If you stick around enough horror fans in October, there will be a general consensus that the holy trinity of slasher movies are: Michael Meyers, Jason Vorhees, and Freddy Kreuger. Oh sure, there are dozens and maybe hundreds of knock-offs over the past decades, but since the late-70s, these three have dominated with endless sequels, remakes, TV series, and anything that they can slap their name onto. Each provides their own flavor on murderous mayhem, and it makes sense why people keep turning to them, even if one could argue that some of the films are more reflective of cynical cash-ins, mostly existing for the cheap thrills.
If Freddy vs. Jason (2003) is to be believed, Freddy and Jason are the ones who end up duking it out for the top spot, and for good reason. Whereas Jason has always been a reputable B-Movie icon, murdering horny teenagers in clever ways; Freddy started out as something greater. He was the brainchild of Wes Craven, who turned A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984) into one of the most magnificent surrealist horror movies of its time. Everything about it works because of haunting practical effects, and the fact that it launched Johnny Depp’s career is an added bonus.
If nothing else, Freddy still has the best hook of them all. He only attacks you in your dreams. Everyone has to fall asleep sometime, which only makes you vulnerable. Frankly, the sequels go into some dark (other times campy) directions that are disturbing but feel ultimately inessential compared to Jason’s stories. While the Friday the 13th (1980) series feels redundant, it does so in such a way that is plausible, reliable. Even if you love Robert Englund as Freddy, you’ll have to admit that sometimes it’s skidding by on his demented charm.
But one of the most incredible things about A Nightmare on Elm Street couldn’t have happened if it wasn’t for a series of sequels. Along came a song that caused quite a ruckus that led to a lawsuit and a wonderful music video featuring a knock-off Freddy Kreuger (disclaimer and all). To understand this story, one needs to travel to 1988 when New Line Cinema released its fourth movie The Dream Master (1988). No, I’m not talking about the sanctioned Fat Boys song “Are You Ready for Freddy” or the Razzie-nominated song (Virgil’s “Therapist”). In fact, it wasn’t even in the movie.
Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the stage The Fresh Prince and DJ Jazzy Jeff.
It may be difficult to believe in 2020, but the man who once decided that a Disney song could be improved by yelling “DJ KHALED!” over it was once a young, aspiring artist. The duo was in the middle of an impressive period for their career. Following their 1987 debut “Rock the House,” the duo was on track to win the first Grammy Award for Best Rap Performance for “Parents Just Don’t Understand” and release their second album. It was the major breakthrough that would lead Smith especially to a fairly successful TV career with The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air and an Oscar-nominated film career. But first, he had to deal with New Line Cinema.
The lead track on their three-times platinum album “He’s the DJ, I’m the Rapper” has traces of being an authentic number that you’d expect to be featured in The Dream Master (or any of them, to be honest). “A Nightmare on My Street” seems like a genuinely cool concept for a rap-story song, and Smith was vanilla enough to make the horror a bit silly. This was a tongue-in-cheek number that wouldn’t be out of place along with the novelty horror songs of yesteryear. In the time of slashers, this was their generation’s version of Boris Picket’s “Monster Mash,” finding an evening of consuming movies leading to a horrifying scenario.
For those who come to the music video first, there is one thing that may be jarring right off the bat. It includes a disclaimer that says it’s not involved or sanctioned in any way by New Line Cinema or anyone involved with A Nightmare on Elm Street’s legacy. They already had The Fat Boys. They were good. They didn’t need these wimps sticking around. When the video ends, the disclaimer returns with the same suggestion, including the fact that this is a complaint made directly towards the fourth entry.
So, what’s going on?
The first thing that’s a bit jarring for audiences will likely be how an unlicensed song got the rights to use Charles Bernstein’s musical motif for the franchise. If there was a melodic device used to recognize the movie, it was the main hook to this song. It may be why one is not immediately confused as to why this is actually an off-brand anthem. Smith has this way of playing cute so that he never outright references the film in clear language. Sure, there is a “Freddy,” but he sounds like a hoarse knock-off, and he lives at “Something on Elm Street.” Notice how “Kreuger” is never said. Sure, everything may sound in place, but it’s more of a reference than connectivity to the plot.
I know it is a longshot to complain about this because there feels like a genuine passion. This is a song designed to empathize with those who watch horror movies to have the pants scared off of them. It’s goofy in just the right way (not to mention the strange idea that Will Smith could ever release a “horrorcore” song like Wikipedia suggests) and it explains why Smith had one of the most marketable careers of any 80s rapper in the group. He wasn’t trying to be hard. He was the kind of guy you’d want to be friends with, and that comes through in the fact that this song doesn’t find him playing tough. He’s as vulnerable as any of us.
Like all rap-story songs, it has its ups and downs. So long as it’s telling a story that you care about, it remains this interesting endeavor. Thankfully, there is something atmospheric about it that leaves you latched onto every word, wondering how The Fresh Prince is going to get out of it. There’s acting from additional players, including a noteworthy role by DJ Jazzy Jeff who starts the music video in the hospital and ends with him in bed (while Smith is calling him after a long night’s rest). It’s all confusing, but it works in that middle-class way. Add in flashier tassels and you may actually see this song playing over the closing credits of The Dream Master.
Because that’s what’s bizarre about the music video. Even as Smith is telling you that his bandmates have gotten off tour and are going to the cinemas with their girlfriends, there is one thing that’s out of place. He’s saying that he’s watching A Nightmare on Elm Street, but anyone who knows the least amount about the franchise will notice that this is far from true. At most he’s watching something that Michael Jackson watched in the “Thriller” music video. It’s this generic mix of public domain horror full of macabre-but-not-gross images that have little to do with Freddy. They don’t even pretend to look like they’d exist in that franchise. There’s no bed, no murder, just weird-looking stuff.
That is before you get to Freddy, who looks like a Max Headroom knock-off that is a bit pale and talks like Freddy through a voice modulator while constipated. Again, he’s mostly chasing Smith around a room as he rejects the idea that he’s awake. The story itself is fun, but you would have a gross misunderstanding of who Kreuger was if this was your only experience with him. Sure, you’d get the dreams stuff figured out, but there’s something trivial about him. Even as Smith references that he wouldn’t be friends with nails that long, there’s little to suggest that this Freddy actually has anything on his fingers but nubs. The closest this gets to feeling like a genuine A Nightmare on Elm Street homage is the use of surreal images of hands appearing from boxes to hand Smith the phone and dial Jeff’s number.
So much feels off that you wouldn’t expect this from a rap group who was about to have a big break. Given that The Dream Master had a fairly hip soundtrack otherwise, one has to wonder what caused this song to not be used. It wasn’t poor timing as “A Nightmare on My Street” was released 18 days before the film. Even if New Line Cinema did everything in their power to keep it from coming out, it leads to something rather nefarious.
Yes, the song was rejected by the studio. However, that wasn’t enough to bury the song entirely. Instead, the duo put it as the lead song on “He’s the DJ, I’m the Rapper” and released the aforementioned music video. There were a handful of issues with this. Due to certain copyrights (mostly around the sampling of Bernstein’s score), they went to court to try and have the song pulled from existence. It only kind of worked, as the music video was pulled from the airs, though copies have emerged in odd places.
Much like the video, copies of the album came with the advisory that this was an unauthorized song and had nothing to do with the franchise. It’s amazing given that the song is just good enough for a fun listen and not really the best that The Fresh Prince and DJ Jazzy Jeff ever did. It was a novelty song that riled its target, arguably with success. The question as to whether it’s more memorable than “Are You Ready for Freddy” is up for debate because at least The Fat Boys managed to get Englund to voice the scariest dream man.
How far does A Nightmare on Elm Street’s legacy go? It’s got a diverse enough pool that it even can afford a knock-off song from a future Oscar-nominee. It’s a franchise that always sought to be hip and cool, and despite not having sequels on par with Jason’s, they manage to stick around and give us reason to be scared of our dreams. It may be his ultimate downfall, as the abstraction of the dream can lead to some weird and sometimes nonsensical things that you don’t get from Jason or Michael. It’s why he’s the wildcard, who can be great in the right hands and insufferable in others.
But one thing is clear. He has the best hook and one that makes for some pretty fun songs. While there’s plenty to argue that “A Nightmare on My Street” is a hokey pop-rap song, it manages to capture the tension everyone faces when watching the film. More than anything, this is a good song about getting together and watching scary movies during Halloween season, beating the heat, and enjoying your naivety in youth. It may not be the most revolutionary song, but in that way, it’s more deserving of recognition than what New Line Cinema gave them. I don’t know if it would’ve fit, but it deserved to go somewhere.
Comments
Post a Comment