Hollywood Monster: A Walk Down Elm Street with the Man of Your Dreams
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ONE...TWO...FREDDY'S COMING FOR YOU....
You've seen him in the "A Nightmare on Elm Street" series -- and in your darkest dreams. The sadistic killer with the flame-charred face. The knife-blade claws. The razor-sharp wit. "Freddy."..But you've never seen him like this. Unflinching. Uncensored. Un"masked."
Meet Robert Englund, the award-winning actor best known for his role as Freddy Krueger -- the legendary horror icon featured on the American Film Institute's "100 Greatest Heroes and Villains" roster -- a character as unforgettable and enduring as Bela Lugosi's Dracula and Boris Karloff's Frankenstein. Now, for the first time, the man behind the latex mask tells his story in this captivating new memoir, published to celebrate the twenty-fifth anniversary of the first "A Nightmare on Elm Street" film.
You see, Robert Englund is no monster at all, but a deeply funny, charming Hollywood veteran. Packed with Robert's hilarious stories, playful self-deprecation, and a generous helping of never-before-revealed "A Nightmare on Elm Street" trivia, "Hollywood Monster" offers an unparalleled look at the beloved film icon. With insider savvy and gallows humor, Robert recounts his audition for Wes Craven, the inspiration for Freddy's character, the grueling makeup sessions, his soon-to-be-famous costars, the often disastrous on-set blunders, and the wave of popularity that propelled this humble California surfer kid all the way to the top.
Of course, fame and fortune as Freddy came years after the young actor shared a trailer with screen legend Henry Fonda, was punched in the face by Richard Gere, took down Burt Reynolds, and muscled his way between Arnold Schwarzenegger, Sally Field, and Jeff Bridges.
But soon after his high-profile stint in the groundbreaking TV miniseries V, Robert Englund took on the most celebrated role of his career -- the macabre and wisecracking killer who quickly became a household name. From the moment Freddy Krueger dragged his claws across a rusty pipe in the opening dream sequence, a legend had been unleashed -- and a star was born. This is his story.
""Welcome to prime time, bitch."
" -- Frederick Charles Krueger, bastard son of a hundred maniacs
gal stepped up to the actor and nailed him with a roundhouse punch. The actor slowly smiled. Then the gal, with her bloody split lip, grinned right back at him. He planted a kiss on her, a passionate, sexy, bloody kiss. They disappeared into the fluorescent-lit bathroom and closed the door behind them. They weren’t seen for the rest of the weekend, and they remained a couple until the shoot was over. A match made in hell. I was growing up fast. A couple of months later, I auditioned for a
And that something was Star Wars. But again my age was a factor; I was too young to play Han Solo. I left the building, went to the Formosa, my favorite watering hole across the street from the studio, tossed back a shot of Old Bushmills, and tried to figure out a way to come off as older. Or younger. Or taller. Oh well. After Mark came home from filming Star Wars, he entertained Jan and me with stories about how privileged he felt to work with Alec Guinness, how funny Carrie Fisher was, what
go for it, we had a couple of people standing off to the side, ready to catch him, because if he’d have fallen at the speed he was moving, he’d have been dead. After we shot the stunt a couple of times, I watched it in my monitor, trying to decide whether I wanted to try it again. I was all lost in my head when I heard a puppy dog whimpering over my left shoulder. I turned around, and there’s Robert. “I think my wig is fucked,” he said. “I think my makeup is fucked. And to make things even worse,
only thing you should worry about is suing Warner Bros.” “Why would I sue Warner Bros.?” “Negligence. You shouldn’t have been anywhere near that van. You’re not a stuntman. You’re an actor. Warners didn’t look out for you. They don’t look out for any of their actors. I’ll help you put together a case. You initiate a suit, and I’ll cut you a check for a million dollars.” “Who is this?” “Don’t worry about who this is. You in or not?” “Not.” I’d developed a great working relationship with
battles with their own families, had no problem letting Rob Englund, the runaway, crash in the basement. My best friend was an actor named Hugh Corcoran, and Hugh’s family was minor Hollywood royalty. His sister Noreen was the costar of a hugely popular 1950s TV series called Bachelor Father, and his brother Kevin—who eventually became a producer on The Shield—had starred in Old Yeller, Swiss Family Robinson, and Pollyanna … not to mention that he was Moochie on the old Mickey Mouse Club. I was