I am the definition of someone who grew up with R.L. Stine's worlds. From Goosebumps (my favorites, shockingly, I know) to The Haunting Hour, Stine's penchant for imbuing suburban familiarity with the supernatural made a really indelible impression on me. I'd even say that reading these books was instrumental in pulling me into the rabbit hole of becoming a fan of the horror genre as a whole.

Two out of three films into the 'FEAR STREET' saga, I could recognize Stine's iconic thumbprint here and there but it was with this banger of a closer that I could step back, recognize, and appreciate the carefully structured mosaic of this story. The pathos and "you didn't see that coming, did you??" a-ha realizations work really well, just like the most thrillingly memorable of the iconic author's works. And, like the kind of rare conclusions that have preceded it, this not only satisfyingly throttles with its well-earned revelations, it also elevates what comes before it.

With the final chapter, Leigh Janiak's adaptations solidify themselves as a strong collection of resonant, effective, and surprisingly affecting tales. This is the kind of fresh production that once again reminds us of how impressive Netflix originals can be when creators are given the support to translate and share visions that might not otherwise be given the opportunities they deserve. And as a marriage of the unique sensibilities of the voice that spawned them and the richly appreciated elements of modern storytelling, this is bewitching stuff.