Editor’s note: Given Alex’s pop culture nerd status, it was initially difficult to recommend a horror movie that he had yet to see. After a few back and forths, Alex revealed that he hasn’t watched any of the Scream films. “How is this possible?!” I shrieked to myself, and knew this had to be remedied instantly. So please enjoy this fresh perspective on Scream, 28 years after its release.
Having declared myself to be an unabashed pop culture nerd, it’s understandable that many would be flabbergasted that I hadn’t watched Wes Craven’s 1996 Scream until now. The famously meta franchise was a significant gap in my horror education. But my work is certainly not done. I hear there are, what, six of them, with a seventh on the way?!
Regarding the original installment, I have to say the hype is deserved. Craven’s film is a strange beast — alternately goofy and shocking, cartoonish and deadly serious. It remains thrillingly unpredictable in its use, and subversion, of genre traditions. Within today’s nostalgia-bait landscape of entertainment that’s content to play the hits without creating something new, Scream proudly stands on its own.
Craven is a near-seamless conductor of tone and expectation. He and co-screenwriter Kevin Williamson delight in toying with viewers, using our own knowledge of slasher films against us, and, among other things, calling attention to harmful ideas, foundational to the genre, that still ring true in 2024. This lends each sequence — framed with a sunny, sickly sheen by cinematographer Mark Irwin — tangible suspense in between the characters’ quippy, often downright silly, banter. It’s also disquieting in its acknowledgement of the monsters that misogyny and toxic masculinity can create, perhaps inspired by the media audiences enjoyed as entertainment at the time, and the seemingly “safe” places those monsters can inhabit.
And, damn, does Scream start out with an amazing opening sequence. Most cinephiles are likely familiar with it already — an unexpected, increasingly creepy phone call from Ghostface to Casey Becker (Drew Barrymore) in suburbia turns into a movie trivia quiz from Hell. It’s a masterclass in tension, going from darkly funny to terrifying as Ghostface ratchets up Casey’s paranoia; he’s everywhere but nowhere all at once. Popcorn sizzles on the stove, every entrance is vulnerable, and, if Casey gets a question about Friday the 13th incorrect, there are dire consequences. It’s darkly funny, nail-biting, and tragic all at once — ending with a gory murder that is no laughing matter.
The balance of tone is crucial to Scream’s potency, as is the film’s refusal to sanitize the killer’s brutality and undercut the humanity of his victims. Nearly every character — brought to life with excellent performances by Neve Campbell, Courteney Cox, Skeet Ulrich, Rose McGowan, Jamie Kennedy, and an instantly iconic portrayal by Matthew Lillard, among others — has their own hopes, dreams, and desires, breathing three-dimensionality into familiar archetypes. Craven and Williamson re-center traditional heroes and villains to keep us on our toes and underline surprisingly poignant themes beneath the craziness.
Sidney Prescott (Campbell), our protagonist, is a strong-willed, courageous heroine willing to literally sock the opportunistic news reporter Gail Weathers (Cox) in the face when cornered; she’s also simultaneously a high schooler capable of mistakes who’s just trying to process and move beyond her trauma into adulthood. Oh, and she’s contending with her needy boyfriend, Stu (Ulrich), who’s pouty about her intimacy issues.
It’s the one-year anniversary of her mother Maureen’s brutal killing and the jailing of Cotton Weary, the suspected murderer that Sidney helped put behind bars. The predominantly White, “well-to-do” town of Woodsboro, California, is awash in conversations about Maureen’s love life, reducing her to a piece of gossip, while exacerbating Sidney’s trauma and grief. Craven really hammers home the ways that Woodsboro is a microcosm of rumors and accusations: a picturesque community that’s far less welcoming and accepting than it appears on the surface.
At the end of the day, Sidney is not only fighting Ghostface, but also for her own dignity in a community that’s largely turned against her. This resonates in today’s climate, with social media’s ability to dehumanize and perpetuate falsehoods, as does the film’s acknowledgement of how the media exploits tragedy (represented through Gail, who’s seeking to secure a book deal about the Prescott murder), turning human beings’ trauma into sensational content to be consumed.
This idea of “looks being deceiving” is emblematic of Craven’s approach more broadly. One of the film’s central mysteries is, of course, the identity of Ghostface. Craven and Williamson essentially dare us to call their bluff early on; just another example of the kind of conversation the film encourages viewers to have with it. The reveal’s unpredictable predictability is, therefore, both satisfying and deeply unsettling – bloodlust lurking just under the surface of everyday interactions.
On a pure entertainment level, too, Scream excels. From film nerd Randy’s monologue about the “rules of horror,” to the live-feed camera footage with a 30-second delay, to Ghostface’s slapstick shenanigans that somehow makes Ghostface more scary, there’s so much to enjoy here. But what I’m really struck by is how much directorial skill Craven exhibits, and how the film marries its seemingly contrasting tones and styles into something one-of-a-kind, no matter its questionable sound mixing, ever-so-slightly dated humor (and the involvement of executive producer Harvey Weinstein, another predator lurking behind-the-scenes). Bring on the numerous, numerous sequels!
