Netflix's Fear Street trilogy is a motley of gore and nostalgia as told through an endearing cast of teenage rebels

Like fresh entrails sewn into an old skeleton, the Fear Street trilogy is a new creature. Released on Netflix on consecutive Fridays, the movies that make up the event straddle the line between weekly television and cinematic franchise. This Grand Guignol was an ambitious experiment for the streamer, and it mostly succeeds: Fear Street, an engaging and scrappy mini-franchise, plays like Scream meets Stranger Things built on a supernatural premise sturdy enough to sustain interest and suspense over nearly six hours. Based on books by RL Stine, the Fear Street movies take place in side-by-side suburbs. Shadyside is drab and dejected, full of cynical kids who work hard and play harder. Nearby, a golden glow falls over sublime Sunnyvale, Shadyside’s richer, snootier neighbor. General ill will divides the towns. But there is a darker pattern at play. Every few decades, Shadyside is the site of a mass murder, and each time, the killer is an apparently stable resident who just seems to snap. Part One: 1994 opens on one such slaughter. In a lurid mall after hours, we meet our first victim in Heather (Maya Hawke), who makes an impression, although she does not survive long. The story pivots to follow the hero of the trilogy, Deena (Kiana Madeira, with a bite), a cynical high schooler going through a painful breakup with Sam (Olivia Scott Welch). Bitter, but with lingering tender feelings, Deena soon discovers that a drove of zombies is after her ex. And when efforts to involve the Sunnyside police — including the snidely named Sheriff Goode (Ashley Zukerman) — prove futile, Deena vows to protect Sam herself. Her nerdy little brother, Josh (Benjamin Flores Jr), and some friends, Kate (Julia Rehwald) and Simon (Fred Hechinger), tag along to run interference. The Fear Street universe’s rules of zombie conduct are not especially consistent. Sometimes a mere trace of blood is enough to allow the menaces to sniff out their prey and pounce. In other scenes, they take ages to track down their teenage targets — long enough, say, for a pair of exes to make up and make out. More methodical are the forces behind the zombies’ reanimation. Deena discovers that the undead killers are Shadyside’s deceased mass murderers. And then there is the 17th-century witch, Sarah Fier, who possesses their corpses and orders them to strike from beyond the grave. Why Sarah is holding a centuries-long grudge against Shadyside is one of the mysteries powering Deena’s journey. Leigh Janiak, who directed the trilogy and co-wrote the three screenplays, has deftly adapted Stine’s stories for the screen. Using an abundance of playful genre tropes, Janiak gives the movies a stylised energy. Motifs accompany overt references to classic horror movies, as when Simon cites a survival strategy he learned from Poltergeist. His borrowed idea turns out to be a bust, inspiring Deena to proclaim that their emergency “is not like the movies.” The line nods to the audience, but, in a way, Deena is right. Fear Street feels different. The trilogy eschews the doom-and-gloom sobriety of recent horror successes such as Bird Box and A Quiet Place, or the nihilism of The Purge franchise. Shadyside and Sunnyvale represent opposite poles, but Fear Street is not an allegory about suburban privilege dressed up in blood and guts. More so, it is a motley of gore and nostalgia as told through an endearing cast of teenage rebels. These strengths are best displayed in Part Two: 1978, the strongest of the trilogy. While Part One drips with ’90s artifacts, including grunge outfits and Pixies mixtapes, Part Two takes a luscious trip back in time to a summer at Camp Nightwing. Campers donning short shorts crowd into cabin bunks while counselors just a few years older smoke pot and hook up to a soundtrack of The Runaways’ Cherry Bomb. This part of the story centers on two sisters spending a summer at Nightwing: Ziggy (Sadie Sink), a sneering misfit camper, and the elder Cindy (Emily Rudd), a priggish, type-A counselor. Think Wet Hot American Summer infused with the macabre. The place gets especially gruesome once the sun sets and a killer — again, a Shadysider accursed — turns colour war into a red rampage. Carnage and a series of close calls follow, but the change in scenery ensures that Part Two never feels like a clone of Part One. The actors help: The combined talents of Sink, Rudd and Ryan Simpkins, as Cindy’s co-counselor Alice, raise the tension by a few notches. The final instalment, Part Three: 1666, backpedals to an even earlier time, bringing us to the village of Sarah Fier. In a stage-drama surprise, many of the actors from Part One and Two return in new, 17th-century roles, sporting colonial rags and period speech that nobody quite pulls off. Here, there is less to propel the action, and lacking in pop artifacts, lingo or fashion trends, Janiak struggles to re-create the fizzy and fun tone she achieved in the earlier movies. No matter. There are wicked mysteries to be solved, and by Part Three, you feel safe following these survivors wherever they go. Natalia Winkelman c.2021 The New York Times Company Fear Street trilogy is streaming on Netflix. _(Also read: Fear Street Part One: 1994 movie review — A fun ode to Stranger Things, slasher films, and high-school horror)_ _(Also read: Fear Street Part Two: 1978 movie review — A killer on the loose at a summer camp for kids equals an effective horror romp)_ _(Also read: Fear Street Part Three: 1666 movie review — A satisfying twist and sharp commentary cap Netflix's horror trilogy)_