Review #0013
Three years after the second installment, Craven is back, but Williamson is not, nor is Nick Cave. And it shows. The first mistake of the film occurs when Cotton Weary is bumped off during the opening sequence. What a drag! For a series that distinguished itself with evolving characters, it was a wrong move right off the bat. What we're left with is a Neve Campbell far underused, a plethora of unsympathetic, expandable sub-leads and a plot involving Arquette and Cox in a tedious investigation that uses dreary plot twists to tie the series together. Truth is, we don't care to revisit the events of the first film, nor do we need extra exposition about Sidney's mother. Moving backwards is not moving forward, despite what Randy tells us (in a cameo that looks tacked-on at best). Wasting Lance Henriksen, Carrie Fisher, and yes, even Jason Mewes and Kevin Smith in bit roles just to gloss the cast over is not moving forwards. In the end, with a finale far more ridiculous and vain than the second film's, we are left to wonder if the "Scream 3" venture was not as ill-advised and irrelevant as that of "Stab 3", which the film shows as utterly artificial. Craven's direction is on par, but it does little to salvage a scenario that showcases not one bit of the tongue-in-cheek humor, excitement or movie-induced teenage psychosis that made the series great, but only lame settings and plot devices (pinnacle of which is the doppleganging voice box). As if things weren't bad enough, there now seems to be yet another sequel in the making. Williamson is back onboard, meaning we might get something not completely awful. Nonetheless, I just feel that thirteen years after the original "Scream" rejuvenated the slasher sub-genre, there is little else to upgrade upon. Tired as we are of its inescapable conventions, it would literally be a tour-de-force if they could pull it off.
2/5
Showing posts with label Craven. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Craven. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Scream 2 (1997)
Review #0012
Craven and Williamson come back in great shape for this slightly superior sequel that opens with an exhilarating sequence set at the premiere of "Stab", the movie adaptation of "The Woodsboro Murders" by Gale Weathers. Omar Epps and Jada Pinkett are the first two victims of the Ghostface copycat killer, proving Jada's contention that "African-Americans are misrepresented in the horror genre" (the only other Black character in the film being a clichéd cameraman). Cut to Sidney in loose, grey underwear (it's a shame she didn't get the Ripley treatment here...). Now a drama student at Windsor College, she is very much trying to get her life back on tracks. But the killer (or killers) will do anything to prevent it. Most of the cast for this film is comprised of returning characters, including Randy, Dewey, Gale and Cotton Weary (who's now got a primary role), all of which have evolved, and thus become rounder. Arquette is a hoot once again, plus he now has his own heroic theme song (!). Cox is great as the resurrected Weathers, now a self-styled, best-selling author, and Kennedy also as Randy, who dispenses yet another relevant set of rules pertaining to horror films. The self-referential style is back also. This time around, the film showcases many levels of mise-en-abîme, all of which function flawlessly. The discussion about the effects of film violence, and the legitimacy of sequels that the characters engage in directly partakes in the drama. It seems we are constantly in the backstage of some spectacle-in-a-spectacle, be it the film "Stab", a crude parody of the first film (an excerpt from which provides the comical high point of the film - think Wilson and Spelling), or the school play starring Sidney (as Cassandra, no less), which provides the setting for the final confrontation (a showcase of Craven's directorial flair). And although the ending is more than lackluster, the journey was well worth it.
3,5/5
Craven and Williamson come back in great shape for this slightly superior sequel that opens with an exhilarating sequence set at the premiere of "Stab", the movie adaptation of "The Woodsboro Murders" by Gale Weathers. Omar Epps and Jada Pinkett are the first two victims of the Ghostface copycat killer, proving Jada's contention that "African-Americans are misrepresented in the horror genre" (the only other Black character in the film being a clichéd cameraman). Cut to Sidney in loose, grey underwear (it's a shame she didn't get the Ripley treatment here...). Now a drama student at Windsor College, she is very much trying to get her life back on tracks. But the killer (or killers) will do anything to prevent it. Most of the cast for this film is comprised of returning characters, including Randy, Dewey, Gale and Cotton Weary (who's now got a primary role), all of which have evolved, and thus become rounder. Arquette is a hoot once again, plus he now has his own heroic theme song (!). Cox is great as the resurrected Weathers, now a self-styled, best-selling author, and Kennedy also as Randy, who dispenses yet another relevant set of rules pertaining to horror films. The self-referential style is back also. This time around, the film showcases many levels of mise-en-abîme, all of which function flawlessly. The discussion about the effects of film violence, and the legitimacy of sequels that the characters engage in directly partakes in the drama. It seems we are constantly in the backstage of some spectacle-in-a-spectacle, be it the film "Stab", a crude parody of the first film (an excerpt from which provides the comical high point of the film - think Wilson and Spelling), or the school play starring Sidney (as Cassandra, no less), which provides the setting for the final confrontation (a showcase of Craven's directorial flair). And although the ending is more than lackluster, the journey was well worth it.
3,5/5
Scream (1996)
Review #0011
In 1994, Craven gave the "thinking man's horror film" a try. With "Wes Craven's New Nightmare", whose title was pompous at best, he had challenged his followers in their own courtyard, and de-mythologized the figure of Freddy Krueger. Although the film was fairly good, it wasn't strong enough to pull the "Nightmare" series out of its underwater grave. Just enough to give it back the nobility it had lost through the endless mutliplication of sequels. Just like Sly recently, with Rambo and Rocky, Craven tried to reclaim his own series for himself. Having somewhat corrected the mistakes of Sholder, Harlin, Hopkins and Talalay (Hit the showers, Russell, you're off the hook. Hell, I even liked your remake of "The Blob"!), he was ready to start again on the right track. The result is "Scream", a self-referential slasher, and Craven's best effort since " A Nightmare on Elm Street". Following a fun, little phone exchange (which alone seems to rejuvenate the entire slasher formula), some blonde high school girl (Barrymore) gets stabbed and hung by an horror film fan wearing a ghost costume. Cut to the heroine, gorgeous Sidney Prescott (Ontarian Campbell) whose shady-looking boyfriend (Ulrich) may or may not be the killer. By then, she is unaware that the murders are related to the death of her own mother. She is just your average traumatized, virginal beauty. As the story progresses and the bodies pile up, the entire town gets involved and paranoia becomes contagious. As viewers, we are given many clues to the killer's identity, some of which are minute details (such as close-ups on boots), others huge revelations, but mostly dead-ends. Yet, the guessing game constitutes a tiny fraction of the film's fun. Fueled by a savvy Kevin Williamson script, which multiplies film references, loveable characters (above all Dewey, a rookie cop "oozing with inexperience", and Randy, the geeky film buff whom the target audience will surely identify with) and a stellar cast (completed by David Arquette, Rose McGowan, Matthew Lillard, Courteney Cox, Jamie Kennedy, and Henry Winkler) "Scream" is a sure-fire killer that made an instant star out of lovely Neve Campbell. With a breakthrough performance that won her a Saturn Award for Best Actress, she became the queen for a new generation of horny fanboys. Just to say how much the film had an impact on pop culture: it gave birth to a new scream queen at a time nobody expected it. Hats off to Craven, Williamson, and Campbell, but also to Arquette, Cox and Kennedy for resurrecting the slasher genre.
3,5/5
In 1994, Craven gave the "thinking man's horror film" a try. With "Wes Craven's New Nightmare", whose title was pompous at best, he had challenged his followers in their own courtyard, and de-mythologized the figure of Freddy Krueger. Although the film was fairly good, it wasn't strong enough to pull the "Nightmare" series out of its underwater grave. Just enough to give it back the nobility it had lost through the endless mutliplication of sequels. Just like Sly recently, with Rambo and Rocky, Craven tried to reclaim his own series for himself. Having somewhat corrected the mistakes of Sholder, Harlin, Hopkins and Talalay (Hit the showers, Russell, you're off the hook. Hell, I even liked your remake of "The Blob"!), he was ready to start again on the right track. The result is "Scream", a self-referential slasher, and Craven's best effort since " A Nightmare on Elm Street". Following a fun, little phone exchange (which alone seems to rejuvenate the entire slasher formula), some blonde high school girl (Barrymore) gets stabbed and hung by an horror film fan wearing a ghost costume. Cut to the heroine, gorgeous Sidney Prescott (Ontarian Campbell) whose shady-looking boyfriend (Ulrich) may or may not be the killer. By then, she is unaware that the murders are related to the death of her own mother. She is just your average traumatized, virginal beauty. As the story progresses and the bodies pile up, the entire town gets involved and paranoia becomes contagious. As viewers, we are given many clues to the killer's identity, some of which are minute details (such as close-ups on boots), others huge revelations, but mostly dead-ends. Yet, the guessing game constitutes a tiny fraction of the film's fun. Fueled by a savvy Kevin Williamson script, which multiplies film references, loveable characters (above all Dewey, a rookie cop "oozing with inexperience", and Randy, the geeky film buff whom the target audience will surely identify with) and a stellar cast (completed by David Arquette, Rose McGowan, Matthew Lillard, Courteney Cox, Jamie Kennedy, and Henry Winkler) "Scream" is a sure-fire killer that made an instant star out of lovely Neve Campbell. With a breakthrough performance that won her a Saturn Award for Best Actress, she became the queen for a new generation of horny fanboys. Just to say how much the film had an impact on pop culture: it gave birth to a new scream queen at a time nobody expected it. Hats off to Craven, Williamson, and Campbell, but also to Arquette, Cox and Kennedy for resurrecting the slasher genre.
3,5/5
Monday, September 28, 2009
The Hills Have Eyes (1977)
Review #0002
In this minor classic, remade by Alexandre Aja in 2006, Craven revisits the themes earlier explored in The Last House on the Left, but on a slightly bigger scale, with slightly better settings, and a pinch of sci-fi thrown in the mix. The result is yet another gritty, effective thriller that achieves its modest goals despite lame acting, a skeletal plotline and minimal production values. When a vacationing family is stranded in the desert, they must fight for survival against a pack of radioactive mutants. As in House, this is the story of an all-American family confronted with ruthless, almost primitive violence, and of the role reversal that ensues. The returning leitmotif (one that will follow Craven for the remainder of his career) is that of vindictive violence, the question of its legitimacy and, of course, its exploitation as spectacle. The very last frame of the film is enlightening in that regard as it shows the righteous son-in-law as a beastly, blood-thirsty agressor just before the final fade to black that completes the circle of violence. As in all good, visceral horror, the audience is thus put in the uneasy position of the victim/agressor, forced to appraise his own morality. Technically, the film succeeds largely thanks to savvy editing (done by Craven himself) that helps make good use of the vast outdoor settings as a labyrinthine deathtrap, as well as making the outbursts of violence that more gripping. The uneven, mostly unconvincing cast is highlighted by Michael Berryman in his star-making role as Pluto, the somewhat symphatetic mutant whose large forehead and excentric traits are featured on most cover art for the film.
In this minor classic, remade by Alexandre Aja in 2006, Craven revisits the themes earlier explored in The Last House on the Left, but on a slightly bigger scale, with slightly better settings, and a pinch of sci-fi thrown in the mix. The result is yet another gritty, effective thriller that achieves its modest goals despite lame acting, a skeletal plotline and minimal production values. When a vacationing family is stranded in the desert, they must fight for survival against a pack of radioactive mutants. As in House, this is the story of an all-American family confronted with ruthless, almost primitive violence, and of the role reversal that ensues. The returning leitmotif (one that will follow Craven for the remainder of his career) is that of vindictive violence, the question of its legitimacy and, of course, its exploitation as spectacle. The very last frame of the film is enlightening in that regard as it shows the righteous son-in-law as a beastly, blood-thirsty agressor just before the final fade to black that completes the circle of violence. As in all good, visceral horror, the audience is thus put in the uneasy position of the victim/agressor, forced to appraise his own morality. Technically, the film succeeds largely thanks to savvy editing (done by Craven himself) that helps make good use of the vast outdoor settings as a labyrinthine deathtrap, as well as making the outbursts of violence that more gripping. The uneven, mostly unconvincing cast is highlighted by Michael Berryman in his star-making role as Pluto, the somewhat symphatetic mutant whose large forehead and excentric traits are featured on most cover art for the film.
3/5 : for its relevance as a cult film.
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