MINOR SPOILERS

A Xennial’s Review of Netflix’s “Fear Street Part 2: 1978”

Second verse, WAAAAY better than the first!

Instead of buying back The Office from Peacock TV or — god forbid — giving us a new season of Stranger Things already, Netflix decided that our summer treat for being good boys and girls during the pandemic was to release a three-part horror movie “event” based on R.L. Stine’s Fear Street books.

Last week I watched the first movie and wrote about it here, but just in case you don’t feel like clicking the link (in which case, how dare you, sir!), here’s the gist — Netflix’s Fear Street Part One: 1994 was pretty bad. As a standalone teen slasher flick it was okay, but it wasn’t what we ‘80s and ‘90s babies who grew up reading the actual Fear Street books under bed sheets with flashlights long after our parents went to sleep expected it to be. Rather, it took some elements and a little bit of ancient lore from the books and made a brand new story.

Which basically turned into a weird combination of Scream and Halloween V: The One With Paul Rudd.

The second of the trilogy — I guess that’s the correct word — was released on Friday (July 9). So I put my kid to bed, grabbed a few sample bottles of peanut butter whisky and Rocky Road ice cream, and I tucked…