A NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET (1984) - 5/5 stars

Release: 1984

Director: Wes Craven

Writer: Wes Craven

Cast: Heather Langenkamp, Robert Englund, John Saxon, Johnny Depp, Amanda Wyss, Ronee Blakley, Jsu Garcia, Charles Fleischer, Joseph Whipp, Lin Shaye, Joe Unger, Mimi Craven, Jack Shea, Ed Call

Soundtrack: Charles Bernstein

Claim to fame: the movie that made put Wes Craven on the map and introduced Freddy Krueger (and Johnny Depp!) to the world

Rating: 5/5 stars

Before we dive headfirst into a review "A Nightmare on Elm Street," let me preface things by saying: Wes Craven was an English and Philosophy professor before getting into the film business. There have been times in his career when he has seemed to have his finger directly on the pulse of whatever issue is plaguing America's subconscious.

The man knows how to scare his audience. What he does not know, however, is how to write dialogue for teenagers.

It's real kids - with real problems!

If the uninitiated boot up "A Nightmare on Elm Street" for the first time, they might be struck by the silliness of lines that include "Hey, up yours with a twirling lawn mower!" and "Screw your [hall] pass!"

They might also find the acting of lead Helen Langenkamp to be a bit on the amateurish side. As such, these folks might write off the movie entirely as a dated mess from the 80's. And that would be a shame.

Oh Heather, but we love your hair

Because I'm here to argue that "Nightmare" is one of the most imaginative and finely crafted horror movies of the past 30 years. It's one of those movies I wish I could view again for the first time, just to experience the awe and terror of some of its most memorable scenes: most particularly the sequence where Freddy Krueger first emerges from the darkness of an alleyway to taunt Tina.

The lighting and shot composition in this film are impeccable: everything is framed and lit perfectly to evoke the sinking dread of a dream you can't wake up from, and the vast power of someone who could actually manipulate your dream space. Wes Craven was really at the peak of his considerable talents with "Nightmare."

Screenshots can't really do this scene justice; you have to watch

the movie to see just how wet and atmospheric this corridor is

Wes Craven's choice of camera angles and shot composition is just brilliant

Although his impact has been lessened over the years, thanks to being printed on t-shirts and watered down by oneliner-spouting sequels, watch "A Nightmare on Elm Street" again and you'll realize just how scary Freddy Krueger is. He is a sick, sick bastard.

There are moments in this movie, blink-and-you'll-miss-them moments, that are truly deranged. Freddy peels off his face, slices off his fingers, and cuts his own body open just to freak out the teenagers on Elm Street (his body is filled with green pus and maggots, in case you're wondering).

Oh that Freddy Kreuger, he'll do anything for a laugh

How about the scene where Freddy Krueger sticks his face through a small window in the door of Nancy's house, literally *wearing* the skin Tina's face and talking in her voice, before casually ripping it off and taunting Nancy as Freddy again? Freddy declares "I'm your boyfriend now" and then licks Nancy's face - through the bottom receiver of a telephone.

Freddy takes crank calls to a whole new level

Combine that with the fact that Craven wisely filmed Freddy almost exclusively in shadows - we never get a full glimpse of his face and makeup - and you start to realize just why audiences were scared shitless by Robert Englund back in 1984. Before he joined the ranks of Pinhead and Chucky as "slasher movie monsters kids wish they could hang out with," Freddy was truly the stuff of nightmares.

Freddy under the covers: another blink-and-you'll-miss-it moment

that I just love

What's so great great is, cornball dialogue aside, the kids in this movie are likable. It's not like "Friday the 13th" where the audience is salaciously encouraged to root for the demise of a bunch of unlikeable jocks and sluts. Nancy isn't just the "good girl" - she's a good person. She tries to be there for her friends and she manages to be more mature than both her parents; her mother is a full-bore alcoholic while her father is consumed by his job as a police officer.

The movie is not a portrait of what happens when a demonic monster invades picture-perfect suburbia. Even before Freddy rears his flame-broiled head, the cracks are showing. In "Nightmare," not only are teenagers forced to suffer for the sins of their parents, but parental units are completely ineffectual. The scene where Nancy's mother slaps her daughter across the face still shocks me every time it happens.

There's an interesting subtext of the movie where Nancy and adults around her perceive her to be aging faster due to the stress of Freddy's return. At one point Nancy looks in a mirror and remarks, "I look 20 years-old." I think this is more than just a canny nod to the fact that Hollywood frequent casts 20-somethings as 15 year-olds. Due to her parents' refusal to atone for the actions of their past and the fact that they themselves escape from reality through alcohol or work, Nancy is forced to grow up a hell of a lot faster than normal.

During one of her more tense nightmares, Nancy returns from the dream world with Freddy's fedora - the first sign that she might actually be able to harm the murderer - and a newly grayed lock of hair on her head. She takes something from Freddy, but he's taken something from her.

Nancy also happens ludicrously brave. She devises her own plan to lure Freddy out of her dreams and into the real world so he can be rendered mortal and defeated. She counts on her lunkheaded boyfriend, played by Johnny Depp, to help her out but he doesn't take her serious enough. Take note, this is probably the one time in his career when Johnny Depp could be considered a total dork.

"Glen, you bastard…I just asked you to do one thing, to stay awake and watch me and to wake me up if it looked like I was having a bad dream, and what did you do, you shit? You fell asleep."

In the 80's, you really could buy a shirt "half off"

Nancy doesn't wait to die; she lays traps and antipersonnel weapons (seriously) around her house to stop Freddy in his tracks. And it almost works too, until we get to the studio-dictated twist ending where Freddy lives and Nancy is trapped in a seemingly never-ending cycle of torment ("Hey! Your friends and family are alive and well, but only so Freddy can keep killing them over and over again!").

Although this creative infringement caused Craven to bolt from the sequel, I have to admit I don't mind it for the simple fact that it's opening notes of false happiness seem to parody the entire decade of the 80's itself.

"Oh, honey, doesn't it just feel great to wake up to a misty morning,

dressed like a J Crew ad, and ready to play tennis?"

Wes Craven handpicked Heather Langenkamp to be in the film precisely because she seemed real and down to earth. Picking someone "non-Hollywood," as Craven put it, measured that Nancy would feel like a genuine teenager. It also meant that her acting abilities might not be as shrewdly rehearsed as kids who grew up in the business. There are those who might chortle at some of her line deliveries.

But as Wes said himself in 1994's "New Nightmare," Nancy may have been written as a resourceful character but it is Langenkamp who gave her her strength. And to her credit, Langenkamp has always been proud of her role as the heroine of "Nightmare" series, even going so far as to help make a documentary chronicling its entire history (the forthcoming "Never Sleep Again: The Elm Street Legacy).

And I haven't even mentioned the fantastic score by Charles Bernstein, one of those perfect 80's horror soundtracks, that combines a propulsive electronic beat with a haunting, sing-song melody on synthesizer notes that seem to melt as you're listening to them.

Pay attention to the masterful way that Bernstein incorporates the "1, 2, Freddy's coming for you" children's song into his score and how the music manages to be both fun and scary, just like the movie itself. Bernstein's soundtrack really adds a whole other level of enjoyment to "Nightmare."

The idea of a phantom able to kill you in your dreams is absolutely genius, and Wes Craven was able to capitalize on it with a smart script. Notice the scene where Nancy enters the safety of her house, and the frantic music suddenly stops. Nancy runs upstairs - the audience thinks she's headed for safety - and suddenly her feet sink into the steps and a rumbly synth note kicks in, reminding us that as long as you're asleep you're never safe from Freddy.

This is a master class in horror filmmaking, one of the few American movies that is as colorful and delightfully macabre as a Dario Argento flick. All of the special effects, which are practical, hand-made, and non-computer enhanced, still hold up terrifically after over 30 years. That's more than you can say for most movies with CGI from just 3 or 4 years ago.

Sorry, Glen's mom...

that's your son's blood you're watching funnel to the ceiling.

If any of "Nightmare's" power has waned in the intervening years, it's only because of the mass merchandising of the franchise (which was out of Craven's hands) and the resulting familiarization of Freddy Krueger.

But just pop the original "Nightmare" back in and you'll soon be reminded of its surreal power. Perhaps it'll be during that opening scene, when Tina turns her head to see a sheep bleating in front of her while a man laughs menacingly from somewhere unseen, and she realizes that her world is about to be turned upside down...

God, I love this movie

LIGHT SLEEPER (1992) - 3/5 stars

Release: 1992

Director: Paul Schrader

Writer: Paul Schrader

Cast: Willem Dafoe, Susan Sarandon, Dana Delany, Mary Beth Hurt, David Clennon, Victor Garber, Jane Adams, Sam Rockwell, David Spade

Soundtrack: Michael Been

Claim to fame: a fairly obscure picture for Paul Schrader, although apparently someone once called it "The Taxi Driver of the 90's" because that's on the box art

Rating: 3/5 stars

I made it all the way through "Light Sleeper" because I love Willem Dafoe as an actor. If you don't share a similar appreciation for the man, then you might not want to spend an hour and 41 minutes with a film that is as conceptually flawed as this one.

The script, from Paul Schrader ("Taxi Driver," "Rolling Thunder") is decent enough. The narrative hook of the story - a mid-level drug dealer looking to get out of the business before it kills him - is compelling if you're not bored to tears of drug movies (what's nice is that this doesn't really deal with the addiction aspect like so many others do).

But there's one thing that really holds "Light Sleeper" down every time it tries to take off, and that's the music. This is a shining example of how a bad soundtrack can ruin a decent movie.

Dafoe spends a good 70% of this movie riding in the back of a black sedan

or walking the streets of New York

The musical instrumentation itself isn't bad: low-key jazz numbers with synth pads and bass to color the sights of a neon-lit, early 90's New York City. But for some reason, Schrader went and hired a vocalist, Michael Been, to sing over the music. Been was the guitarist/singer for an 80's band known as The Call. Here he sounds like a bad Bruce Springsteen impersonator hired to do an even WORSE impersonation of Leonard Cohen.

The lyrics are relentlessly overwrought. While the script is low-key enough to keep the characters' emotions internalized, the music telegraphs everything like an airplane message written in the sky.

Dafoe in repose

What would have merely been a scene of William Dafoe walking the streets of New York alone at night becomes unbearably pretentious when the singer groans lines like, "My inner demons tear me apart/rip my soul through the night/as I walk alone/I'm on my own/oh yeah/I'm the walking dead."

It gets even worse during the romantic moments. And you know because this is a Willem Dafoe movie not called "Spider-Man," he has to show his ass.

"Remember that night/when we made love/and I looked in your eyes/and I saw the stars above/oh yeah/How do we get back there?" It doesn't help that every melody sounds like the vocalist is just waiting to burst out into Cohen's "Hallelujah."

Dafoe's backside is like Harvy Keitel's junk - you just know you're gonna see it

If you can someone get past the offensively bad soundtrack, the movie is certainly watchable. It attempts to be what I assume is a fairly realistic take on dealing drugs. Dafoe plays the kind of "DD" who only associates with clients his supplier has a relationship with - these are upscale people with high-rise apartments; you know, the club-going and jet-set type.

He's rarely in danger of having a gun pulled on him or being shivved in the back; he's never out on the streets, dealing smack to kids. It's not that kind of film, which is actually a nice change of pace.

I think Patrick Bateman tried to reserve a table a this club

Unfortunately, the movie does not live up to the talents of Paul Schrader. When things do build to a moment of ominous violence, as they often do in Schrader movies, it honestly feels like the director is merely going through the motions. There's no climactic build like in "Taxi Driver" or "Rolling Thunder," it's more like Schrader felt like: "Well, it's a movie set in the world of drug dealing, I guess I've got to have some people get shot at the end."

A subplot (that honestly goes nowhere) about a drug-related serial killer feels similarly tacked on and haphazard.

Don't fuck with Dafoe!

Dafoe's character is just not that interest outside of the fact that it's Dafoe playing him. His face is a striking canvas of expressions which are used to great effect throughout the movie, but do we really care about the man that's behind him, Johnny LeTour? Not really. Same goes for Susan Sarandon as Dafoe's supplier, who is now looking to start a respectable cosmetics business.

These are just regular folks who got into the drug business because they thought it'd be an easy way to make tax-exempt money. It turned out to be just that, a business, and they didn't do as well as they'd hoped…but haven't done anything to change their circumstances until now, way late in the game.

Why the smirk, Willem? You're not thinking about

showing your ass in this movie, are you?

Oh, you...

The central question is: can people change? After spending at least half his life either doing drugs or dealing them, can Johnny LaTour make a break for it and become legit? And what kind of line of work is a drug dealer qualified to do after they go straight?

But there's nothing particularly interesting about these folks. The only real relatable aspect to Dafoe's character is his relationship with his ex-wife, played by Dana Delany. Dafoe clearly still cares for her and wishes that they could start over and rekindle their romance, but considering that she treats a well-meaning Dafoe like shit for 90% of the movie it's hard to root for them to get back together.

What a lovely early 90's haircut you have there, Ms. Delany

"Light Sleeper" has enough things going for it: an immersive look at New York City nightlife in the early 90's, some fantastic lighting, and Dafoe in fine form. Dafoe's limited voice-over narration provides fascinating insight into the world of a drug dealer. But the film provides none of the darkness or sense of imperativeness of Schrader's other works.

A scene where Dafoe is having his aura read by a physic who warns him of imminent danger and betrayal only rings false; despite his line of work, we never really get the sense that Dafoe's life is threatened. There's no sense of urgency, no reason to care, other than the fact that Willem is a great actor. You add a terrible score to the proceedings and the whole deck of cards just collapses in on itself.

You'd think that after watching his own movie, "Taxi Driver," Paul Schrader would have realized that Bernard Herrmann's score perfectly translated his characters' emotional landscapes onto the screen…instead of relying on a piss-poor Leonard Cohen wannabe to broadcast all the meaning of the film. Sadly, that was not the case here and it's (part of) what prevents "Light Sleeper" from being anything other than a watch for die-hard Schrader or Dafoe completists.

Warning: you may feel like this after watching "Light Sleeper"

if you don't keep your expectations in check.

Paradoxically, this film might help cure insomnia if you have it

ANTICHRIST (2009) - 3/5 stars

Release: 2009

Director: Lars von Trier

Writer: Lars von Trier

Cast: Willem Dafoe, Charlotte Gainsbourg

Soundtrack: N/A except two appropriated pieces written by Georg Friedrich Händel

Claim to fame: one of 2009's most "shocking" films; won a first ever "anti-award" at Cannes for misogyny; Lars von Trier's attempt at "torture porn"? (read on!)

Rating: 3/5

"Antichrist" was one of 2009's most controversial films, simultaneously outraging critics at the Cannes Films Festival who decried its perceived misogyny and developing a small following cult following of fans who embraced the movie's mantra of "Chaos reigns." Then what happened?

Well, it's 2010 and the world (and when I say "the world" I mean the internet, of course) has since moved on to this year's batch of films that are considered shockingly offensive or borderline-pornographic. Now that the hubbub over Lars von Trier's latest film has died down, perhaps it's time to take a more level-headed look at "Antichrist," which as luck would have it is streaming in high definition via Netflix.

This is not, I repeat "not," the feel good hit of the year

The world of "Antichrist" is comprised entirely of two people, played by Willem Dafoe and singer/actress Charlotte Gainsbourg. They both give phenomenal performances. Dafoe is almost a parody of the ultra-rational psychoanalyst type. After the loss of their child, he buries his own grief deep inside and takes up the task of "healing" his wife to distract himself. Dafoe adopts an extreme clinical detachment towards Gainsbourg, believing he can cure her depression with pyramid charts and fear exercises.

Some of these scenes are hard not to laugh at: instead of comforting or consoling his wife, he views her like she's part of a control group or medical journal study. Considering that Lars von Trier himself suffers from extreme depression and at least some form of obsessive-compulsive disorder, it's not hard to imagine that he's projecting much of his own experiences with doctors onto Dafoe's character. In fact, I spent much of this movie shaking my head, thinking "Trier must really hate his therapist."

Husbands-to-be, take note of everything Willem Dafoe does in this movie

and then do the exact OPPOSITE in real life

Charlotte Gainsbourg is incredible here. Anyone who has listened to her music knows that she has a soothing yet distant, chanteuse-like quality to her voice and it's used quite effectively in "Antichrist." A scene where she is hypnotized to recount her nightmares of traveling through the woods is made highly poetic by the dream-like visuals unfolding onscreen and Charlotte's lulling tones.

Towards the end of the film, when Gainsbourg is asked to summon all the fury of her feminine rage, she really gives her all…no, I mean, really. She goes farther than just about any other actress would have and was clearly fully committed to the role. It's a fearless performance.

Don't fuck with Charlotte Gainsbourg

For a film that seeks to expose the evil inherent in nature and the darkness waiting for all of us there, it's worth noting that "Antichrist" is an almost paradoxically beautiful-looking movie. Although I suppose even that fits the theme of the film, with nature luring us into a false sense of security with its outward appearance.

But there's no getting around it: as photographed by Anthony Dod Mantle, "Antichrist" is gorgeous.

Mantle has previously lensed "28 Days Later," "Julien Donkey-Boy," and "Dear Wendy," all visually striking works. He shot "Antichrist" primarily using Red One cameras, the digital camera that is helping make high-definition digital photography extremely affordable for independent productions.

This is a (relatively) low-budget film with photography that rivals most any Hollywood film. But even amidst the serenity of our characters' surroundings, Trier is quick to peel back the skin and reveal what lies beneath: a stillborn deer fetus, blood-sucking ticks, battering acorns, and a wounded fox who charmingly informs us that "Chaos reigns!"

I'm not gonna lie, this little guy is probably my favorite part of the movie

Don't be misled by the hucksters at Entertain Weekly or Rolling Stone: the fact that "Antichrist" has been likened to "torture porn" is more of a comment on our sensationalist, headline-grabbing media than it is on the film itself. Guilt-wracked, cathartic self-mutilation is about as far from the questionable merits of Eli Roth's "Hostel" as you can get; about all they have in common is the use of special effects prosthetics and make-up.

That said, there are certainly times in "Antichrist" when Lars van Trier could toned things down a bit. If you have to go so far as to hire "porno body doubles" for scenes that your actors won't film, then maybe it's a sign you should suggest rather than depict during that particular scene. Considering how far Dafoe and Gainsbourg are willing to go for Trier's art, I don't think that's an unreasonable request (or a call for self-censorship).

I would do anything for your art, Lars von Trier...but I won't do that.

I.e. show my balls onscreen

The audience for this film is admittedly slim. It's too thoughtful and intentionally-paced for gorehounds and it's too graphic for arthouse critics. All that's left are those viewers who are interested in a "transgressive horror film" and who are willing to experience Trier's bleak, neurotic view of the world without passing immediate judgment on the man.

John Waters said it best when he named "Antichrist" one of his top ten films of the year: "If Ingmar Bergman had committed suicide, gone to hell, and come back to earth to direct an exploitation/art film for drive-ins, [Antichrist] is the movie he would have made." This is a film about making love in Satan's womb. Enter at your own risk.

D.C. CAB (1983) - 4/5 stars

Release: 1983

Director: Joel Schumacher

Writer: Joel Schumacher (screenplay), Topper Carew and Joel Schumacher (story)

Cast: Adam Baldwin, Max Gail, Mr. T, Charlie Barnett, Gary Busey, The Barbarian Brothers, Gloria Gifford, Marsha Warfield, Bill Maher, DeWayne Jessie, Paul Rodriguez, Irene Cara, Jill Schoelen

Soundtrack: Giorgi Moroder

Claim to fame: Mr. T, Gary Busey, and the Barbarian Brothers occupying the same cinema screen for one brief moment of our now-blessed existences

Rating: 4/5 stars

It's not in the Bible, but I'd be willing to wager that the REAL reason God rested on the 7th day was not because the day before He had created man, but that in creating man He helped create the seed of the idea that would become "D.C. Cab." Which would wear anybody out, all-powerful creator of the universe or not.

What is "D.C. Cab?" It's a 1983 Joel Schumacer film that brings together on celluloid the spectacular and unique talents of Gary Busey, Mr. T, and the Barbarian Brothers. Other noticeable cast members include Adam Baldwin (no relation to the Baldwin brothers, starred in "My Bodyguard" and "Full Metal Jacket"), Bill Maher, and 80's scream queen Jill Schoelen ("The Stepfather").

Is this...Turkish? I love that in some country,

Mr. T and Irene Cara (singer of "Fame") were the

biggest selling points of this movie

This film…okay, a loose narrative is constructed concerning Adam Baldwin as a young, idealistic kid who hitchhikes to Washington D.C. to join a cab company run by his recently-deceased father's old war buddy. Once he arrives, he learns that this particular unit is comprised of some of the most off-the-wall, anti-social degenerates to ever show their face in public.

From there on, the movie becomes a free-form string of barely connected incidents: Mr. T trying to protect his neighborhood and niece from the influence of drug dealers while wearing feathered earrings, Gary Busey's whacked improvisational skills (mostly having to do with bowel movements or oral sex), the Barbarian Brothers being the Barbarian Brothers, and Adam Baldwin forming a tentative friendship with the smooth-talking hustler Charlie Barnett.

It's hard on the streets for a man...and it's even harder for a cab driver.

The soundtrack was composed by Giorgi Moroder, who is a legend in his own right. The man is basically responsible for making the synthesizer a viable instrument for pop music by composing Donna Summer's "I Feel Love" way back in 1977, helping to pave the way for great 80's artists like Depeche Mode and New Order to conquer the charts. Moroder spent the 80's collaborating with and producing for people like Phil Oakley of The Human League and David Bowie, as well as composing music for films like "Midnight Express," "Cat People," and "Scarface." The guy is truly an 80's icon.

That said, his score for "D.C. Cab" is insane. It's full of some of the coolest, most "80's-ish" synth lines I've ever heard - the movie itself rarely has a moment that does not have a synth blaring in the background - but a lot of the music has vocals behind it. And the lyrics are, well, about as cliche as you can get for the "Me decade": every song is about working too hard, pushing it to the limit, trying to survive, or the power of love. Somehow it works.

Giorgi Moroder: You gotta love a German-speaking Italian man...in shades

How could it not work? "D.C. Cab" is so 80's it hurts. Don't get up to go to the bathroom during any point of this movie or you'll probably miss a montage. Mr. T and the Barbarian Brothers' fashion might just make your eyes bleed with their blaring neon colors or matching flannel/suspenders (respectively), or if you're anything like me a smile is going to plastered on your face for 110 minutes straight.

WARNING: for some viewers, this film may inadvertently foster

an intense love of the Barbarian Brothers

There's crass jokes, an early scene at a strip club that's wall-to-wall nudity (leave it to Busey to crash that party), a government-issue flamethrower from Vietnam is played for laughs, and the movie repeatedly hammers home its well-worn theme of self-respect and entrepreneurship.

Uncle Gary is at it again

But just when you think the movie is nothing but a farce, seemingly out of nowhere come these sincere, well-acted scenes that smack you upside the head, like Irene Cara being talked out of her quitting her job or Bill Maher's scarily-accurate monologue about how sometimes working to support your dreams ends up forestalling those dreams indefinitely as you live hand-to-mouth.

"D.C. Cab" is a movie that really has to be experienced to be believed. You may think you know what you're getting into but by the time Mr. T and the Barbarian Brothers literally crash through the dining room walls of a mild-mannered rural family

your expectations will have similarly been smashed. 4 stars for the most gonzo 80's flick I think I've ever seen.