Nightmare on Elm Street

script used with courtesey of Daily Script

Wes Craven’s A NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET

1A. INT. (MONTAGE). 1A.

NIGHTMARE MUSIC THEME begins as we FADE UP on a SERIES OF SHOTS, all CLOSE and teasing.

— A man’s FEET, in shabby work shoes, stalking through a junk bin in a dark, fire-lit, ash- dusted place. A huge BOILER ROOM is what it

is, although we only glimpse it piecemeal. Then we SEE a MAN’S HAND, dirty and nail-bitten, reach INTO FRAME and pick up a piece of METAL.

— ANOTHER ANGLE as the HAND grabs a grimey WORKGLOVE and slashes at it with a straight razor, until its fingertips are off.

— CLOSE ON SAME HANDS dumping four fishing knives out of a filthy bag. Their blades are thin, curved, gleaming sharp.

— MORE ANGLES, EVEN CLOSER. We can HEAR the MAN’s wheezing BREATHING, but we still haven’t seen

his face. We never will. We just SEE more metal being assembled with crude tools, into some sort of linkage — a splayed, spidery sort of apparatus, against a background light of FIRE, and a deep rushing of STEAM and HEAVY, DARK ENERGY.

— And then we see this linkage attached to the glove.

— Then the BLADES attached to all of it.

— Then the MAN’S HAND slips into this glove-like apparatus, filling it out and transforming it into an awesome, deadly claw-hand with four razor/talons gleaming at its blackened

fingertips. Suddenly the HAND arches and STRIKES FORWARD, SLASHING THROUGH a DARK CANVAS, tearing it to shreds.

1. EXT. LOS ANGELES. NIGHT. (2nd Unit) 1.

A PULSATION OF LIGHT AND SHADOW. MUSIC DROPS AWAY to a hushed

RUSHING OF WIND and DISTANT SIRENS. CAMERA RACKS INTO FOCUS on a HIGH PANORAMA of the San Fernando Valley, its night sky lit from within by a strange GREENISH LIGHT. TITLES BEGIN.

CAMERA TILTS DOWN and ZOOMS SWIFTLY into the valley’s web of light.

CUT TO:

2. INT. CONCRETE PASSAGEWAY. 2.

TITLES CONTINUE as TINA GRAY, a strong girl of fifteen in a thin night shift, moves towards us down a dark concrete corridor. Her steps quicken as TITLES appear in the portion of frame she leaves

free.

A subliminal COLLAGE of SOUND threads in and out of the MUSIC. Distant insane LAUGHTER. Slamming iron DOORS. A bleating animal CRY. A LAMB, white and blank-faced, skitters across her path and on into the dark. No reason why it’s there.

Then another SOUND, much nearer — the slithering SCRAPE of something like fingernails across slate. It sets our teeth on edge, twists the MUSIC, and sends TINA running.

3. INT. BOILER ROOM. 3.

Suddenly TINA’s a tiny figure running among huge boilers steam

pipes and catwalks — a shadowed forest of iron and stone. She stops, listening intently as the SOUND of tiny hooves suddenly turns into the rattle of DISTANT RAIN.

Then she hears RIPPING FABRIC.

Someone is shouldering behind a ragged screen of dirty canvas,

approaching TINA.

CLOSER ON THE CANVAS. The long curved fingerblades suddenly

punch through, flashing in the firelight, and begin ripping through the thick fabric, as easily as scalpels through flesh. They make a hideous, extended RIPPING SOUND.

TINA rushes away, hands over her ears.

ANOTHER ANGLE — as the blinded girl stumbles backwards. Then the canvas flaps free. The blades are gone. The TITLES END, and everything goes silent.

CAMERA CIRCLES until TINA’s looking right into our eyes. The

light from a nearby boiler pours through her thin night dress, leaving her naked and vulnerable. Then a deep, ragged VOICE whispers at her as CAMERA CLOSES IN ON HER FACE.

VOICE (O.S.) One two, Freddie’s coming for you…

TINA opens her mouth to scream but only a dry, yellow dust pours out. And at that precise moment a huge shadowy MAN with a grimey red and yellow sweater and a weird hat pulled over his scarred face lunges at her. And it’s his fingers that are tipped with the long blades of steel, glinting in the boney light and giving the hulk the look of an otherworldly predator.

TINA dodges away, her legs suddenly elephantine and slow. The MAN seizes the trailing hem of her nightgown and hauls her back.

The MUSIC shrieks as TINA manages to tear free — the MAN lurches after her with a hoarse SHOUT as we —

SMASH CUT TO:

4. INT. TINA’S BEDROOM. NIGHT. 4.

TINA convulses in bed with a SCREAM, looking around wildly. Someone is KNOCKING on her door.

WOMAN’S VOICE (O.S.) You okay, Tina?

TINA’S MOTHER sticks her head in with a worried look. TINA sits up and blows out a breath, groggy.

TINA Just a dream, Ma… (more to herself)

Damn dream, is all…

The woman, once attractive, ventures a step into the room. A MAN hovers BACKGROUND. TINA’S mother waves him away without looking, shoving a strand of bleached hair from her eyes. She appraises her daughter.

TINA’S MOTHER Some dream, judging from that.

She nods at TINA’s nightshift.

TINA looks down at her nightgown, only now aware of the chill penetrating it from the room. There are four long slashes up its

middle, cleanly cut as if by scalpels.

MAN (OS) (distant, annoyed) You coming back to the sack or what?

TINA’S MOTHER Hold your horses. (lower, to Tina as she stands to leave) You gotta cut your nails or stop that kind of dreaming, Tina. One

or the other.

The woman shuts the door behind her. TINA looks back to her nightgown.

TINA (low)

Oh, shit.

She suddenly snatches up the cross that hangs over her head, her face white as her sheet.

FADE TO BLACK

BURN ON

5. THE FIRST DAY 5.

CHILDREN (OS) (singing) One two, Freddie’s coming for you… Three four better lock your door Five six grab your crucifix…

6. EXT. HIGH SCHOOL. DAY. 6.

FADE UP ON SHOT OF this large highschool and its crowds of STUDENTS. FOREGROUND, TINA climbs out of a cherry-red 1959 Cadillac convertible with two other students, best friend NANCY WILSON, and Nancy’s boyfriend and owner of the car, GLEN LANTZ.

FOREGROUND several GRADESCHOOLERS are playing jump-rope, and the old ditty they sing continues unbroken from TINA’s bedroom.

ROPE JUMPERS Seven eight, gonna stay up late! Nine ten — never sleep again!

7. MOVING ANGLE FAVORING NANCY. She’s a pretty girl in a letter 7. sweater, with an easy, athletic stride and the look of a natural leader. GLEN, holding her hand, wears one of the school’s football jerseys; a good-natured, bright kid. Tina’s in mid-conversation.

TINA

(referring to kids’ song) That’s what it reminded me of — that old jump rope song. (shudders) Worst nightmare I ever had. You wouldn’t believe it.

Nancy nods.

NANCY Matter of fact I had a bad dream last night myself…

TINA turns to NANCY, but before either can say more, ROD LANE, a

lean, Richard Gere sort in black leather and New Wave studs joins up with them and interupts.

ROD (to Tina) Had a hardon this morning when I woke up, Tina. Had your name

written all over it.

Tina cracks her gum with a look of withering indifference.

TINA There’s four letters in my name, Rod. How could there be room

on your joint for four letters?

The guy’s stopped in his tracks.