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Cinema Revisited: The Postmodern Horror of Wes Craven’s Scream

Danilo Castro

With the advent of the Internet, postmodernism found the perfect vessel. Today, a few clicks and an enter button can thrust you into any realm you so chose – along with a wink and plenty of ironic air quotations. This practice hasn’t solely applied to the common consumer either; tastemakers and artists have also sought this chic alternative in their works. Charlie Kaufman writes about his fictional self in Adaptation (2002), dreams become genres within themselves in Inception (2010), and a super- (anti-) hero mocks comic book movies in next year’s Deadpool.

It’s become so ingrained in the cinema of today that thinking back to a time before deconstructive art becomes a postmodern practice within itself. But we have to keep reminding ourselves what the archetypes of each genre are, otherwise it’s easy to miss the irony and just absorb the quotations. This was something that the late, great Wes Craven understood flawlessly; and nowhere is this comprehension more apparent than in his 1996 classic Scream.

Or perhaps more tellingly, Scary Movie. That was the original title that Craven and screenwriter Kevin Williamson chose in an effort to convey their groundbreaking blend of horror and satire. Williamson borrowed heavily from the real-life Gainsville Ripper, but his more notable inspirations would lie in slasher movies of the 1970s and 1980s. Stuff like Halloween (1978), When A Stranger Calls (1979), and Craven’s own A Nightmare On Elm Street (1984).

A Nightmare on Elm Street in particular would take on a whole new level of inspiration once Craven was appointed director – edging out candidates like George A. Romero, Sam Raimi, and Robert Rodriguez with his chilling body of work. Wes had spent the last decade paddling around in decent horror flicks like The Serpent and The Rainbow (1988) and People Under the Stairs (1991), but nothing had truly hit since Freddy Krueger’s first appearance. As a result, Craven began tinkering with scary movie conventions in 1994’s New Nightmare; a bizarre meta-slasher where several of Scream’s overlapping realities would first appear. The director couldn’t wait to deconstruct the genre he himself had pioneered. Horror was about to join the postmodern age with one simple question.

“What’s your favorite scary movie?” has become the iconic line of Scream. It’s also the first thing growled over the phone at Casey Becker (Drew Barrymore) in the film’s opening sequence. In a conversation that throttles from flirtatious to fearful to just flat out frightening, it’s a murder scene that immediately sets up the narrative tone of blood-soaked pop culture. In the midst of a surprise celebrity death that echoes the original slasher film, Psycho (1960), we get to remind ourselves that Jason’s mom was indeed the killer in Friday The 13th (1980). It’s horrific enough to see Drew Barrymore get butchered, but to have it be because of that trivia flub? Come on, Drew. Hopefully the other victims watched more movies during Halloween season.

Those other victims are both horrified and fascinated, particularly doting young Sidney Prescott (Neve Campbell) and her popular friends. Craven takes great glee in exploiting high school stereotypes to the fullest: from bitchy best friend Tatum (Rose McGowan) and her dumb boy toy (Matthew Lillard) to Sidney’s brooding boyfriend Billy (Skeet Ulrich). Aside from the sweet Halloween reference with the last name Loomis (Michael Myers’ doctor), Ulrich’s casting is brilliantly inspired on the director’s part – a spitting image twist on Johnny Depp’s dependably sweet character in Elm Street. (Pull up Google Images right now and compare the two. It’s eerie.)

Craven also introduces a new breed of slasher movie character with Randy (Jamie Kennedy), the horror movie savant. If Scream played out like some knife wielding retelling of Pinocchio, then Randy would be Jiminy Cricket in a bowling shirt. His fourth-wall acknowledgement of slasher film shortcomings is the running gag of the story, complete with some of the script’s best lines (“If they’d watch Prom Night they’d save time! There’s a formula! A simple formula!”)

Craven, Williamson, and Randy lay out the proverbial slasher rules that are followed to this day, just in case they ever come in handy. The breakdown goes as follows:

  1. Never have sex (cue crowd boos).
  2. Never drink or do drugs (cue bottle raises).
  3. Never, ever, ever under any circumstances say, “I’ll be right back” (cue crowd leaving).

Do the rest of the characters follow this three-step template? Of course not. And that’s what makes Scream such an ironic dose of satire. Craven mocks the rulebook while simultaneously following its every word, as if fulfilling some morbid curiosity of just how far clichés can be bent. Characters relate situations to scary movies they’ve seen, yet they don’t do much better when it comes to acknowledging their own bad decisions.

Even adults like Gale Weathers (Courtney Cox) and Dewey Riley (David Arquette) struggle to maintain logic in a world that’s as cartoony as the iconic Ghost Face costume. Williamson’s story knows just when to make characters smart and when to dumb them down a bit – a balancing act that’s tougher than it sounds. Two-thousand and twelve’s homage-ridden The Cabin In The Woods takes this plot hole a step further and blames selective good ideas on drug induced brain lapses. And remember Marty (Fran Kranz), the fan favorite from Cabin? Yeah, he’s a not so subtle imitation of Randy – Joss Whedon knew what he was doing.

As each hyper-violent Wes Craven murder brings us closer to the third act, the struggle to peg a suspect becomes frustratingly tough. Despite being tossed clues and slasher rules for 100 minutes, the self-mockery of the movie keeps us from believing anything tossed our way – even when it plays out in predictable fashion. It’s obviously curtains for Sidney when she gives up her virginity to Billy (see rule #1), but things remain just as shocking when he reveals his murderous plans (19-year-old spoiler). Check off surprise murderer, now all that’s needed is a blood soaked finale and a motive.

Well, the motive is arbitrary, really. Billy murdered everyone as revenge for his mother’s affair with Sidney’s dad. Big whoop. The real juice comes in with loony lines like “it’s all a movie. One great big movie,” as he licks fake blood off his fingers and explains its similarity to the Carrie (1976) recipe. Sidney eventually double taps the worst ex in film history and assumes the mantle of horror movie heroine originally held by Jamie Lee Curtis. All this while Halloween quietly plays in the background.

The film was a massive Christmas success in 1996, revitalizing the horror genre and jump-starting the direct-to-video slasher movement of the next decade. The Scream follow-ups were decent, each managing to approach sequel-itis on it’s own clever terms. But they never quite scaled the heights of their tongue-in-cheek original. Wes Craven, slasher auteur since 1972, had finally made his cinematic masterpiece – his warped sense of horror and humor working in hypnotic unison.

Every scary movie crafted in the wake of Scream owes incredible influence, from I Know What You Did Last Summer (1997) and Urban Legend (1998) to the five hundred Scary Movie parodies that arrive every few months. Contemporary slashers that try to play it straight only affirm their goofiness in the light of Scream’s cliché exposé. Hell, even the “found footage” craze of the late 2000’s attempted to be as pop culture savvy as Sidney and her pals.

Nothing comes close, but that’s to be expected when pitted against the first slasher classic of the postmodern age. Scream was, and will always be, the film that bridged the gap between classical and modern horror. Wes Craven may have since passed, but his creativity and ability to manipulate the past isn’t going away anytime soon. Scream will continue to resonate across the globe as long as someone has the gall to ask that daunting question: “What’s your favorite scary movie?”

Danilo Castro

Freelance writer with an affinity for all things film. But if it's not, that's okay too. Contributor to multiple publications and editor of the Film Noir Archive blog when he's not spending his time watching movies.
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