Film Review - Scream 7
Images courtesy of Paramount Pictures.
The line between satire and imitation can often become blurred, but rarely does an example come around so blatantly unaware of this distinction as the latest Scream entry. When the franchise’s first entry released three decades ago, it was helmed by horror master Wes Craven - whose prior efforts included The Hills Have Eyes (1977), Last House on the Left (1972), and the Nightmare on Elm Street series - and was operating as a commentary on the slasher formula he'd helped popularise, as well as the rise of sensationalised violence. Praised by many for its mixture of metahumour and genuine thrills, the film went on to garner a number of sequels, with Craven staying on board to direct all four original entries up until his tragic passing in 2015. Though I have my qualms about the fifth and sixth entries, at the very least, Radio Silence’s films came from a place of love for Craven’s work, which is far more than I can say about Kevin Williamson's efforts on Scream 7.
By the time the film reaches its climax, with an exceptionally haphazard killer reveal that will likely leave viewers’ memories before the credits finish, it’s clear that the film is less a triumphant continuation and more a rushed patch job, stitched together after one of the more chaotic productions in modern horror. This turbulence is well‑documented: Melissa Barrera’s firing over her support for Palestine, Jenna Ortega’s exit due to scheduling conflicts, the departure of Radio Silence (the directing duo behind Screams 5 and 6), and a full creative overhaul that saw Christopher Landon of Happy Death Day hired, before abruptly leaving the project, and then, finally, original series writer Kevin Williamson stepping up to direct for the first time. The result is a film that is largely competent, and occasionally entertaining, but unmistakably burdened by the weight of everything that happened before the first clipperboard slam.
The most immediate and unavoidable change is the absence of the Carpenter sisters. For all my gripes with their films, Sam and Tara had been positioned as the new emotional core of the revived franchise, and their sudden removal fills this entry with a sense of “why are we still doing this?” that Williamson never seems to satisfyingly answer. Their disappearance is addressed only in passing, but the vacuous space in the narrative is obvious, now filled in with nostalgiabait and cameo casting. Given the mere three years that passed between the last film and this one, it's not as if the landscape of horror has changed enough to need a Ghostface-driven antidote, and we're not continuing plots from the previous entries, so again… why??
Into that emptiness steps Sidney Prescot once again, though Neve Campbell undoubtedly got that pay increase, her return is bittersweet. Campbell delivers as decent a performance as ever, even as the script often reduces her to the role of nagging mother. Scream 7’s attempt to re‑centre the franchise around Sidney is understandable, but we also get a rehash of the Radio Silence films in her daughter Tatum, who appears as a new candidate for the franchise baton pass. The issue with this choice comes not just from the mishandling of Barrera’s Sam, but in both Tatum and Sidney's characterisations. They're simply not fun to watch, and anyone who's seen legacy horror sequels should be well familiar with cookie cutter tropes of the rebellious daughter who just wants to know how to fight, and the overprotective mother who wants to run from her past. Never mind that Sidney would probably give her daughter at least some combat training, because Scream 7 isn't interested in engaging with the larger series, merely mining it for fanservice and callbacks.
After a couple of admittedly neat kill setpieces in the opening act, and the reveal of a possibly alive Stu Macher (only the worst kept secret since Scream 3’s script leaks), the film devolves into an arduous sludge as it becomes increasingly apparent that we’re not actually getting anything remotely fresh or exciting. We've come this far, why not give us something really crazy like a robot Ghostface, or actually bringing Stu back instead of using Lillard’s casting as a way to earn brownie points for a fan theory they didn't even commit to canonising. At this point, Scream 7 has become one of the in-universe Stab films, poking fun at little other than its own existence, complete with audience-packing power, even as the film practically wears its uncritical handling of the core concept like a badge of honour.
Instead of something actually inspired, or dare I say, good, we get yet another standard legacy sequel Force Awakens-alike, bringing in old characters to show how badass they've become while simultaneously trying to sell audiences on the new generation. It feels overwhelmingly content in rinse-repeating what once was an indictment on the genre, but has now become Scream’s own set of tired tropes. I still hold hope that some fresh creative voice in the future might take the series and course correct it (hopefully away from Eli Roth and Spyglass Entertainment), and there'll be some honour to Craven's memory once more, but as of right now, Ghostface isn’t the only thing wearing a mask - the franchise is too.
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Scream 7 is screening in cinemas now. For tickets and more info, click here.