Four teenagers on Elm Street start having the same nightmare: a scarred man in a dirty fedora chasing them through a boiler room, scraping his bladed glove along the pipes. When one of them dies in her sleep, Nancy Thompson (Heather Langenkamp) realises the dreams are real, and that she cannot stay awake forever.
The idea is brilliant and simple. Freddy can strike anywhere, at any moment, as soon as you close your eyes. Craven blurs dreams and reality so smoothly that you never feel safe, even in a classroom or a bathtub. Robert Englund's Freddy is truly menacing here, far darker and quieter than the joking Freddy of the later sequels.
Heather Langenkamp makes Nancy one of horror's best final girls: clever, stubborn and brave, setting traps instead of just running. John Saxon and Ronee Blakley play parents who refuse to listen, and a young Johnny Depp is charming as Glen. Charles Bernstein's eerie synth score is just as iconic as the glove.
Some acting is stiff, and a few effects look homemade by today's standards. But the dream scenes, from Tina dragged up the walls to the famous blood geyser, still look wild and inventive. Forty years on, it remains one of the scariest slashers ever made.










