As we near critical mass of sequels, prequels, and reimaginings, we’ve entered a phase of films attempting to reckon with, and comment on, the wave. Look no further than the recent Matrix: Resurrections, which loudly questioned its own existence for the first hour and a half. The newest Scream hops on that trend in a way only a Scream entry can and delivers a joyful romp, albeit in borderline narcissistic fashion.
More than any of the subsequent follow-ups, this Scream is the spiritual successor to the original, and not only because it has the same title (5CREAM was right there, c’mon). Where 1996’s Scream said the quiet parts aloud about slasher films while simultaneously delivering a faithful genre classic, 2022’s edition speaks directly to its own history in the same way (as it’s since developed into one of the foundational horror franchises it so lovingly and meticulously picked apart) and to the development of an increasingly pervasive culture of toxic fandom.
That uncurrent of toxicity is the film’s through line, and that’s where it shines. Through the past decade or so, the concept of “toxic fandom” forced its way into prominence on the backs of certain portions of fanbases (for example, Star Wars, Marvel, the Matrix) who had a certain idea of what constituted the “true” vision of the franchise. To these subsects, anyone who didn’t abide by certain rules or tropes didn’t’ “get it” and deserved directed on-and-offline venom.
Scream turns this into a plotline, using the in-universe analogue of the “Stab” franchise to manifest these movements’ inherent harmfulness. It’s an effective device, and it’s emblematic of the franchise’s best tendencies toward sharp, incisive meta commentary. However, too often, the film can’t help itself and ventures into “high on your own supply” territory. Meta commentary is most effective when it’s showing, not telling, but this film almost never stops telling. To be fair, usually it works, but too often it goes a step, or two, or three too far and engenders an overwhelming sense of we get it already.
Too, this is a funny movie, but I’m not sure its humor stretches far beyond the bounds of Film Twitter. Its comedy is almost exclusively rooted in hyper-specific satire, both of Scream and modern film culture. Targeted humor endears itself to those who understand it, but that cuts both ways. Where the inside jokes find more casual filmgoing ears, they may go unnoticed and ineffective, leaving a film decidedly drained of laughs.
Meta commentary aside, this is still a mystery slasher flick at its core, and it ably (and sometimes more so) hits its marks. The kills are inventive, suitably violent, and, most refreshingly, brutally efficient (here’s looking at you, Halloween Kills). Obviously, those are the parts that will turn off a huge swath of people, but then again, if people don’t know that’s what they’re signing up for, something went epically wrong in the marketing department. As to the whodunit plot, sure, the film manages to keep you guessing until its self-titled Act Three, but its neatest trick is keeping you hooked without relying on the big reveal. Instead, it’s more about having fun along the way, and that’s what Scream is all about.
