When I heard what the subtitles were for each of the Fear Street movies, Part Three was the one I was most interested in. 90s and 70s nostalgia has been done, but to then forsake that crutch and go as far back as 1666, a whopping three centuries, is an ambitious move. It completely redefines the environment of the piece, places it outside of any relatable context, and presumably reorients the series into more folk-heavy connotations, which I personally am more compelled by than the traditional slasher. But a proper folk horror film doesn’t fit so easily within the aesthetic architecture this series has crafted for itself in its’ campy world and teen themed drama, and so it’s no wonder Leigh Janiak abandons the setting prematurely for an extended final act in 1994. It’s disappointing but also inevitable.
Given how much these films function as serialized television, there was no real reason Fear Street had to be a trilogy -beyond just the general obsession we as a culture have with the idea of a trilogy as a storytelling format. Indeed the film teases a sequel, and there are clearly a lot of stories between 1666 and 1974 that could have been showcased had Janiak or Netflix or R.L. Stine wanted. By constructing the series in this way and with the novelty of each installment going further back in time, Fear Street: 1666 was kinda forced into a corner. It had to function as both backstory episode and series finale, and as such it lacks the pervasive identity both of its’ predecessors had. It’s kind of a mess for this, though a mess with some strong isolated moments.
What should be the most independent installment given its’ drastic departure in setting, 1666 is in fact the most fiercely reliant on the continuity and story threads of the films that came before. I like the way that the transition to its’ period is made though (more inventive than the simple flashback storytelling of 1978), which sees Kiana Madeira’s Deena experiencing a vision wherein she inhabits the body of 17th century Shadyside witch Sarah Feir, consequently seeing everyone in the village as approximations of people she knows. It recalls one of the best episodes of Star Trek, DS9’s “Far Beyond the Stars”, which used a similar device as a means of dealing with racism in a uniquely direct way for that franchise. However, the Fear Street series has been pretty direct already in its’ handling of homophobia, and so it’s no surprise when that turns up as the source of the villagers’ unfounded calls of witchcraft against the young Sarah. A throughline in these films and especially of this and the first is the domineering system of social sexual repression, and the bravery it takes to defy it. Both Deena and Sarah are active agents in their own sexual identity, compared to Sam and Hannah –Olivia Scott Welch’s dual role- who are more insecure in light of the stigma, at least at first. 1666 as it concerns this focal relationship is a good mirror of 1994 right down to their opposing outcomes (at least until 1994 rears its’ head again). Janiak does an apt job demonstrating that same boldness exemplified by her characters, proud of her trilogy’s unencumbered representation and fearless sexual openness.
But while that internal theming remains solid, the world around it is not, and that mostly just comes down to how unbelievable the settlement of Union (precursor to both Shadyside and Sunnyvale) is. For starters, just about everyone attempting that Anglo-American pilgrim accent does not do so convincingly, which coupled with the fact so many of the characters are teenagers really makes the whole 1666 arena feel like a high school production of The Crucible. Which is unfortunate because this installment has a few of the creepier scenes of the trilogy. The discovery in the church of the preacher with several dead children, all of whom with their eyes gouged out and in some pile of flesh on the floor, is one of the most disturbing moments of these films, as is the aftermath of a local pig having eaten its’ young. The eeriness of these events combined with Sarah’s doubts of her innocence and internalized homophobia make for an intrepid pairing. But its’ effect is curtailed by a drop in performance quality and a very limited scope. It’s also not long before the plot overtakes the drama in a less than satisfactory way.
Though I get the importance of Sarah being relieved of the burden of witchcraft for the sake of the films’ greater theme on intolerance, I don’t particularly think the twist it was substituted for is all that interesting -certainly not compared to the alternative. Sarah being an actual vengeful witch and the victim of cruel bigotry don’t have to be mutually exclusive notions -ParaNorman of all things illustrated that very well. A story choice similar to this would have put the responsibility for the towns’ curse on the town themselves; systemic bigotry creating monsters and all that. Instead it pins the blame on one guy whose Faustian bargain is the source of all the trouble over the centuries that Sarah has merely been the scapegoat of.
And so in the film returning to 1994 for its hour-long conclusion, it’s rather disappointing this means the solution to the curse is just a matter of killing one person. There isn’t any nuance to grapple with, nothing that needs to be atoned for. This is fine on its’ own, it just makes for less engaging stakes, and Janiak isn’t quite capable of buffeting them enough. For what it’s worth, she manages to drag her climax out without stalling the pacing much, bringing in Darrell Britt-Gibson for no other reason than that he’s a charismatic actor, and focusing on an elaborate effort to booby trap the mall. But it doesn’t accomplish much in terms of greater story tension -once she’s executed and the narrative switches back to Deena, Sarah’s role in the trilogy feels like a red herring. There’s no denying this part of the movie is very atmospherically disjointed from what came before too, shuffling off that preternatural mystique for a return to unambiguous monster thwarting, with a touch of Dawn of the Dead homage. Indeed it really is like two movies squeezed into one. There’s some fun to it for sure, the mall makes for a more versatile set than anything in 1666, and there’s a charming laissez-faire attitude to the plots’ own contrivances that indicates it knows exactly who its’ for -but it doesn’t hit very strongly. And the epilogue is functionally identical to what 1994 ended on before its’ last minute anticlimax.
There’s an argument to be made that this series would have been better were it an anthological trilogy, with each film presenting its own story and characters while only sharing a setting across generations. And I won’t lie, it’s sort of what I would have preferred too. 1994 works perfectly as just its’ own thing up to the end, as does 1978 barring its’ framing device. 1666 would have been vastly improved simply with more time spent in that era and without a reliance on a cast and plot obligations borrowed from another film -but continuity isn’t the only source of its’ shortcomings. The film still could have worked at continuing that narrative of the previous two while maintaining an independent integrity. It’s difficult but it has been done.
I think at the end of this curiously distributed trilogy, the model is still more fascinating than the product itself, though time will tell if it worked out better (see if anyone is talking about Fear Street come Halloween). Certainly through that lens of television it worked well enough and should be a lesson for Netflix to return to a weekly release schedule for original TV shows, as has worked out on other streaming services far better than Netflix’s dumping strategy. I’ll admit it’s part of what kept me interested in Fear Street. As for the series, the fact it doesn’t really come together in the end shouldn’t take away from the worthwhile components that are there, especially in the first film. It’s a series I can easily see finding a special place with a niche audience. For that I’m glad it happened this way.
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