There’s some irony with regards to the late horror legend Wes Craven having his name attached to director Nick Simon’s The Girl In The Photographs. Wes took the horror genre places it had never been in with films like Last House On The Left, A Nightmare On Elm Street and Scream. To say the man was ahead of his time is an understatement. Unfortunately, The Girl In The Photographs (set for release on April Fool’s Day, no less) shares none of the groundbreaking aspects of Wes’ work.

Colleen (Claudia Lee) is a Spearfish, South Dakota teen who has been receiving disturbing photographs featuring a serial killer’s misdeeds. Each time she reports the photos, Spearfish Sheriff Porter (Mitch Pileggi) rebuffs her, as there’s no evidence of an actual crime. At the same time, a sleazy LA celebrity photographer Peter Hemmings (Kal Penn) receives word of the photographs, where the subjects are similarly posed as the subjects in his own photographs. In retaliation, Hemmings travels to Spearfish in hopes of creating a faux murder photo shoot of his own.

Being that Craven exec-produced The Girl In The Photographs, there are some aspects that show his influence. For one, the way Simon stages the first killing of the film harkens back to Drew Barrymore’s demise in the original Scream. As well, there’s a lot of in-jokes to be found for those who enjoy such winks to the audience (such as the killers being named “Tom” and “Gerry”). I personally didn’t enjoy them. Simon’s decision to have Halloween Cinematographer Dean Cundey doing the setup for shots helped to make the film look more impressive than its budget would normally allow. This helps out when the plasma starts flowing in the film’s last acts, of which there is plenty. It gets pretty brutal.

Surprisingly, instead of Lee’s character being the standout of the film, it’s actually Kal Penn’s turn as the douchebag hipster (redundant, I know) Hemmings. It doesn’t take long for you to see the character is based on real-life douchebag hipster photographer Terry Richardson. Egocentric and irritating, Penn’s Hemmings reeks of pretentiousness. Even more surprising is that after you get past the obnoxious nature of the character, the dialogue becomes hilarious with Penn’s dry delivery. It’s clear Penn is having a blast, and it was definitely a great decision to have him in the role. However, the humour starts to wear thin once we get into extended sequences involving Hemmings ridiculing and debasing everyone. Luckily, he does die in satisfactory fashion, so it works out. As for Lee, her role doesn’t work out quite so well.

Part of having a good film is making the protagonist worthy of sympathy/attention. With The Girl In The Photographs, it’s disappointing that Lee’s character is so emotionless and bland. Really, if I had my friends being killed around me, I’d be doing far more than appearing to battle narcolepsy. Lee’s character isn’t the only one. Almost everyone in the film acts like they’re borderline incompetent. Sheriff Porter’s role is irrelevant, if only there to squash the initial question of why Colleen didn’t go to the police with her photos and nothing else. The same can be said for Toby Levins’ disposable Deputy Daniels. Collen’s ex-boyfriend, Ben (Toby Hemingway), is seemingly there for red herring purposes only. The story by co-writers Robert Morast and Osgood Perkins just feels generic, and has an overwhelming sense of “been there, done that” revolving around characters you couldn’t care about any less than you already do. As a result, the suspense goes out the window, and the film becomes a predictable crawl.

Just prior to the film’s ending credits, the words “For Wes” appear. It may be for good intentions, but Wes Craven definitely deserved better than The Girl In The Photographs as his last film credit. None of what made Wes’ films great was to be found in this one. Sure, Penn’s role and the film’s look certainly were positives, but with such bland characters and story, and a lack of suspense, there’s really no reason to see this film. Even with the brutality of the film’s final act, and even if an annoying hipster (again, redundant) does have a satisfying death, it’s still not enough to warrant seeing the film. You’re better off seeing Wes’ classics, or seeking out a slasher that does more than a paint-by-numbers routine.