Wait, wait, wait. Did you all go to Pound Town?

There's nothing cool about turning forty-two. I'm losing my hair. I (mostly) hate my job. Oh, and uh, the whole world is basically a flaming turd bounding downward straight to Hell, inexplicably gathering more shit and flames with each passing second. But, doing some quick math, there is some good news. Being forty-two, today, in the shit-soaked depths of late 2021?

That means I was a teenager in the last great decade this planet will probably ever see: the motherf---king 1990s. *cue Ice Cube's It Was a Good Day*

I was fifteen in 1994, so Netflix's Fear Street: Part 1-1994 gave me a much-welcomed nostalgia boner from the absolute jump. And, honestly, it was pretty much sustained throughout - the nostalgia - not so much the, well...I already mentioned my age, right? Right.

Anyway, as the first part of a trilogy, this dope little flick comes from the edgier side of R.L. Stine apparently, and is much less slappy, much more grisly. Set in a cursed town like no other (well, maybe it's a little Derry-ish), this sordid tale is an absolute pitch-perfect throwback to better days. The kids are smart, but not overly self-aware and the murder and mayhem is top-shelf. 

In what feels like an extended episode of Tales From the Crypt (with a dash of Scooby-Doo because why the f--k not?), we find ourselves rolling with a leveled up version of Mystery Inc. But instead of a surly longshoreman in a haunted amusement park, this ragtag group of determined teens is dealing with a pissed-off witch and her legion of mid-level bosses. Ruh roh Raggy, indeed. If all of these kids wake up in the mornin', they gotta thank God...