Continuing with the natural devolution that hampers many populist film series, this outing gives the star of the show, Freddy Krueger, an abundance of wisecracks and corny one-liners. In the tradition of slasher movie sequels, there are more bodies and the deaths are more elaborate. Elaborate beyond all rational boundaries. What motive could a supernatural murderer like Freddy possibly have for constructing all these complicated dreams and dressing up as characters in it? I liked Freddy a lot better when he was just a killer and not a master of ceremonies.
The plot, which continues where the third movie left off, takes its first wrong turn when Freddy is revived by flaming dog urine. He begins his reign of terror again, this time moving beyond Elm Street. Although the means by which he does so makes a curious sort of twisted sense, provided one can accept that these kids can "pull" each other into their dreams inadvertently, but not much else does. When one of the kids is burned alive in her bed, we are never shown the real world consequences of that. What about the kid who drowns in a water bed? Isn't anyone the least bit curious how all these teenagers keep dying? But no, this movie is too lazy to get into such details. It focuses on one character long enough for him to be knocked off, then moves on to the next. Sorry, but "by the numbers" serial killer flicks not only don't work, they're exploitative abominations. There's absolutely no reason for this piece of tripe to exist at all.
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