I remember being 9 (ish?) and it being a weekend day in Phoenix, AZ. I was kind of a loner (my bestest friend had moved away and my siblings had already flown the coop) and was kicking around our giant house, bored as usual. Bored, that is, until the most terrifying movie ever came on TV. I was glued to the television, unable to look away, even knowing that my already-unmanagable fear of the dark was going to get a whole lotta worse.

After it was over, I looked out the windows at the backyard in the sunlight, realizing that daytime no longer meant safetime — that the boogieman was in full force 24 hours a day! For weeks, the unhappiness level of my household rose to red alert, as I was unable to sleep, approach darkness, or be alone without freaking out. The nutty thing was I remember seeing that movie more than once in my youth. What was I (or anyone else) thinking?

That was my experience with Nightmare. My memory of the actual plot is spotty, though I have vivid memories of certain scenes.

And here we go again, oh so many years later! I’m writing this as I am about to hit the play button. It is daytime, I am alone, and really glad I’m a grownup now…

…OK! All done, still here. It’s amazing how the first 45 minutes or so are branded on my brain — I remember almost every scene. And it is scary, in an is-this-a-dream-or-reality? mind-fuck, shot in very glam black and white, surprises a-plenty. Then it all plunges downhill, into a whole different movie, a whole different protagonist and theme, what? It kind of rallys at the end when twist.. then twist.. then another twists ends it.

And I don’t remember having watched anything past that first 45 minutes, which leaves me to believe that 9-year-old Becky was as easily bored as the present-day Becky when confronted with a film that becomes overly talky and complicated.

1964: What a stellar year — not only for for humankind when a very special girl was born — but for swing coats and mod boots, for high-contrast black and white, for really ambitious hairdos, for a certain round and sweet style of British leading lady, for black vests and ties under tweed coats, for tilted camera angles, and for an naive style of horror that’s pretty damn scary.

Big plus: 83 minutes, yes. Other big plus: British title was Here’s the Knife, Dear: Now Use It.

If you’d like to buy or rent it, it is part of the Hammer Horror Series.

Fun/sad fact: I was terrified of the dark until I was about 14. The fear re-flared briefly when I was 16 and watched that goddamn Talky Tina episode.

Coming up: wh-what the hell was THAT?