A Nightmare on Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors (1987)

Directed by Chuck Russell. Written by Russell, Wes Craven, Frank Darabont and Bruce Wagner. Starring Robert Englund, Heather Langenkamp, Patricia Arquette, Rodney Eastman, Ken Sagoes, Jennifer Rubin, Craig Wasson, Priscilla Pointer, Laurence Fishburne and John Saxon.

Plot: Nancy’s back and she’s helping a group of kids in Weston Hills survive Freddy.

The movie opens with a nice little quote by Edgar Allan Poe: “Sleep. Those little slices of death. How I loathe them.”

Kristen (Arquette) has a nightmare and ends up cut so they put her into the now infamous, Weston Hills, because they think she did it to herself. Nancy Thompson (Langenkamp) gets a job working at Weston Hills and finds out that all the teenage patients there are having Freddy dreams, but the main doctor, Dr. Simms (Pointer), believes it’s a “shared delusion”. A shared delusion! Crazy.

Anyway, Kristen has another dream and somehow pulls Nancy into it. It turns out to be her “dream power”. All the kids have different dream powers. (FYI – if I had a dream power it’d be telekinesis and DJ’s would be immovability, like the Juggernaut from Marvel comics.) The calculating Dr. Simms won’t believe them though (about the dreams or the powers) and so she won’t go along with Nancy wanting to prescribe them Hypnocil, a dream suppressant. So, Freddy starts to kill them one by one.

In this story, Nancy has help defeating Freddy from an actual good doctor, Dr. Gordon (Wasson). But there’s an unbelievable storyline twist in that they have to go and find Freddy’s bones so that they can bury him properly. If he’s buried properly then he can’t hurt the children anymore. It’s really a trainwreck of a movie. The Freddy skeleton is horrible. It’s a corny film. But there are some good aspects.

The acting is good on the part of most everybody. The innovation is great. Jumpscares are there as per usual. And you get boob shoots, too. While it doesn’t maintain a high score, it’s good for a showing. I mean, Freddy’s an icon. He’s just a lot scarier when you’re little.

My score: 38. DJ’s score: 40.

“Welcome to Prime Time, Bitch!”

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