Box office can kill, people. If the cash isn't percolating, it can kill quicker than Freddy Krueger, the dream invader with claws who put New Line Cinema on the map with the Nightmare on Elm Street franchise nearly 25 years ago. I bring up New Line because after forty years, one of the most adventurous studios in play-it-safe Hollywood has just been absorbed into the Warner Bros. mothership as a cost-cutting move. When the high-priced floperoo of The Golden Compass proved that the studio couldn't pull off another Lord of the Rings bonanza without Peter Jackson, the writing was on wall. Now lots of good people are out of work, including founders Robert Shaye and Michael Lynne. My fondest memories of New Line stem back to its beginnings, reviving Reefer Madness, dishing out the dirty fun of John Waters, the dishy horror of The Evil Dead, franchise hits from The Texas Chainsaw Massacre to Austin Powers. Sure, New Line grinded out its fair share of crap. most recently Snakes On a Plane, Mr. Woodcock, Rendition, Over Her Dead Body and the aforementioned Golden Compass.

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