O.K., I admit it – I’m a big time Scream fan. When I first heard that
Craven, Williamson and company were going to reboot the franchise, I
was both excited and apprehensive, but by the time I got up from the
midnight screening last night I was merely exhilarated. Scream 4 is
fast, funny, furious and, quite simply, kicks ass. Starting off with a
bravura opening sequence, the movie never lags, succeeding both as a
sharp, ironic commentary on our serial killer besotted society and a
brutally clever slasher film. What is often overlooked about the Scream
movies by the critics who dismiss them as hackneyed horror with a thin
patina of self-consciousness, is that, unlike most of their ilk, they
are at the core traditional whodunits, with suspects, clues, red
herrings, and, despite the blood and guts, no higher body counts than
many Agatha Christie books. But to me what really distinguishes them
is, gasp, the character development that most such flicks ignore, the
effect of these crimes on Sydney, who has to somehow deal with the fact
that she’s a bug light for maniacs with knives, or Dewey and Gail who
have to manage a relationship forged by horrific crimes, the kind that,
as another character says, could only happen in the movies. Although
nothing will ever match the unique kick of the first Scream, 4 is the
best effort since, and, as such, one of my favorite movies of the year.
