Freddy gets the party started!

If A Nightmare on Elm Street was Freddy’s introduction to society, then Freddy’s Revenge is his twisted coming-out party, except he’s taken up residence inside a teenage boy’s body, and things get… complicated. Released just a year after Wes Craven’s original, Part 2 stands out as the oddball of the Elm Street franchise, daring to ditch Freddy’s dreamworld MO in favour of a possession plot that cranks the psychological horror up to 11, while sneaking in a thick slice of queer subtext that’s since earned it cult status.

The plot revolves around Jesse Walsh (Mark Patton), the poor guy who’s moved into Nancy Thompson’s old house. Freddy Krueger (Robert Englund) wastes no time making Jesse’s life a living nightmare—except this time, Freddy’s got a new trick up his mangled sleeve. Instead of slicing and dicing through people’s dreams, Freddy wants to possess Jesse and use his body to wreak havoc in the real world. And that’s where Freddy’s Revenge takes its biggest leap: no more dream logic, just a possession story with a razor-fingered twist.

Mark Patton’s Jesse is one of the most fascinating horror protagonists you’re likely to find. He’s not your typical final guy, and his journey is dripping with subtext that isn’t even trying to be subtle. As Freddy tightens his grip, Jesse’s internal struggle is as much about accepting himself as it is about battling the world’s creepiest sleep demon. The line “He’s inside me, and he wants to take me again!” might as well have come with a giant neon sign flashing SUBTEXT! Patton sells Jesse’s confusion, vulnerability, and frustration with such intensity that you can’t help but root for him—even as his body count rises.

Of course, the film wouldn’t be Freddy’s Revenge without Freddy himself, and Englund is back in full force, swapping out some of the dreamscape surrealism for a more intimate, menacing performance. Freddy is playing mind games here, and they hit a little closer to home this time. Englund’s Freddy is still nasty, still leering, but now he’s toying with Jesse in a way that feels horribly intimate—and for horror fans, that’s where the film gets its teeth.

The film also veers gloriously off the rails with the infamous pool party massacre, where Freddy busts out of Jesse’s body and starts laying waste to teens left and right—in broad daylight, no less. It’s the most “wait, what?” moment in the movie and a perfect example of why this sequel feels so distinct. Freddy running wild outside of the dream world makes Freddy’s Revenge the black sheep of the series, but it’s also what makes it so memorable. It’s a departure from the formula, sure, but when has Freddy ever played by the rules?

Visually, Freddy’s Revenge keeps that grimy, sweaty feel from the first film but ups the ante with some gnarly practical effects. The standout sequence is, without question, Freddy literally emerging from Jesse’s body. It’s the stuff of skin-crawling nightmares and a showcase for the film’s dedication to practical, gooey horror. For a film steeped in psychological tension, it still delivers the gory goods when it needs to.

Kim Myers as Lisa, Jesse’s love interest, plays the typical supportive girlfriend role, though she does get a few hero moments as the film barrels toward its finale. The emotional weight of the story, though, rests firmly on Jesse’s shoulders. Lisa, while likable, is mostly there to help Jesse navigate his increasingly dangerous meltdown, and the chemistry between them is just believable enough to keep things rolling—even when Jesse’s off running into shirtless gym teachers in leather bars. Again, SUBTEXT.

The real charm of Freddy’s Revenge comes from how much it strays from the formula. It’s not trying to recapture the original’s success; it’s doing its own thing, and even when it doesn’t always work, it’s fascinating. The psychological depth, the subversion of horror norms, and that thick, juicy queer subtext make it impossible to dismiss as just another slasher sequel. This is a film with something to say—whether it meant to or not—and it’s saying it in the most gloriously bizarre way possible.

By now, Freddy’s Revenge has been embraced by the LGBTQ+ community as an unintentional queer horror landmark, and Mark Patton, who struggled with the film’s subtext at the time, has since reclaimed his role in a way that makes the movie even more special. The documentary Scream, Queen! dives into this aspect of the film and Patton’s personal journey, shining a light on how this once-maligned sequel became a cult classic.

Freddy’s Revenge might not follow Freddy’s own dream-world logic, but its willingness to go off-script, combined with Patton’s raw performance and Englund’s more menacing Freddy, has cemented its place in horror history. It’s a wild, weird, sweaty fever dream of a sequel, and if it’s not afraid to break the rules and be true to itself, shouldn’t we love it for what it is, rather than what we wanted it to be?