KRR: So, Netflix Delivered An Instant Trilogy on 'Fear Street.'
Netflix has long blurred the line between what is television and what is film. From the ten-part docuseries on the Chicago Bulls, The Last Dance, that reads as a singularly long documentary to the interactive television-movie episode-thing that is Black Mirror's Bandersnatch - Netflix has been at the forefront of pushing movie and television culture into the next realm. The company is all but solely responsible for the death of Blockbuster, the creation of exclusive streaming-platform television series, and the rise of binge culture. Now, every major corporation has copied the Netflix model, from Disney to NBC to the Criterion Collection. And yet, Netflix continually finds ways to innovate.
The most recent Netflix creation - Fear Street - returns movies to their original form, one-and-a-half to two-hour projects with beginnings, middles, and ends. Fear Street is a horror movie for the streaming era: Characters with little emotional depth, a plot that's easy to follow while you play on your phone, and a fair serving of nostalgia. To say it's aimed at Zoomers would be an overstatement. Fear Street, which tells the tale of a town cursed by a murderous witch, is aimed at everyone who likes neon lighting, pop culture throwbacks, and superfluous squib work (and has the attention span of a ten year old on the last day of school).
While that may sound like just about every other thing released by Netflix, what makes Fear Street so unique is that it isn't just one film. It's three. Rolled out over the course of three weeks, Fear Street became an instant trilogy: 3 horror films, 3 weeks, 1 story. Once again, Netflix has found a way to blur the line between television and film. Create a franchise, release it like a TV series.
-SPOILERS AHEAD-
Based on the R.L Stine horror series of the same name, Fear Street takes place over the course of three-hundred-odd years, glimpsing the murderous history of Shadyside in 1994, 1978, and 1666. While each movie is a period piece within its respective year, the connective tissue between the films is a group of teenagers in the nineties trying to end the curse of Sarah Fier, the 17th century witch who many believe to have cursed Shadyside as she was put to death. Across the tracks from Shadyside, so to speak, is the aptly named Sunnyvale. Whereas Shadyside is a pit of crime and killers, Sunnyvale is a crime-free pasture of wealth and good fortune. Unsurprisingly, the town rivalry is a not-so-coded message on red-lining, wealth inequality, and racism. While that message gets translated at face value, it is hardly interrogated, as the Shadyside-Sunnyvale rivalry boils down to the lore of the land as the series continues.
That's not to say Fear Street fails. A Netflix film series aimed at frightening teenagers (and kids, and young adults, and older jaded adults, and critics who are somehow even more jaded) on a Friday night isn't exactly the greatest canvas for exploring segregation and systematic oppression. If anything, Fear Street is a success for what it does aim to do: Scare.
This guy is one open mouth away from getting sued by Scream.
The beauty in Fear Street - outside of Netflix's marketing angle - is that it delivers on the horror front without sacrificing its story. To do so, it draws on some past inspirations. To say it borrows from the hallmark horror films of decades past would be an understatement, as there are times when "plagiarizes" feels the more appropriate term. Regardless of the term you use, Fear Street: 1994 brandishes many of the successful traits of Scream and Friday the 13th, while Fear Street: 1978 calls back to Halloween and Texas Chain Saw Massacre. Where the trilogy really makes its chops is in Part 3, Fear Street: 1666, which has traces of The Witch and The Crucible, but is otherwise fairly original, neatly plotting its course through the 17th century settlement that spawned Shadyside and Sunnyvale, before diverging back to the 20th century.
I always give bonus points for torch holding. I'm just a big fan of torches. Movies need more torches.
When Fear Street began early this July, I was skeptical of its ambitious goals. The world building in the first installment, Fear Street: 1994, was shaky, the storyline, formulaic and rushed, and the characters, one-note. As the trilogy progressed however, I found myself giving in to the style of the series more, which made some of the lackluster content easier to swallow. By Fear Street: 1666, it is clear what kind of trilogy this is: Not great, nor original, but one capable of pulling off a three-movie storyline, while navigating multiple stylistic eras.
That storyline is as predictable as they come, which may be a fault of the source material, or may be because of filmmaker Leigh Janiak's focus on style over substance. Either way, in this case, it's a fair trade off. The style of these movies are where it gets its points. The camerawork is top-notch, the lighting department should be paid extra, and the soundtracks are immaculate. (Though, I'd argue they leaned a little too heavily on the greatest hits of the '70s in Part 2.) But the real runaway winner of Fear Street are the killers.
I can't remember if they ever gave this killer a name, but I personally like to call him The Aardvark.
From the outset, it's clear that Sarah Fier may be the "big baddie" in the series, but the killers under her curse are the stars. Despite their murderous rampages happening decades - if not centuries - apart, Fier's killers come back to wreak havoc on Shadyside's residents in 1994. There's a young boy who murders with a baseball bat, a teenage girl who whistles while she slits throats with a straight razor, a lumbering oaf, who sports a double-headed ax and a knapsack over his head, and a Puritan preacher who gouges out the eyes of his victims. There are, of course, many, many other killers, which only adds to the thrill of each film.
Every successful horror film has a memorable character. Often, it is the killer - think Freddie or Michael Myers. Sometimes, it's the protagonist - think Daniel Kaluuya in Get Out or Vera Farmiga in The Conjuring series. Other times, the locale itself is the best character - think Bates Motel in Psycho or the ballet school of Suspiria. Fear Street has none of those three things nailed perfectly, but borrows pieces from each one. Its protagonists are decent enough to stay compelling, the locale is memorable, and the villains (plural, mind you) are more than enough fun to stay engaged and interested as the trilogy plays out.
A beautiful shot from Camp Nightwing, the best locale in the series.
While the events of Fear Street: 1666 wrap up the trilogy's narrative arc nicely, I'd be surprised to learn that it is the last we'll ever see of Shadyside and Sunnyvale. Villains are conquered, killers are caught, and peace is restored, but with the world more fully fleshed out by the end of the trilogy, it'd be such a waste to never return and once again repopulate it with killer killers.
The Fear Street trilogy event may have been the first of its kind, something Netflix is used to proudly boasting, but it may also be just the beginning. A cinematic universe could - and very likely will - branch off of that street. While another instant trilogy probably isn't where Leigh Janiak and Netflix plan on taking this world, we may be living on Fear Street for many years to come. And if history serves us right - just as it does for the residents of Shadyside - the instant trilogy may not be a novelty for much longer.
Did I mention the movies are also about lesbians? Cause they are. Fear Street is unequivocally queer cinema.
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