On August 30, 2015, Wes Craven, horror film icon, died at the age of 76. I realize that there are more important things going on in the world, but this hit me like a fucking freight train when I saw the story. I'd like to take a few minutes to tell you why.
When I was in middle school, I had a lot of trouble sleeping. We had HBO, Starz, Showtime, and other premium channels in our house, so I would often sneak down into the living room and watch movies that were either beyond my maturity level or out of reach on standard channels. It was here that I first discovered films like The Road Warrior, Escape From New York, Rosemary's Baby, The Princess Bride, and Walter Hill's The Warriors. It was also where I first saw stand-up comedy specials from the likes of Robin Williams, Steve Martin, Eddie Murphy, Richard Pryor, and Gilda Radner. I was getting a decent dosage of classic sci-fi, action, fantasy, comedy, and horror, and I absolutely loved it. Looking back, it's probably the reason why I'm so fucked up today, but I digress. I had found something I loved that also gave me something to do when I couldn't sleep.
One night when I was in sixth grade, I looked at the guide for HBO to see if there were any cool horror movies coming on, like Friday the 13th or The Evil Dead. I saw that what was about to start was a movie called A Nightmare on Elm Street. I had heard of this film before, and knew the legendary face of Freddy Krueger, but I'd never seen any of the movies before. I decided to give it a shot, to see if it was as scary and awesome as everyone said. I watched it, and it wasn't. But goddamn it if it wasn't even better than that. The image of Freddy haunted me for weeks afterwards. I also remembered another name from the credits: Wes Craven.
It said that Wes Craven had written and directed the movie, so I knew that it was he who was responsible for the terror I felt. I knew immediately that I had to watch every single Wes Craven movie I could find in order to feel that terror again.
Over the next few weeks, I managed to find films by Wes Craven, watch them, then re-watch them religiously. I was addicted to Ghostface from Scream, to the cannibals from the original The Hills Have Eyes, to the People Under the Stairs, to the ancient spirit disguised as a badass Freddy Krueger lookalike in New Nightmare. Wes Craven had suddenly become a dominating force in my life, and I just couldn't get enough. Don't get me wrong, I still enjoyed watching a rerun of The Breakfast Club or The Texas Chain Saw Massacre or Jim Henson's Labyrinth, but I felt a compulsion to see the films of Wes Craven consistently. He was ruining my fucking life, goddamn it, and I loved him for it.
Whenever people ask me who the ultimate master of horror cinema is, Wes Craven is always my go-to answer. Don't get me wrong, I still love the work of filmmakers like Sam Raimi, Roman Polanski, Tobe Hooper, and Dario Argento, but Craven IS horror cinema for me. He would've been just on the basis of the films I've already listed, but there's one movie that, to me, defines why Wes Craven reigns supreme. To this day, the only horror movie that stands above it in my eyes is Rosemary's Baby. And it's a close fucking finish, let me tell you.
About six months after I had first seen A Nightmare on Elm Street, I was mindlessly flipping through the channel listings when I came across a movie called The Last House on the Left. The description said something like this: From the mind of horror movie icon Wes Craven, this 1972 masterwork of terror and revenge is a precursor to the countless slasher flicks that followed. This "important gore landmark" (Science Fiction Horror and Fantasy Film Review) is chock-full of unrelenting terror in the legendary writer/director's first film.
Gore landmark? Unrelenting terror? Wes Craven? First? I was sold.
I knew going into it that a director's first movie wasn't always up to par with their later works, so I didn't let myself get too excited right away. I also knew what the first films made by Sam Raimi, Tobe Hooper, Quentin Tarantino, and Tim Burton were, so that gave me some hope. Then there was the simple fact that Wes Craven's name was attached to it, so I let myself get excited again. My excitement was well worth it, and then some.
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See You In My Nightmares: A Remembrance of Wes Craven
Non-FictionMy tribute to the master of horror cinema, Wes Craven.