Flicker. Lights dim. Coughing. A solid image appears on the canvas; auto-adjusts, refocuses. A dull hum erupts from a nearby furnace as a set of five familiar claws screech against hollow steel piping. Zoom out to: a darkened theater inside Regal Cinemas. As the film begins, the sound and picture quality are horrible and muddy, like someone shoved a dusty VHS copy into the projector. One hour into the film, Nancy scurries breakneck through the darkened interior of her suburban house on 1428 Elm Street. The background music lashes into a frenzied pace, but the theater speakers barely register a whimper. The audience complains and chuckles incredulously. They dropped 10 bucks for a weak audio feed? More feet shuffle and squeak discordantly, while some finally leave to grab a manager’s attention. Freddy Krueger snarls, “I’ll kill you slow.” He’s barely heard.
Finally, as Nancy trudges up the bisquick stairs, the audio roars to life, almost deafening. Cheers and clapping erupt from the audience. “You little bitch, come to Freddy” is heard quite distinctly. Without warning, the wave of nostalgia strikes. It’s not over. As if by apology, Freddy’s Best Kills- an awesome bundle of death scenes amassed from all six sequels- rolls after the credits.
Smack on the other side of Broward County, meanwhile, a small Miami prop manufacturer/distributor named Toxic Underground Productions was gearing up for the Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning release party at Flippers Cinema. Come opening night, a packed-to-the-gills arcade cordons off a display of a bloodied doll laid prone on a craftsman’s table. Its body is severed at the abdomen, drenched with coagulated blood and spewing intestines. A black kitchen bag is wrapped around the doll’s face, reflecting the piercing glint from two scythe-like blades hooked on the wooden rafters above.
Toxic’s hired help, Orlando Pabellon, introduced this reporter to a pseudo-Leatherface, the infamous horror villain of the “chainsaw” franchise. The costumed fraud portrayed his role with all the acumen of a part-time character actor on the bread line. When he wasn’t wielding his red chainsaw and grabbing small children by the scruff of their tees, he treated spectators to a hyperactive boogie on the Dance Dance Revolution pad. When this reporter asked pseudo-Leatherface if he had any advice for would-be masked serial killers, he merely grunted. A real talker. The Nightmare and Chainsaw screenings were among concerted efforts to garner interest for two New Line Cinema Special Edition DVDs, A Nightmare On Elm Street (1984) and Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974). Although this breathless marketing campaign is certainly not a novel publicity stunt, it’s nevertheless a massive synergy that hopes to corner the big and small screen while targeting the nostalgia-driven public. But before this reporter doles out praise to New Line, how do these Special DVD’s measure against their puny predecessors of old?
Well, Nightmare for one boasts “spine-tingling extras,” including remastered picture and sound, three new featurettes, an alternate ending, director audio commentary and pop-up film prompts and video clips scattered throughout the film. New Line had previously released the entire Nightmare franchise back in ’99, but those scrawny discs housed nary a special feature except production notes.
Massacre is the better of the duo; a sleek tin box set that delivers a comprehensive bevy of featurettes, blooper reels, an interactive Hewitt House tour, deleted scenes, outtakes and audio commentaries aplenty. For young horror enthusiasts, both screenings successfully synthesized an experience unmatched since their original theater runs. If you missed it, don’t fret- although this horror train has departed for obscurity land, New Line would seem remiss not to re-introduce both franchise cash cows sometime later this decade. The nostalgia wave conquers all, it seems.
