This is a spoiler-free review. A spoiler-filled one will come later on when Scream is accessible to people who may prefer not to venture into a movie theater quite yet.
There are no bad Scream (1996) sequels. After Wes Craven took us to Woodsboro for the first time in 1996, he returned to Sidney Prescott (Neve Campbell) and that dreaded Ghostface mask three more times, and while none of the subsequent films reached the heights of the first, they each more than justified their inclusion in the franchise. Scream 2 (1997) positively vibrates with the joy Craven and company take in skewering sequels while nonetheless navigating powerful arcs for Sidney, Gale (Courteney Cox), and Dewey (David Arquette). Plus, Sidney’s play rehearsal remains one of the single most fascinating set pieces in any of the films. Scream 3 (2000) is a bit schlocky, yes, but injecting more camp into the franchise while moving the needle on industry satire is delicious. Scream 4 (2011) goes back to Woodsboro with flair and the best script since the original. That is, until Scream (2022) came along to crash the party.
Ghostface returns to Woodsboro
Set in present-day Woodsboro, a killer has once again donned the Ghostface mask to terrorize the townsfolk. A new group of teenagers wonder aloud about who lurking among them might in fact be a murderer – and what might be motivating them to start another round of killings twenty-five years after Billy (Skeet Ulrich) and Stu (Matthew Lillard) baptized the town in blood. The first attack – on Tara Carpenter (Jenna Ortega) – brings her estranged sister Sam (Melissa Barrera) back to town, accompanied by Sam’s boyfriend Richie Kirsch (Jack Quaid). The fact of the estrangement between the sisters leaves Tara’s friends skeptical of Sam, but the building terror and desperation to stop the killer bring them together to puzzle through a mishmash of conflicting clues. Sam and Richie even reach out to the now reclusive Dewey for help, since Gale and Sidney have left Woodsboro far behind. Yet, no matter how hard they try to stay away from the blade, it finds them all.
Dewey (David Arquette)
When the new Ghostface calls Tara and asks her “What’s your favorite scary movie?” in the opening scene, she says The Babadook (2014). This is followed by an exchange about “elevated horror” and Tara’s dismissal of the Stab movies – Scream’s in-universe series based on the Woodsboro murders. Later, when the teens sit around and debate theories on who the killer is, resident horror geek Mindy Meeks-Martin (Jasmin Savoy Brown) brings it around once again by asserting that while the likes of Ari Aster and Jordan Peele are fabulous horror maestros, there’s no need to bash the Stabs of the world. The film thus asks us to consider how we’re judging it, and more broadly how we judge horror. The point it makes in response to its own question is two-fold. Textually, the conversations assert the reality that horror is a wide tent that encompasses all manner of sub-genres, both high and low brow. Sub-textually (at least until some late-stage developments make it clear text), the film suggests that you can do both. This Scream has the most diverse cast ever, in terms of race, gender, and sexuality. It is a slasher through and through, but it has incorporated the vital developments of recent years that have seen the horror industry work harder to be inclusive of more people. No surprise, Scream sticks both landings.
Speaking of the cast, there is not a dud amongst them. Barrera and Ortega as Sam and Tara are especially bright additions to the franchise, operating as this iteration’s emotional core. Their sisterhood anchors the plot, pushing along the tension as Sam desperately pursues a way to protect her sister and heal the damage she wrought by leaving years earlier. Barrera was exquisite last year as Vanessa in In the Heights (2021), and here she further cements her status as a multi-talented lead performer. Scream doesn’t call on her to dance or sing, but her capability to modulate between stirring dramatic scenes with Ortega and then entering full scream queen mode as she fights Ghostface is exceptional. The ensemble around the two only heightens the fun. Quaid is steadily building out a roster of memorable work, tempering his gangliness and charm to the necessary mode. Savoy Brown, having a banner start to the year between this and Yellowjackets, fits flawlessly into the updated vision of the horror movie database previously embodied by Randy (Jamie Kennedy) and Kirby (Hayden Panetierre).
Sam (Melissa Barerra)
Of course, it wouldn’t be a Scream movie without the originals, and Campbell, Cox, and Arquette are all in top form. It is especially poignant when we first come upon Dewey living in a run-down trailer outside of town. When Sam and Richie beg him for help, he notes that he’s “been stabbed nine times,” has a limp, and “permanent nerve damage.” Dewey’s state is a stark reminder that of the many things Scream has always been about, arguably none are more resonant than the franchise’s continued reckoning with trauma, both physical and emotional. As if that was not enough to make you tear up, multiple shots reveal an urn of his sister Tatum’s (Rose McGowan) ashes. The heaviness of shared history weighs on this film, and so when Campbell and Cox finally arrive on screen, it brings a bittersweet feeling. Yes, I let loose a little fist pump in the theater seeing the gang back together, but it was accompanied by the sadness at knowing these characters who have already suffered so much would have to suffer once again. We love them, and it is a testament to all three performers that this love has not wavered.
Wes Craven died in 2015, and so this film marked the first entry without him behind the camera. Stepping in to fill those massive shoes is the directorial duo Radio Silence, made up of Matt Bettinelli-Olpin and Tyler Gillett. With previous credits including V/H/S/ (2012) and Ready or Not (2019), the team entered Scream with horror bona fides, and they deliver another sterling effort. Their camera emulates Craven without descending to cheap imitation. They regularly display a mastery of manipulating negative space to psych us out, a shadow-drenched lighting design that’s the richest since the original, and a correctly calibrated sense of perverse fun in staging Ghostface set pieces. In one memorable sequence, a character begins in the shower with explicit homages to Psycho (1960), but they survive. Then, they spend an excruciating few minutes in the kitchen opening cabinets and the fridge, so we expect a killer behind every door – but it never comes. Only when it seems safety has arrived does the knife descend. That sequence embodies the style and verve with which the team honor Scream’s legacy while never succumbing to the pressure to simply deliver a two-hour slice of fan service.
Sidney (Neve Campbell) and Gale (Courteney Cox)
Now on its fifth entry, Scream remains a gold standard for franchise filmmaking because it honors a rule that so many other efforts fail to abide by; only come back if you have something new to say. While Halloween, Friday the 13th, and Star Wars contain within their ranks at least as many stinkers, if not more, as stone-cold classics, Scream perseveres because of its refusal to opt for the lazy path. Would it be nice to have had more than five Scream movies since 1996? Absolutely. I will spend as much time with Sidney and company as Hollywood allows. Yet, just as Scream states directly by the end, we the fans should not be responsible for making those decisions. The writers, directors, and actors who encompass the Scream brain trust should, because they continue to safeguard a precious property with incredible diligence. Only time will tell if this film’s success means further entries, but I’m willing to wait and see. For now, I’ll see you back in Woodsboro.
Scream is currently playing in theatres.
Devin McGrath-Conwell is a graduate of Middlebury College currently working on a Screenwriting MFA at Emerson College. He is a regular contributor to Geek Vibes Nation and Cinema Scholars. His work has also appeared on Portland Film Review, CBS News, and The Middlebury Campus. He has written for Horror Homeroom on white masculinity in Scream, Mike Flanagan’s Midnight Mass, and Flanagan’s devotion to negative space. If you enjoy his work, follow him on Twitter @devintwonames where he regularly tweets into the abyss about film, television, and, of course, horror.
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