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‘Scream’ – Why Wes Craven’s Classic Is Still the Perfect Scary Movie for Horror Newcomers

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What’s your favorite scary movie?

Nah, that’s too trite.

What horror movie would you show to someone who has never seen one before?

You may have the same answer to both questions, but the latter requires a bit more thought. John Carpenter’s Halloween is my favorite movie, but I recognize it most likely would not hold up under the scrutiny of a viewer who’s used to flashy modern cinema.

Instead, I would show them Wes Craven’s Scream.

I know what you’re thinking: wouldn’t Scream‘s meta references be lost on a viewer unfamiliar with the trappings of the genre? But one of the many brilliant aspects of Kevin Williamson’s script is how it brazenly draws attention to the tropes before turning them on their head. The meta approach also gives the film a timeless quality, despite it otherwise being very much of-the-moment circa 1996. Sure, there are references that may go over a newcomer’s head, but for the most part Williamson ensures everyone is in on the joke.

I speak from experience, as Scream is one of the first horror movies I ever saw. It was the TV premiere; I want to say it was on Fox, probably around Scream 3‘s release in 2000, but I haven’t been able to find any confirmation of the airing. I was in middle school, about 11 years old or so. I vividly recall staying up past my bedtime to see the ending and then being scared that Ghostface would get me when I walked to the bus stop the next morning.

It’s rare for a derivative work to best the original, but Scream built on the tension of When a Stranger Calls to create the greatest horror movie opening of all time, bar none. It all starts with a phone call. Even I knew who Drew Barrymore was, thanks to The Wedding Singer, and was shocked to see her killed so mercilessly. Craven eloquently conducts a symphony of suspense that remains shocking today, when landlines are virtually antiques.

Although I first saw it cropped to 4:3 full screen, I would later come to appreciate how Craven and director of photography Mark Irwin (who, incidentally, shot one of my favorite movies as a kid, Dumb and Dumber) masterfully utilized the 2.39:1 anamorphic widescreen format throughout the film, accentuated by Marco Beltrami’s spine-chilling score.

Like a ’90s update to John Hughes’ brat pack of the prior decade, the ensemble consists of relatable, modern characters played by a hot, young cast spouting hip dialogue. Beyond being good actors individually, a believable camaraderie exists among them. Neve Campbell earns the distinction of being perhaps horror’s all-time greatest final girl with a nuanced performance as the vulnerable yet resourceful Sidney Prescott.

Skeet Ulrich brings to mind a young Johnny Depp — who Craven helped put on the map with A Nightmare on Elm Street — in the role of Sidney’s unhinged boyfriend, Billy. Friends star Courteney Cox plays against type as aggressive reporter Gale Weathers. David Arquette effectively harnesses Nicolas Cage-like eccentricities as the boyish, bumbling Deputy Dewey. Not to be outdone, Matthew Lillard goes full operatic with his saliva-laden performance as Billy’s co-conspirator, Stu. Jamie Kennedy serves as an analog for the viewer as Randy, the resident movie geek who calls out characters’ foolish decisions. Rose McGowan rounds out the cast as Sidney’s feisty best friend, Tatum.

As much talent as there was both behind and in front of the camera, much of Scream‘s success can be attributed to happenstance: Craven passed on the gig at first and was almost fired during production. The mask was found while location scouting. Drew Barrymore was originally cast as Sidney before deciding she wanted to play Casey. Arquette was asked to read for Billy before expressing interest in Dewey (despite him being younger than Ulrich, Lillard, and Kennedy).

Between Williamson’s pitch-perfect script and Craven’s sharp direction, Scream delivers thrills, chills, and laughs in nearly equal measure. Although far from the first slasher to dovetail into an murder-mystery, Scream‘s two-killer reveal is arguably the most effective use of the format this side of Agatha Christie. It would be a stretch to call the film a horror-comedy, but much of the satirization holds up. Roger Jackson’s disquieting voice of the killer strikes a balance between brilliance and menace akin to Hannibal. That the Ghostface costume was readily available at every Halloween shop lends verisimilitude, as does the killer’s clumsiness.

Having extended the longevity of the slasher genre once before with A Nightmare on Elm Street in 1984, Scream made Craven responsible for revolutionizing the entire genre. A sleeper hit that grossed over $100 million domestically on a $14 million budget, Scream launched a new boom of teen-focused, self-aware horror movies hoping to cash in on its success. But with even the best of them failing to come close to matching Scream‘s ingenuity, audiences grew tired of the trend.

The legion of shameless imitators became something of an albatross around Scream‘s neck. Much like how Saw is often maligned for jump-starting the so-called “torture porn” trend of the aughts, Scream became guilty by association. With the likes of Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, and Freddy Krueger having cemented themselves as horror icons, Ghostface was the new kid on the block trying to prove his worth.

Love it or hate it, Scream‘s status as a horror classic is indisputable after nearly three decades. It was upon revisiting the franchise in anticipation of last year’s “requel,” I came to the realization that not only is Scream one of my favorite movies but it would also be a perfect choice to indoctrinate a newcomer to the genre.

So, what horror movie would you show to someone who has never seen one before?

Editorials

‘The Company of Wolves’ at 40: One of the Most Underrated Werewolf Movies Ever Made

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There’s a compelling idea in anthropology that many ancient werewolf legends are derived from our species’ need to rationalize the more animalistic side of humanity – which is why lycanthropy has historically been used to explain everything from medieval serial killers to cannibalism. While I personally think there’s a lot more to unpack when it comes to tales of wolfmen and women, this is still a great example of why so many of our most enduring fairy tales involve big bad wolves.

And in the world of film, I think there’s only one feature that really nails the folkloric origins of werewolf stories, namely Neil Jordan’s 1984 fairy-tale horror classic, The Company of Wolves. Even four decades later, there’s no other genre flick that comes close to capturing the dreamlike ambience behind this strange anthology, and that’s why I’d like to take this opportunity to look back on one of the most underrated werewolf flicks ever made.

The Company of Wolves was originally a short story contained in the 1979 anthology The Bloody Chamber, a collection of deconstructed fairy-tales intended for mature readers penned by English author Angela Carter. With the book quickly becoming a hit as readers became fascinated with its subversion of classic folk stories and (then) controversial feminist undertones, it was soon transformed into a duology of BBC radio-dramas which adapted both The Company of Wolves and Carter’s reimagining of Puss-in-Boots.

These radio-dramas soon attracted the attention of then up-and-coming Irish filmmaker Neil Jordan, who decided to meet with Carter to discuss expanding on her stories and bringing them to life on the big screen. The duo soon realized that a single short story wasn’t enough material for a feature-length film, so they decided to adapt all of Carter’s werewolf tales into a single anthology.

With a completed script and a $2.3 million budget, Jordan decided to tackle the project like a hybrid between a theatrical period drama and a schlocky monster movie. Effects-heavy creature features were a hot commodity back in the ’80s, with films like The Howling and An American Werewolf in London proving that there was an audience for horrific lycanthrope transformations, so the director soon recruited a team that could turn this odd collection of feminist folk stories into something commercially viable.

Not exactly a great pick for family movie night.

Shooting would eventually take place almost entirely within the England-based Shepperton Studios, with notable production designer Anton Furst (who would later be known for his work on Tim Burton’s Batman films) helping to bring Jordan’s vision of a darkly romantic fairy-tale world to life. Appropriately enough, production would also involve a real pack of trained wolves (as well as a collection of dyed dogs), though extensive puppetry and animatronics were also used to flesh out the more gruesome parts of the flick.

After a grueling nine-week shoot where budgetary constraints led to corners being cut on props and costumes, The Company of Wolves was finally released in September of 1984 – just in time for spooky season. In the finished film, we follow the strange dreams of a sulky teenage girl named Rosaleen (first-time actress Sarah Patterson) as the film unravels an Arabian-Nights-inspired tapestry of both familiar and not-so-familiar stories about big bad wolves.

From sexually charged cautionary tales to parables about female empowerment, this surreal collection of deranged bedtime stories is much more than the creature feature that the marketing initially suggested. Like a more horror-oriented version of Jim Henson’s Labyrinth, The Company of Wolves exudes that same kind of hormonal teenage energy that transports us back to a time when the world was both scary and exciting in equal measure.

That’s not to say that this is an entirely pleasant experience, however, and I’m not just talking about the film’s horror elements. A big portion of the flick’s overtly sexual moments involve the then 13-year-old Patterson coming to grips with her blossoming womanhood and the dangers of predatory men (usually marked with a humorous unibrow), something that naturally makes for some intentionally uncomfortable viewing – especially in the year of our lord 2024.

Obviously, I don’t think it’s my place to dissect (or even judge) the effectiveness of the film’s commentaries on being a young woman, but even as a man I can still appreciate the thought and care that went into crafting this Jungian cocktail of serious themes in a genre-movie package that almost certainly went on to inspire future werewolf movies like Ginger Snaps.

Not the worst wedding I’ve been to.

That being said, what really keeps me coming back to the film is the absurd amount of memorable imagery. From a wedding party being taken over by canines to lonely treks through snowy groves, this is exactly the gloomy world I imagined as a child when reading Grimms’ Fairy Tales – and the dreamy atmosphere is only enhanced by the movie’s overall theatricality.

This also extends to the effects, as it’s easy to forgive decapitated dummy heads and ripped rubber skin when everything is happening in a magical hyper-reality, with a great example of this is being the scene where Grandma’s head unexpectedly explodes like a porcelain doll when it’s knocked off by a wolfman. That’s not to say that the effects are bad, as several of these transformations are downright grisly and likely influenced future lycanthrope effects like those in Underworld and even Trick ‘r Treat (even if the wolf-dogs here often look more cute than scary).

Of course, these aren’t the only things that The Company of Wolves has going for it, as the main trio of Patterson, Micha Bergese and the late, great Angela Lansbury exceptionally bring these exaggerated caricatures to life and the orchestral score is an absolute delight. I also really get a kick out of that bizarre ending implying that the dangers of adult life have literally come crashing into Rosaleen’s bedroom.

The Company of Wolves may not be a perfect film, suffering from some wonky pacing and the classic anthology problem where some stories are clearly much more enjoyable than others, but I’d argue that the flick’s iconic visuals and powerful thematic throughline more than make up for any minor flaws. And while we’ve seen bigger and better werewolf films since then, when it comes to adult-oriented fairy-tales, this is one psycho-sexual journey that is still worth revisiting 40 years down the line.

The Company of Wolves

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