Do movies scare you? I mean really, truly scare you? That "damn, I can't get that shit out of mind, I am soaking in my own sweat, my bed smells like ass, but I ain't pulling the covers down for nothing," scariness. I have seen a few films in my life that did that to me. NIGHTMARE (1981) did that to me. In 1981 and again in 2001. This frickin' film leaves you ready to pull a Meryl Streep and get out the wire brush loufa. If you ain't screaming "Clean me off, Cher!" by the end of the this sickie, you might seek true psychological counseling. See you later, John Wayne Gacy, thanks for stopping by, don't let the door hit you in the arse.

A plot synopsis is in order for a film of this magnitude. George Tatum is nuts, George Tatum is in the nuthouse, George Tatum keeps having reoccurring dreams. George Tatum is in an experimental drug program. George Tatum gets cured. Or so his doctors think.

Hey, we got layers here folks, because there is a secondary plot going on here. There is a single mom. The single mom has 3 kids. The single mom has a baby-sitter. The single mom likes to hump a guy who wishes he was a pirate. The single mom is rarely around. The single mom has a kid that is a real pill. The single mom is constantly getting the shit scared out of her by this pill of a kid as he fakes his own stabbing, dresses up like a psycho stalker, etc., etc.

George is released, nightmares in tow and we are treated to an early 80s glimpse of Times fucking Square. Fuck you Guiliani, you damn adulterous bastard. When are politicians ever going to learn that we do not want our towns "cleaned up"? I swerved off there, sorry. So George wanders in to a rather depressing strip joint slash sex show slash depressing cum dumpster only to ultimately fall plumb out as my papaw would say, all foaming at the mouth and shit. Of course we are treated to more nightmare flashback action, that I guess I should tell you a little about.

George's nightmares involve a gentleman being tied up, a lady straddling this fellow, some S&M, face slapping, etc. and an axe, a flying head, a shitload of blood, the eyes on the head bolting open, intense music, slow motion and all the stuff that almost all our dreams have. Right?

George seems to be a traveling and a killing and a gnashing his teeth and a foaming and a crying and a wearing some tighty whiteys. Needless to say I can go along with all this except the tighty whiteys, fellas let your fellas breath. George seems to have a destination and that destination is the single mom's house.

Alright there is the setup I ain't giving out no more plot stuff. NIGHTMARE or NIGHTMARES IN A DAMAGED BRAIN as the foreigners know this puppy has somewhat of a tasty history. It was one of Great Britain's original Video Nastys. Along with I Spit On Your Grave, Last House, and the likes, the polite sensibilities of the country known for bad teeth and blood pudding just was not ready for this shit. The distributor in Great Britain tried to farm out a version that was (gulp) 10 seconds longer than the BBFC version and landed his ass in jail serving 6 months of a 12 month sentence. The total ridiculous brutality of his sentence was a severe kick in the nads, mate, for free speech in GB. Another thing coke headed gruemieister Tom Savini did all the effects, big deal, right? Well the deviated septumed Savini won't even claim this jewel, ugh, faggot, what are you afraid of, Tom? Come clean or I'll clip the coke nail on your your pinky finger at the next Boo-A-Thon I see you at. Rumor has it the effects guy for the film that Savini worked with offed himself because of the big bangini Mr. S was giving his wife, so needless to say Tom wanted his name removed, there are stills floating around of Tom and the young George on the set.

If you think about the timeframe, the movie is a somewhat blatant indictment of Reagan era bullshit. With all the turning the nutty folks out on the streets, cutting funding to social programs and creating an absolute deluge of mumbling, fumbling, zany homeless folks in every major and not so major metropolitan area. There is no doubt that there were a few George Tatums out roaming the sidewalks during the reign of "The Great Constipator." With any luck we'll be going through the same shit again, since all you idiotic Young RepublicansTM went and did it to us again by electing a goofus cowboy who is more interested in grinning for the cameras and counting cash than what is happening on the streets of the country. Unless of course there is nekkedness or something that we actually enjoy, then of course, it must be stamped out! Heil George and Ronnie and George Sr. and Rudy and so on and so on and shoobie, doobie, doobie. Same old strokes for the same old folks. Anyhoo, bust your ass to get you hands on a copy of this baby, I watched this on a double date in 1981, went home, my friend Chris, the other male in that date thing was spending the night. That fucker went straight to sleep. I laid there till the sun came up...repeating over and over..."Nanny, Nanny boo hoo, stick you head in doo doo." Just watch the movie...you'll get it.

Believe me when you see this shot, you'll grin too.

Single parenting sure is hard...arrrrr!