As any fan of the Scream franchise knows, it’s tradition to start each film with a self-contained opening sequence. “Scream 7” is no exception. Why? Horror film franchises thrive on familiarity – altered just enough to stave off boredom, but similar enough to hit the same thrill buttons. The only thing that has changed: the title uses Arabic numerals instead of Roman numerals. One expects Ghostface, the slasher icon with the legendary mask, who kills a few unfortunate people before the credits roll. Give people what they want.
This time it’s a couple in their early twenties, played by Jimmy Tatro from “American Vandal” and Michelle Randolph from “Landman”, staying in an Air BnB. But not just any Air BnB – this one is a replica of the old Prescott house, designed as an immersive experience for true crime tourists. Check out the kitchen where Amber Freeman once burst into flames. Walk through the living room and you’ll see where Stu Macher had an unfortunate encounter with a television and gravity.
The property is plastered with posters from the “Stab” films, the cinematic universe within a cinematic universe that dramatizes the “real” massacres in the fictional town of Woodsboro. Pick up the phone and an eerie voice asks if you like horror films too – before testing your slasher trivia knowledge. Don’t forget: sign the guestbook and take a selfie with the animatronic Ghostface!
It’s no spoiler to say that things don’t end well for our disposable heroes; It always takes one or two victims for the real story to get going. Neve Campbell’s Sidney Prescott, back after a one-off break from filming, will soon be getting calls again from someone with that distinctive voice. The mask reappears, teenagers ignore warning signs until it’s too late, and bodies start piling up. Courteney Cox is of course back as dogged reporter and symbol of media ruthlessness Gale Weathers, as well as a number of recurring characters, fan favorites and familiar faces from all six previous films. Ghostface remains Ghostface.
A house as a mirror
But back to that opening sequence. The immersive rental property is part tourist trap, part museum; Much like the theater in the finale of “Scream VI” (2023), which was filled with items from the Woodsboro murders that real moviegoers simultaneously recognize as props from the “Scream” films and which now serve as murder weapons – or self-defense against the killer – the hall of mirrors vibe is strong here. But it doesn’t take long to realize what this Air BnB really is. It’s not just a swipe at the entire true crime entertainment complex. Rather, the house is a reflection of “Scream 7” itself.
This latest chapter has no interest in telling you a story or adding anything substantial to the series’ mythology – other than dozens of fresh pretzel logic plot twists. It simply wants to separate fans from their money and lure them into another cheap homage to the franchise itself. The fake Woodsboro house exists in a “Scream” movie that feels like a simulacrum of a “Scream” movie. Or, to put it less pretentiously and less Baudrillardian: This is a fucking scam.
Has a horror film series ever so passive-aggressively despised its fans and at the same time so blatantly pandered to them as the “Scream” films? By the time Wes Craven’s original “Scream” hit theaters in 1996, we were far enough removed from the golden age of slasher flicks to really miss those grindhouse classics – and socialized deep enough in video store school to understand the references. And yet you didn’t have to have seen “Psycho,” the Rosetta Stone of the Cinéma du Stab, to scream when the film dumped its A-list star barely into the first third.
The genre rules and standard conventions – don’t go to the basement, there’s always a final girl, etc. – were used by survivors as well as the killer in the genre film you were watching. The more sequels piled up, the more often the Ghostfaces were unmasked as variations of people who loved horror films not wisely, but too much. Yes, revenge for murdered loved ones was also a recurring motif. But count how many times someone put on the mask in the name of toxic fandom. We are waiting.
Williamson returns
Screenwriter and series creator Kevin Williamson knew what he was doing when he relied on tongue-in-cheek, elbow-butting meta-commentary and gave space to a director who was there from the start and brought real craft and care. “Scream” is a first-rate classic for a reason. And like so many franchises before it, an endless succession of numbered sequels chased easy money and dwindling returns.
When it comes to slasher homage, what could be more appropriate than killing off a great basic concept with countless final chapters and new beginnings? We’re actually surprised that they haven’t flown into space or let Ghostface work with Chucky yet.
The fact that Williamson is back and this time acting as co-writer and director should actually be a reason to be happy. It’s not. Of course, the fact that this sequel was even made is a small miracle in itself. But the fun, the terror and the feeling of being among like-minded people who are fluent in Slasher 101 and understand the jokes – all of that has been bled out here. The villain is technically Ghostface again, but the real killer is nostalgia, which this time has metastasized into something incurable. Of course, a bad “Scream” movie shouldn’t have to die for the sins of an entire industry – and yet in this case, you can safely hate both the player and the game.
It has to be said: Campbell knows why she is here and what role Sidney Prescott has to fulfill – especially when the killer shows up in her new home, the quiet small town idyll of Pine Grove, and begins to go after her daughter Tatum (Isabel May, best known for the “Yellowstone” spin-off “1883”; one cannot accuse Paramount, the film’s distributor, of not knowing the advantages of synergy effects). Her scenes with Joel McHale, who plays Sidney’s cop husband Mark, have sizzling potential – before the stabbings, the eviscerations and the “Fangoria”-worthy gorefests really begin.
Franchise on autopilot
She respects the heritage. Cox reliably plays against whatever is happening, especially once she and Campbell form a team. Other veterans, especially Mason Gooding and Jasmin Savoy Brown, who reprise their sibling double act, earn their fees. Many of the new “Scream” additions are strikingly similar to past “Scream” actors; you could swear May was actually a younger Hayden Panettiere, who played survivor and future FBI agent Kirby Reed in parts four and six.
There are some creative kills with the high wires of a theatrical production and a tap, as well as the usual recitations of horror movie rules and references to other horror films, other “Scream” entries, and a lot of other things you’d much rather see. Talking about the predictable clichés in horror films has now become a cliché itself. Several ghosts from Sidney’s past show up for cameos – thanks to a very convenient plot surprise involving AI. No, seriously – it’s even worse and even more “really-now?” than it sounds. Almost every previous Scream film has revealed entirely new branches in the characters’ family trees, and this one is no exception. Just like Ghostface himself, “Scream 7” basically just does things by the book.
The sad thing is, when the franchise reinvented itself with the long-overdue fifth installment – 2022’s “Scream” – there was a real transfusion of fresh blood that suggested that this ’90s throwback series, which used our love of the horror heyday of the ’70s and ’80s as its foundation, could thrive in the era of “requels” and empowered fandom. This seventh chapter seems to simply exploit our affection for the Scream team’s history and bank on hardcore fans watching anything as long as the name is on it. “I thought it would be cool once we got here,” says Michelle Randolph’s reluctant Air BnB visitor in the opening sequence. “But it’s kind of cheesy.” Say it, sister. You have no idea. It makes you want to open your mouth wide and – you know what – scream in anger.
