Editorials
Julie James: A Forgotten Final Girl Finally Steps into the Spotlight
WARNING: The following contains major spoilers for the I Know What You Did Last Summer franchise.
Final Girls are the bread and butter of the horror genre. The sole survivors of slasher films, they battle masked killers and bear the trauma of their loved ones’ deaths. The term was codified in 1992 by Carol J. Clover in her seminal Men, Women, and Chainsaws, describing characters dating back to ’70s horror. But the idea of a final girl has evolved over the years as the genre itself has changed. This beloved archetype was reborn in the mid-90s as meta-slashers reinvigorated the format. While Scream’s Sidney Prescott (Neve Campbell) and Gale Weathers (Courteney Cox) rightfully dominate this period of feminist empowerment, one final girl often goes overlooked.
Julie James (Jennifer Love Hewitt) stars in Jim Gillespie’s I Know What You Did Last Summer, a slasher released in the wake of Scream’s unprecedented success. Loosely based on a YA mystery by Lois Duncan, the film follows the aftermath of a horrific accident on the 4th of July. Through two films, we watch Julie and her boyfriend Ray (Freddie Prinze Jr.) evade a mysterious man in a black rain slicker intent on making them pay for their secret crime.
While I Know What You Did Last Summer and its over-the-top sequel both have their staunch defenders, Julie James is frequently left out of conversations about the genre’s favorite final girls. But why is she so often forgotten? She’s an empowered heroine with a strong moral compass who survives multiple attacks from a bloodthirsty killer. She’s even got her own iconic catch phrase. However, her story is marred by a frustrating man who repeatedly drags her back into danger.

When we first meet Julie, she’s a high school graduate looking forward to a bright future. Headed off to college, she plans to maintain a long distance relationship with Ray while her friend Helen (Sarah Michelle Gellar) seeks fame and fortune with her boyfriend Barry (Ryan Phillippe). But a cruel twist of fate derails these plans. While joyriding down a winding, cliff-side road, the reckless teens run over a stranger who stumbles in front of their speeding car. Fearing the consequences of vehicular manslaughter, Barry pressures the group to conceal the accident and go on with their lives as if nothing has happened.
One year later, they are worse for wear. Both couples have split and all four former friends live under a shadow of disappointment and depression. But someone insists they pay for their crimes and bombards the group with ominous notes. Even worse, a mysterious fisherman with a razor-sharp hook proceeds to pick them off one by one.
Determined to survive, Julie begins investigating this man’s identity, but discovers that Ray has secrets of his own. This distrust sends her into the clutches of the actual killer, a local fisherman named Ben Willis (Muse Watson) and the man they hit and left for dead. Julie finds herself trapped on Willis’s boat and frantically tries to stay alive while discovering the frozen bodies of her murdered friends. Ray rushes aboard and manages to save her in the nick of time, sending Willis—minus a hand—flying into the darkened sea.
With the killer and his actions revealed, Ray and Julie again choose not to disclose the earlier accident, claiming they know nothing of the killer’s motives. They rekindle their relationship, but cannot shake the weight of this lie by omission. In the final scene, we cut to a healthier Julie making passionate plans with Ray when she spies a familiar message on a bathroom mirror. The fisherman bursts headfirst through the glass, enveloping us all in his sinister shadow. This impossible stinger harkens back to the jarring final attacks of Friday the 13th (1980) and A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984) and should not be taken as a literal plot point. However, it does cast an uncomfortable light on a future romance between Julie and Ray.

Danny Cannon’s 1998 sequel I Still Know What You Did Last Summer follows Julie further into her college career as she continues to deal with this complex trauma. Her roommate Karla (Brandy Norwood) urges her to rejoin the world and perhaps cozy up with her shy classmate Will (Matthew Settle). But Julie is still committed to Ray despite their increasingly rocky relationship. He still works on the Southport docks, a location Julie finds extremely triggering. Ray grows impatient and asks for space, turning down a romantic weekend in the Bahamas and once again sending Julie into the arms of the killer.
Despite its flaws, I Still Know What You Did Last Summer is a charming slasher with a stand-out cast and impressive kills. Though it failed to kickstart a larger franchise, Cannon does finally give Julie an empowering turn. Presumably buried at sea, Willis returns to exact his revenge, this time employing a second killer. Will turns out to be the fisherman’s son and Julie finds herself in a stormy cemetery with two dangerous men. Though Ray is instrumental in this climactic fight—causing Willis to kill his own child—it’s Julie who strikes the final blow. She unloads a pistol into the murderous fisherman and sends him into the grave he dug for her. Ray and Julie rekindle their romance but once again, stress darkens their domestic bliss.

The second film ends with another implausible stinger as Julie senses danger inside her home. She spies Ben hiding under the bed just seconds before he attacks, dragging her backward as the camera fades. Taken symbolically, these imagined attacks reveal the depths of Julie’s lingering trauma and shed uncomfortable light on her relationship with Ray. Both scenes begin with romantic moments: an upcoming weekend visit and a night together in their newly bought love nest. But on both occasions, the specter of what they’ve done hangs in the air, ruining any future intimacy. Though it seems she has moved on with Ray, Julie cannot escape the weight of their collective guilt and it’s him, not Willis, who continues to trigger these frightening visions. Perhaps Julie’s body is telling her not to move forward with a man so closely linked to her unresolved trauma.
Maybe this is the reason Julie never rises to the ranks of our favorite final girls. In addition to being overshadowed by Helen’s truly spectacular chase/murder sequence in the original film and the real-life marriage of Gellar and Prinze, Julie’s story feels forever linked to Ray. And, while both actors are likeable enough, we rarely see the couple on stable ground. A few short scenes on a moonlit beach are all we get before the accident casts a permanent shadow over their love. Until the first film’s final scene, Julie avoids time alone with her former flame and outright believes he might be the killer. Ray is similarly sidelined in Cannon’s sequel as he rushes to find Julie at an island resort. When they do reunite, it’s only in the shadow of the fisherman’s death, implying that he’s the one poisoning their otherwise healthy relationship and not a shared history of terror and death. We never see a constructive conversation about moving forward on healthy ground nor does Ray apologize to Julie for coercing her silence. The majority of both films see the couple either formally broken up or on the outs, making it difficult to embrace them as a heroic team.

But Jennifer Kaytin Robinson’s new I Know What You Did Last Summer finally breaks Julie out of this frustrating cycle. When a new group of teens face a similar threat, Ava (Chase Sui Wonders) reaches out to Julie, who now teaches trauma theory at a nearby university. Catching up with the assertive professor, we learn that Julie did in fact marry Ray, but their relationship has since fallen apart—not surprising given their tense and troubled past. We don’t learn the details of this split except for vague mentions of Ray’s denial, but Julie has vowed to stay away from Southport where Ray now owns a dock-side bar. Ava’s friend Stevie (Sarah Pidgeon) reaches out to the man for similar help and the former spouses have an awkward reunion in Julie’s home. While Ray urges the teens to protect themselves, Julie’s advice is more proactive. Remembering her own climactic moment in the second film, she tells Ava that the only way to survive is to hunt down the fisherman and kill him first.
Though Julie wants nothing to do with Ray, he once again drags her back into danger. When Stevie turns out to be the killer, we learn that Ray has been helping her exact revenge. It’s a refreshing turn for this troubled franchise and something legacy sequels have long resisted. Though our favorite final girls frequently return, directors seem hesitant to paint them as villains. Here, Robinson builds upon a pattern of distrust first established in Gillespie’s original, breaking Julie and Ray up once and for all. And let’s not forget that Ray was behind the wheel all those years ago and a driving force behind the group’s vow of silence. Though clearly an accident, Ray is directly linked to Julie’s trauma and at least partially responsible for decades of pain. Though far from perfect, Robinson’s I Know What You Did Last Summer sees Ray as an unsupportive boyfriend and husband before transforming him into an outright killer.

Though Stevie is driven by simple revenge, Ray’s motivation is much more complex. He’s frustrated that Southport has covered up the fisherman’s original killing spree and swept his friends’ deaths under the rug. He may have gotten away with vehicular manslaughter, but he’s been unable to escape the unresolved guilt. When the fisherman murders begin again, Ray barges into a town meeting, insisting they acknowledge the town’s unsavory past. As the undiscovered murderer, he would benefit from this collective denial, but Ray seems to crave justice more than anything else. He can’t forget what he did that long-ago summer and has orchestrated a way to punish himself. Either he will kill an approximation of his younger self by helping Stevie kill her friends, or he’ll die trying to kill Julie, finally atoning for the original accident.
Once again, Julie survives long enough to be saved as Ava shoots Ray in the back with a speargun. Though hardly the most empowering ending, this allows Julie to finally step out of Ray’s shadow. She reconnects with Karla and the former roommates agree to team up and hunt down any remaining threats. To her credit, Julie never blames Ray for the horrific events they’ve both survived, and we should probably follow her lead. When they first reunite in the original film she gives a brutally simple explanation for breaking things off. While standing near the scene of their crime she says, “I don’t hold you responsible. No, I’m responsible for my own actions and I don’t blame you. But I don’t want to know you either.”
Perhaps Julie had it right all along in separating herself from Ray. As a single college professor standing on her own two feet, she finally seems to have found happiness after moving past the mistakes of her troubled youth. Robinson allows the audience to catch up with this empowerment promising an exciting new chapter for the forgotten final girl.
I Know What You Did Last Summer (2025) is now available on Digital at home.
Editorials
Tales from ‘Tales from the Crypt’: Exhuming Season Six’s “Only Skin Deep” Episode
The penultimate season of Tales from the Crypt (1989–1996) aired its first three episodes on October 31, so it’s understandable that at least one of those three stories is set on Halloween.
Sandwiched between “Let the Punishment Fit the Crime” (Russell Mulcahy, Ron Finley) and “Whirlpool” (Mick Garris, A. L. Katz & Gilbert Adler) is the most severe episode of the bunch. Maybe the entire series? William Malone and Dick Beebe’s “Only Skin Deep” traded the show’s typical sense of fun for startling amounts of bleakness and kink.
“Only Skin Deep” is, apart from the Crypt Keeper’s intro and outro, noticeably unfunny. There are no considerable attempts at making the viewer laugh. Come to think of it, if those bookends had been replaced, and there was more of a sci-fi element in the story, HBO could have easily squeezed this tale into that successor anthology, Perversions of Science (1997). In Crypt, though, “Only Skin Deep” is much too grim for an audience that had become accustomed to campiness and levity.
What makes “Only Skin Deep” feel dark, among other things, is its protagonist. Showing up to a Halloween party where he’s not welcome, and where his former girlfriend (Diane DiLasco) is attending, Carl Schlag (Peter Onorati) first comes across as your standard bitter ex. You soon realize it’s much worse than that, once Carl threatens Linda (“You know, silly me, thinking I gave you what you deserved. If I’d have done that, I’d have killed you”). Now, I haven’t forgotten that Tales from the Crypt was teeming with vile men who did women harm. Yet Carl’s brand of misogynistic menace hits differently—it borders on being too realistic for this kind of series.

Mike Vosburg’s EC-style comic cover for “Only Skin Deep”, as seen in the Tales from the Crypt episode.
Despite donning a party mask for much of the episode, Carl can’t ever mask his true nature. The invitation did say “come as you are”, after all. That inability to change and be better, however, is why Carl ends up in such a karmic predicament. His outburst of anger at the party attracts the attention of one loner partygoer named Molly (Sherrie Rose, who was also in Season Four’s “On a Deadman’s Chest”). Her bone-white, featureless “mask” and body-bag costume don’t initially register as too strange, especially on a night like this. But at a party chock-full of colorful, cartoonish, and lighthearted ensembles, it does look out of place.
Darkness attracts darkness as Carl ditches the party and accompanies the mysterious Molly to her place. Which, by the way, should have been an immediate red flag. But perhaps she’s so hot, he doesn’t seem to mind the serial killer aesthetic. Resembling a warehouse that has been converted into living spaces, but never then decorated to remove the cold, industrial look, Molly’s home (or lair) is as gloomy as this whole episode feels. It’s like the set of a grungy music video, albeit a tad cleaner. The environments in a typical Crypt episode tend to be small, overfilled, and broken-in. Warm, regardless of any weird goings-on. All that empty space in Molly’s hovel, on the other hand, elicits a creepy feeling that Carl was unwise to ignore.
Tales from the Crypt featured more sex than it didn’t, but hands down, “Only Skin Deep” boasts the steamiest scene in the show’s history. Pushing it over the line, in addition to Onorati showing bare buns and the camera never turning down one of his pelvic thrusts, is the twisted dirty talk. Carl stays in the moment, whereas Molly unleashes charged lines like “the hurt, the anger, give it to me” and “take it out on my flesh like you want to”. It’s all quite kinky, as well as tied into the story’s theme of pain.
How else “Only Skin Deep” differs from other episodes is its twists. Or rather, its lack thereof. Nothing comes as a great surprise here, particularly because the deuteragonist’s ulterior motives are so obvious. By no means is Molly a wolf in sheep’s clothing; her face is a fright mask, she practically reeks of death, and she lives in what can best be described as a serial killer’s hideout. That last-act revelation of Molly’s mask really being her face is also nothing shocking. Cleverness is certainly not this episode’s strength.

A page from “…Only Skin Deep!”, as seen in EC Comics’ Tales from the Crypt.
While “Only Skin Deep” isn’t the most universally loved episode of Tales from the Crypt, it’s an interesting preview of William Malone’s future as a director. Most notably, he went on to helm House on Haunted Hill (1999) and FeardotCom (2002), the former of which was co-written by Dick Beebe, this episode’s writer. Dark Castle Entertainment, that genre house founded by Crypt producers Joel Silver, Robert Zemeckis, and Gilbert Adler, was instrumental in bringing out Malone’s gruesome, over-the-top vision in House on Haunted Hill. However, FeardotCom and Malone’s Masters of Horror episode, “Fair-Haired Child”, are the most stylistically compatible with “Only Skin Deep”.
As one might guess, this episode is nothing like its source material. The “…Only Skin Deep!” found in the pages of EC Comics is set during Mardi Gras in New Orleans, and save for its last couple of pages, is pretty sweet in nature. There, a man named Herbert is enamored with a woman he met five years prior to the present-day story. Every year, he has come down to Mardi Gras to see Suzanne, who’s always dressed as a hag-faced witch. Well, this time, Herbert plans on popping the question and marrying someone who is, for the most part, a total stranger. Suzanne accepts his proposal, but with one condition: they stay in costume until they’re officially hitched. You can probably see where this is going…
Once they are married, Suzanne remains incognito, even when she and Herbert have consummated their vows. A semi-predictive nightmare then rattles Herbert; he dreamt that Suzanne’s real face was as wizened as her mask. Finally, in his haste to find out the truth, Herbert winds up killing his new wife. Faceless and well on her way to bleeding out, the dying Suzanne manages to say she never wore a mask.
For more traditional EC-style ghastliness, your best bet is reading the comic. It’s wickedly sad. For something less conventional, as far as Tales from the Crypt goes, the role-reversing adaptation is worth watching. It’s not the best this show had to offer, although Malone’s visual style, plus the sexual abandon, does set the episode apart. If nothing else, “Only Skin Deep” leaves an impression that, even years later, shows no signs of fading.
Season Six of Tales from the Crypt can be streamed on Shudder, starting on June 5.
Tales from Tales from the Crypt celebrates the show’s Shudder premiere by singling out one episode from each season. So don’t even think about changing that dial, boys and ghouls. More spot-“frights” are to come.

Carl discovers Molly’s collection of human ‘masks’ in the Tales from the Crypt episode, “Only Skin Deep”.

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