One year after Alice (Lisa Wilcox) vanquished Freddy Krueger (Robert Englund) by pointing a mirror at him, he returns to haunt the dreams of her unborn baby, answering the age-old question: do babies dream of oneiric creeps?

The major slasher franchises were openly robbing each other by this point, with Jason (1988), Michael (1989) and Freddy (1989) simultaneously developing a psychic link with one of the local foetuses – the difference here being it’s an actual foetus.

Director Stephen Hopkins (Predator 2) called this film “a total embarrassment”, citing a rushed schedule, unrealistic budget and studio edits. This seems unfair, given how much blame must also be apportioned the story, screenplay and pro-life subtext – if you can call it subtext when Alice is literally visited and scolded by her future son (Whit Hertford) for not wanting him. Apparently her womb becoming the portal for the actual Freddy Krueger is some sort of blessing in disguise.

For reasons known only to screenwriter and former Sparks bassist Leslie Bohem, the movie opens by showing Freddy’s conception and birth. Quoting A Nightmare on Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors, the film reminds us he is “the bastard son of a hundred maniacs” by helpfully having a guard count the number of maniacs; a job he takes more seriously than, for example, stopping them all from raping a nun.

Not only is this all entirely unnecessary, it also overwrites Krueger’s real-world origin story. We learn from his birth scene that he was born a scary-faced mutant baby, despite every instalment (including this one) explaining that his face was burnt off in the fire that killed him. The retcon doesn’t necessarily contradict the fire story but it does ruin it – or to put it in terms Leslie Bohem might understand, this town ain’t big enough for both explanations.

All that being said, A Nightmare on Elm Street 5: The Dream Child is a vast improvement on its predecessor, by virtue of having something vaguely resembling a story and less emphasis on Krueger as some kind of maverick MTV-presenter hero. There are welcome attempts at gothic imagery (even if the demonic pram looks more like a disused shopping trolley), and some decent dream sequences, including a-ha-inspired comic book visuals.

But on the whole, the effects are lousy and the visuals ugly, unable to shake the general tackiness and tonal confusion that marked the previous chapter. The movie trundles towards a nonsensical and inept Escher-stairs climax, and end credits that accidentally omit lead actress Lisa Wilcox. Now that’s a blessing in disguise.