abortion rights and AIDS.

Fifty years after It’s Alive was initially released, it has only become more relevant in the ensuing years. Fears surrounding parenthood have been with us since the beginning of time but as the years pass the reasons for these fears only seem to become more and more profound. In today’s world the conversation of the fathers in the waiting room could be expanded to hormones and genetic modifications in food, terrorism, climate change, school and other mass shootings, and other threats that were unknown or at least less of a concern fifty years ago. Perhaps the fearmongering conspiracy theories about chemtrails and vaccines would be mentioned as well, though in a more satirical fashion, as fears some expectant parents encounter while endlessly doomscrolling Facebook or Twitter. Speaking for myself, despite the struggles, the fears, and the sadness that sometimes comes with having children, it’s been worth it. The joys ultimately outweigh all of that, but I understand the terror too. Becoming a parent is no easy choice, nor should it be. But as I look back, I can say that I’m glad we made the choice we did.

I wonder if Frank and Lenore can say the same thing.

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