Ah, Fuck You, Platinum Dunes

That’s right, fuck Platinum Dunes.  I figured I’d just get it out of the way right at the top.  Platinum Dunes has spent way too much time and money shitting on my childhood lately.  They keep buying up all the horror properties and sucking all the scary out and adding in boobs and annoyance.  And this latest offering is nothing new.

A Nightmare on Elm Street, folks.  That’s what we’re talking about.

Once or twice I have mentioned the deep and passionate love I have for all things Heather Langenkamp.  And I stand by this love.  She’s one of my favorite final girls, what with her lack of conditioner and lack of acting chops.  She just stole my heart, and I can’t ever get it back.  Hell, I was Nancy Thompson for Halloween this past year.  So you can imagine that Platinum Dunes had a lot to live up to.

And I went into the theater middle fingers poised, y’all.  Now, I tend not to get all up-in-arms about remakes.  I sort of see them as inevitable, but I have wild hair up my ass about Platinum Dunes.  They make shit, dudes.  Their movies suck ass.  In fact, I have hated them all (despite the somewhat guilty pleasure of the Texas Chain Saw remake).  I had really, really, REALLY low expectations for this one.  I am not kidding when I tell you that I more than half-expected Michael Bay to walk into the theater and actually take a giant shit on my face during the proceedings.  That did not happen.

That might have been better.

Our story opens in the Springwood diner.  A young man is dozing off in a booth and has a nightmare in which he sees boiling pigs’ feet and heads.  Now, in another movie the carnage might be scary, but as there is no context for the image it just seems out of place and strange.  For example, in a film like The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, Pam wanders into the family’s home and falls into a room filled with macabre items.  This is terrifying precisely because of the context in which she finds it.  But this image in our dream world is just silly because the film has provided us, as yet, no context for anything.

It is during this scene that we are also provided with our first death.  This is also rather disappointing.  The victim is not so much killed by Freddy as he is forced to kill himself by Freddy.  And that is a bummer.  Why, you ask.  Well, Freddy is given a full reveal right away.  There is no mystery.  We see all of him.  So there’s nothing scary about him.  He’s no dream boogeyman.  He’s the punning asshole from parts 3 on, and it’s just no fun.  So there’s really no point in not having him kill this first kid.

It’s here that we also meet our central characters: Nancy (Holbrook–not Thompson), Kris (Tina), Jesse (Rod), and Quentin (Glenn).  None of them really matter that much except for Nancy and Quentin, so I won’t spend any real time talking about them.

In fact, now that I think about it, I am having trouble remembering anything but complaints about this film, so I am just going to head that route.  (This is film is, if anything, ultimately forgettable.)

Bullshit science.  That seems to be one of the primary problems with this movie.  Okay, the makers of this abortion decided that they’d like to be as lazy as possible and developed a bullshit science theory of micronaps, so now the kids don’t even have to fall asleep.  What kind of shit is that???  I mean, it can’t be that difficult to fit exhaustion into a script in which kids are forcing themselves to stay awake, can it?  Why do they have to make up this shit?

Next: Freddy is not a child murderer.  I know.  I know.  I KNOW!  If you are a fan of the original, and this does not piss you off, I don’t know what would.  In this version, he is a child rapist.  Not only that, but he rather tastelessly almost rapes Nancy.  This is, quite possibly, the part of the film that pissed me off the most.  I thought my head would rocket off into space and come back covered in space ice, which would surely melt upon reentering the Earth’s atmosphere so that no one would even notice.  Yeah, it really pissed me off.  Seriously, this scene was so fucking tasteless I thought I was going to throw up.

Come to think of it, maybe Michael Bay did shit on my face.

Apparently all of the teens he goes after are all former victims of his.  Uh-huh.  Sure.  And not one of them remembers having been a victim.

Because that makes sense.

And they all went to a preschool together.  And they don’t remember that either.

Because that makes sense.

Oh, and Freddy’s death scene was so dramatic I thought–for a second–that maybe I was dreaming and that I was watching that Clash of the Titans remake.

To make a long story short, fuck this movie super hard.

Oh, and I miss you Heather Langenkamp.

EDITED TO ADD: Seriously, Platinum Dunes, can you get over the fucking jump scares already?

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~ by acaseofyou12581 on May 2, 2010.

4 Responses to “Ah, Fuck You, Platinum Dunes”

  1. Richie and I want to see this movie. He saw the actor who plays Freddie in “Little Children” and says he’s a creepy guy. So we’ll see.

  2. I warned you.

  3. We just watched this. Meh. I prefer Robert Englund.

  4. Again, I say, I warned you.

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