Comments Off on Freddy’s Dead: The Final Nightmare
You know you’re getting old when 9:00 PM rolls around and you’ve already started yawning. Your eyelids are getting mighty heavy while watching “Antiques Road Show”, and you’re pretty winded from trying to find your copy of Reader’s Digest in the couch cushions. That pretty much sums-up my late nights. How far am I away from a nice cup of chamomile tea and a warm seltzer bath with the sounds of Kenny G playing on my clock radio? I sure miss those college nights when I could stay up all night watching horror movies and playing my Sega Dreamcast. I’d awake the next morning in my Lazyboy surrounded by Cheetos wrappers and empty Diet Coke cans, then bike it to class with no problems. I’d just need a light nap during anatomy class to rejuvenate me for the rest of the afternoon. In a class hall filled with about 500-plus students, you’d find the back row was a inconspicuous place to curl up for a nice snooze. I think half of the back row was still in their pajamas, anyway. Did you know there’re about a thousand bones in the human hand named after dead Latin saints? Neither did I, but I think that’s what I dreamed about as I faded out to the monotonous voice of our professor. “Hey tell the guy down in front to pipe down, we’re trying to catch some sleep back here. Could ya dim those lights, too, while you’re at it? Thanks.” Sure, I had the option to examine medical cadavers for some extra credit, but I was traumatized enough when my goldfish died, so seeing the pickled liver of pale Joe Average didn’t exactly appeal to me. The class was a well-needed rest even at $250 a credit hour; and yes, I know $250 per credit hour sounds cheap nowadays, but that was big bucks back then. We only had dial-up Internet, giant cell phones, our music was still on CDs, and we liked it that way. I still think it was a wise choice taking the passing grade with in-class dreams of dead Latin saints riding around in go-karts on tracks made of pudding. Maybe I should have skipped the BBQ pork-rinds the night before.
Speaking of weird snack-induced dreams, “Freddy’s Dead: The Final Nightmare” is the conclusion to the popular Elm St. Franchise, or as I like to call it, “The Final Cash-in.” Our dream Host-with-the-Most returns to don his fedora and Christmas sweater for the final time. Nevermind the eventual “Wes Craven’s New Nightmare “ and “Freddy vs. Jason” films that were to follow. Freddy’s dead for sure…and this time, they mean it!
It’s been 10 years since Freddy’s last carnage. Springwood’s youth has been wiped out and property values are in the gutter, while most of the older residents have either left or gone crazy. Johnny, the last remaining teenager from Springwood, is having nightmares of air travel in coach and homicidal bus drivers, so he decides to head out of town on foot to avoid any mass transit problems. Johnny hits his head on a rock and gets a nasty case of amnesia and is dropped off at a nearby
town’s de-militarized youth shelter. There he meets up with Spencer, a stoner who has an uncanny resemblance to the “You’re getting a Dell, dude” dude; Tracy, a karate kickin’ PMS-in’ teenager with major Daddy issues; and Carlos, a partially deaf Ralph Machio lookalike with a gigantic
hearing aid from the 1970s. Watching over all of them is Kim, their somewhat creepy youth counselor, whose main therapy involves taking them on weekend drives to towns inhabited by psychotic Roseanne Barrs and hyperactive Tom Arnolds. Perhaps the Springwood kids weren’t killed off–maybe they just left. Discovering the dreams of her past are intertwined with Johnny and the town, Maggie’s trip to Springfield is also her quest to discover the mysterious roots of her family tree,
and why she has flashbacks of watertowers and guys in ‘50s sweater vests.
The town seems to have no way out, nor any Red Roof Inns, so they decide to crash at the always-open Elm St. house. While napping, Carlos meets his quick demise via a Q-tip impalement and a hearing test of torture with the sounds of scratching chalkboards. But at least Carlos’s earwax is no longer a problem. Spencer hallucinates on the couch and gets zapped into a videogame where Freddy is King Kuppa, and he’s a stoned Luigi who ends up having his chest stomped on like the ringer in an amateur wrestling match. Meanwhile, Johnny is yet again attempting sky diving lessons in his dream, but lands face-first on a
bed of nails from a faulty Freddy parachute. All this carnage is just part of Freddy’s bigger plan to move on to greener pastures outside the town of Springwood. After all “every town has an Elm Street.” Every town also has a Wal-Mart and Rite-Aid, so I’m not sure Freddy’s relocation would really bring that much more evil. Maggie and Tracy return to the youth shelter with fewer passengers, but they now have a local dream philosopher who has decided to take on Freddy on his own turf. By entering his own dreams and memories, they plan to bring him back into the real world via an extended bear-hug. Little did Freddy realize his greatest weakness was a nice, big hug… Oh, and a stick of dynamite slammed into his chest. KAAA-BOOOM! Freddy-bits everywhere.
Freddy’s dead…if the title didn’t already tell you so. Easily on par with “The Dream Master” in its zaniness. He is still a psychotic wise-cracker with lots of creative kills left in his bag of tricks. A fun little horror movie that offers up more goofiness than any real scares, but well worth checking out. Too bad they didn’t include the 3D glasses like they did with the original theatrical release, but you do get to see Johnny Depp get hit in the face with a frying pan. You’ll end up with an unhealthy fear of Q-tips, but at least you won’t fear pudding and go-karts like me.
-death by airplane decompression
-hit-and-run transit authorities
-gratuitous map folding
-extreme ear cleaning
-skydiving safety lessons
-Alice Cooper smackdowns
-knife throwing exhibitions
-Super Mario’s World of Death
rated 8.7 out of 10 for the movie
You can WATCH THE WHOLE DANG MOVIE RIGHT HERE!