Hollywood Monster: A Walk Down Elm Street with the Man of Your Dreams
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ONE...TWO...FREDDY'S COMING FOR YOU....
You've seen him in the "A Nightmare on Elm Street" series -- and in your darkest dreams. The sadistic killer with the flame-charred face. The knife-blade claws. The razor-sharp wit. "Freddy."..But you've never seen him like this. Unflinching. Uncensored. Un"masked."
Meet Robert Englund, the award-winning actor best known for his role as Freddy Krueger -- the legendary horror icon featured on the American Film Institute's "100 Greatest Heroes and Villains" roster -- a character as unforgettable and enduring as Bela Lugosi's Dracula and Boris Karloff's Frankenstein. Now, for the first time, the man behind the latex mask tells his story in this captivating new memoir, published to celebrate the twenty-fifth anniversary of the first "A Nightmare on Elm Street" film.
You see, Robert Englund is no monster at all, but a deeply funny, charming Hollywood veteran. Packed with Robert's hilarious stories, playful self-deprecation, and a generous helping of never-before-revealed "A Nightmare on Elm Street" trivia, "Hollywood Monster" offers an unparalleled look at the beloved film icon. With insider savvy and gallows humor, Robert recounts his audition for Wes Craven, the inspiration for Freddy's character, the grueling makeup sessions, his soon-to-be-famous costars, the often disastrous on-set blunders, and the wave of popularity that propelled this humble California surfer kid all the way to the top.
Of course, fame and fortune as Freddy came years after the young actor shared a trailer with screen legend Henry Fonda, was punched in the face by Richard Gere, took down Burt Reynolds, and muscled his way between Arnold Schwarzenegger, Sally Field, and Jeff Bridges.
But soon after his high-profile stint in the groundbreaking TV miniseries V, Robert Englund took on the most celebrated role of his career -- the macabre and wisecracking killer who quickly became a household name. From the moment Freddy Krueger dragged his claws across a rusty pipe in the opening dream sequence, a legend had been unleashed -- and a star was born. This is his story.
""Welcome to prime time, bitch."
" -- Frederick Charles Krueger, bastard son of a hundred maniacs
little-known sci-fi and horror movies. (Mark was a serious horror fanatic, complete with a subscription to Famous Monsters magazine.) He was a die-hard fan of The Mary Tyler Moore Show, and he loved his Heineken. Mark clued me in to quality TV, and introduced me to the delights of watching old Marx Brothers movies in the middle of the afternoon. Simply put, he helped me to lighten up. My agent sent me up to read for the part of the surfer in Apocalypse Now. I wore an old khaki, thrift-store army
stages in the wee hours. It also nudged me closer to being an official cog in the New Hollywood machine. For better or worse, the stage, my classical training, and Lee Strasberg’s class were becoming a somewhat distant, albeit beloved, memory. Whether I knew it—or admitted it—Jan’s gang affected my acting. Despite my “Stay casual, Barlow” moment during Big Wednesday, I generally stuck to what was written on the page, but Michael’s, Jan’s, and Peter’s ease with improv—and their joy when they came
transform into Freddy Krueger. Wes and Bob Shaye, the head of New Line Cinema, who was producing A Nightmare on Elm Street, joined me on my second trip to David’s place to check the progress of the makeup. The fourteen pieces of the Freddy face needed to be colored (they were still in their pale pink powdered-latex condition) and assembled on my neck, ears, nose, lips, cheeks, forehead, and all the way down to my chest. It was like a huge Freddy Krueger puzzle. Once all the pieces were glued to
hundred bucks?” and our guys would say, “Shit, Chuck, we can name that tune for $99.99.” This gifted young FX crew could watch a new effect in a big-budget movie and duplicate it for pennies on the dollar. Bob Shaye and his creative gang at New Line also assembled one hell of a cast for the movie. Heather Langenkamp was back and, as always, a real trouper. The character Kristen was played by a nineteen-year-old knockout named Patricia Arquette, whom all the young males in the cast desired. These
seat, jammed the key in the ignition, and shifted into reverse. I couldn’t take off the way I wanted to because, after all, I was in a parking lot, so my pursuers were able to stay with me as I drove toward the exit. Eventually, I shook them and made it safely onto the freeway. Or so I thought. Two minutes later, an old, beat-to-hell Dodge Dart drew even with me on my driver’s side. The car’s driver laid on the horn, opened his window, and stuck his smiling face out. “Yo, Freddy,” the kid