I love horror movies. I love everything from the cheesiest slasher, to the highest of elevated horror, and anything in between. However, there was a time, long ago, when I was not a fan of horror. I would scamper out of the room in a cold, sweaty panic at the potential threat of being scared. In spite of this, the cure to my affliction was closer than I thought, in the form of a little film called The Monster Squad.
As I previously mentioned in my last article, I was shown The Thing at a rather unsuitable age. That was just the beginning of the multitude of horror films that I experienced at the hands of my parents — and the video store that we rented from — having somewhat loose restrictions on what I could or couldn’t watch. My older brother was the primary horror fan in our household, and it was his fault that I met the boogeyman that kept me living in fear for a few years to follow: Freddy Krueger.
For those not in the know, Freddy Krueger was the antagonist of the slasher franchise A Nightmare on Elm Street. He, without a doubt, was the most terrifying figure that a small child like myself could picture. With his burnt face, knife-gloved hand, and an ability to cross over into the dream realm, Freddy was — to put it simply — nightmare fuel. It didn’t end with just not being able to watch the movies, though. My fear of Freddy was so astronomical that I couldn’t go near the horror section because his face was prominently shown on a VHS of Nightmare on Elm Street 2: Freddy’s Revenge. I couldn’t even be in the same room with a movie that featured the New Line Cinema logo until I knew with the utmost certainty that Freddy wasn’t going to pop out of the screen and kill me in some horribly grisly fashion, likely with some terrible pun.
My family and I can look back on this now and laugh, but for a long time I was legitimately terrified. My terror was only exacerbated by my older siblings and occasionally, my parents. It wasn’t quite as malicious in my parents’ case: they simply used Freddy as a horrifying alternative if I didn’t follow the rules, or whenever I got out of line. Nothing makes you want to rush to brush your teeth quite like the fear of a burnt child murderer coming after you.
At this point, you’re probably asking yourself what this has to do with my affinity for The Monster Squad, and I promise I’m getting there. First though, a brief history of the film itself is in order. The Monster Squad was a film written and directed by Fred Dekker and co-writer/college friend Shane Black. As Dekker put it, he wanted to make a movie that pitted The Little Rascals against the Universal Monsters. The film follows a group of children as they attempt to do battle with the forces of evil, consisting of Dracula, The Wolf Man, The Gill Man, The Mummy, and Frankenstein’s Monster.
This movie was another in a long and illustrious line that were trounced at the box office, and thus doomed to obscurity forever. Thankfully, home video turned this into a cult classic with a loyal and devoted fan base whose passion for the film was showcased in the 2018 documentary, Wolfman’s Got Nards. It was a perfect storm of accessibility and lack of parental involvement that would change my life forever.
I remember it so vividly. I was about six or seven, walking into the local video store (Rest in Peace, Choice Video), and I made my way to the comedy section, all while keeping as much distance between myself and Freddy Krueger as humanly possible. I turned the corner to begin looking at a shelf packed to the brim with tapes, when I came face to face with the snarling fangs of Dracula, flanked on both sides by The Wolf Man and The Mummy. I was startled to say the least. My young brain began trying to rectify why a horror film would be in the comedy section, where I was supposed to be safe.
With slight trepidation, I pulled the tape off the shelf and saw something I didn’t expect: young kids, close to my own age, underneath these creatures of the night. This confused me since, even with my limited knowledge of the genre, I knew kids were rarely cast in horror movies, let alone playing the leads. Something about this box intrigued me, though. I couldn’t quite put my finger on why, but I just knew I had to see it. Timidly, I handed the video tape to my mom, and we headed home so I could watch it.
Within the first few minutes, I was watching with bated breath, ready to bolt the moment anything too scary happened. One minute turned into five, turned into ten, and soon I found myself easing back on the couch. I began to relax, but remained at the ready for something spooky. After about a half hour, I had finally completely succumbed to the thrall of the movie.
The movie struck a chord with me. This wasn’t what I had glimpsed through the cracks in the door when my brother would watch the movies he rented. I wasn’t seeing sex-starved teens getting butchered by Freddy or Jason. I was seeing kids that were my peers combating the forces of evil. They weren’t scared of horror movies, in fact, they used them as their means of getting an upper hand.
For the film’s 79 minute runtime, I felt like I was on this adventure with these kids. It felt so different from how I felt when I watched movies like The Goonies, or E.T.. Those movies lacked a sense of danger, because in the back of my mind, I always knew that the heroes would come out on top and that evil would be vanquished. When Dracula was staked through the heart and sent through the hole in limbo (conveniently opened at the last minute), I was beaming from ear to ear with joy that didn’t dissipate until well after the rap song specifically written for the end credits (customary for many an ‘80s movie) was over.
After watching the movie at least three more times, I had turned a corner. I was no longer going to cower in fear of… most horror movies. Freddy was still a bit of an for me, but I would overcome that in due time. My fear of scary movies was slowly dissipating, and I began watching horror wherever I could find it. Whether it was through Rhonda Shear and Gilbert Gottfried in USA Up All Night, or Joe Bob Briggs spewing out the drive-in totals on MonsterVision, I had become a new person and it was all thanks to my new “friends” in the monster squad.
I’m not going to sit here and say that this movie is perfect. Aside from a few odd tonal shifts, including an out of left field divorce subplot, the film also has some dialogue that has aged very poorly. Multiple homophobic slurs towards several characters are in very poor taste and really root this in a time where that kind of talk was shockingly commonplace. It’s a giant blemish on a movie that holds a special place in my heart.
The Monster Squad was my gateway to horror, and I’m always going to be thankful for it. Without it, I may have just stayed completely oblivious to the multitudes that the horror genre can offer. I would have been missing out on so many wonderful films. If I hadn’t seen The Monster Squad I would have never met so many incredible people and, to me, that’s the sign of a great movie: that it builds a sense of community and friendship. To this day, I make sure to put it on at least once a year so that I never forget where my love of horror took root.
