Back in 1996, horror-movie director Wes Craven redefined the slasher genre by making a slasher film about people who had watched slasher films. That is to say, with one shrill Scream, Craven and screenwriter Kevin Williamson created characters who knew the homicidal futility of answering the phone, running up the stairs, walking past dimly lit doorframes, and daring to utter the death-warrant words I’ll be right back when a ghost-faced fiend is bumming around with a butcher’s knife. The film was a huge critical and commercial success, with cinema buffs tickled pink with the self-referential writing and audiences suitably bejesused by the set-piece slayings. Rated 18, it packed a grisly punch and spawned two sequels before heroine Sidney Prescott (Neve Campbell) got to grips with caller ID and retirement from being the worst friend to have since Jessica Fletcher.
More than a decade later, and the Scream series gets a long awaited fourgy of blood-splattered babes and knowing dweebs to torture and dice up, with typical humour and red herrings to throw you off the scent. This time round Sidney’s made the rather foolish decision to add her old stomping ground of Woodsboro onto the list of stops of her book promotion junket. And wouldn’t you know it, it’s not long after she rolls into town when her niece (Emma Roberts) and chums get turned to chump by Sidney’s biggest fan.
