Scream 7, 2026.
Directed by Kevin Williamson.
Starring Neve Campbell, Isabel May, Courteney Cox, Jasmin Savoy-Brown, Mason Gooding, Anna Camp, Michelle Randolph, Jimmy Tatro, Mckenna Grace, Asa Germann, Celeste O’Connor, Sam Rechner, Mark Consuelos, Tim Simons, Joel McHale, David Arquette, and Matthew Lillard.
SYNOPSIS:
When a new Ghostface killer emerges in the town where Sidney Prescott has built a new life, her darkest fears are realized as her daughter becomes the next target.
Scream 7 is disappointingly straightforward. With original writer Kevin Williamson now stepping into the director’s chair for his first installment in the franchise and only the second time in his career (it didn’t go well the first time), it’s no surprise that nothing stands out about the filmmaking. As a writer, though, he has had his finger on the pulse of the horror genre this series has deconstructed, satirized, and subverted, with brain-teasing serial-killer whodunits featuring crackling dialogue (alongside the late, legendary director Wes Craven). It is frustrating how little effort there is to match even a fraction of that biting, sharp intelligence.
Of course, some slack is in order considering he has been handicapped by a studio firing one lead (Melissa Barrera) and alienating another (Jenna Ortega) of the new trilogy for outspokenly supporting the “free Palestine” movement (Paramount reportedly has a blacklist for actors they deem anti-Semitic, which, in this case, translates to anyone speaking out against the genocide Israel is carrying out). I also wasn’t even planning on getting too deep into the weeds on the production nightmare that has essentially caused two stories and scripts (Guy Busick is also credited as a writer here) to be ungraciously fused together (the entire opening kill sequence has nothing to do with the rest of the movie), until a dialogue exchange between two prominent characters made it very clear that they were giving an inside, petty “fuck you” to Melissa Barrera. That right there, as far as I’m concerned, gives every critic carte blanche to say “fuck you” right back at Paramount.
The pivot: bring back Neve Campbell’s original final girl Sidney Prescott, who now apparently has multiple children although the only one we see more than once and is relevant to the plot is teenaged daughter Tatum (Isabel May), who is reaching an age where she wants to know more about the horrific, traumatic details surrounding the several bloodbath string of murders her mom has survived as the ultimate target. Hauling ass out of Woodsboro and residing in a new town, she now goes by Sidney Evans, married to police chief Mark (Joel McHale). Suddenly, a new Ghostface (likely plural, as is usually the case, but most importantly, still with a Roger L. Jackson voice changer) has made their presence felt not only through death and threatening phone calls, but also through Facetiming, putting deepfake technology to use, presenting as dead characters from the past. Or maybe someone never really died…
Admittedly, an anti-AI statement would have been one way to make all of this a little less rancid, but the film can’t even follow through on that. It doesn’t necessarily take a stance on AI, but treats it as a nifty gimmick (thankfully, the film isn’t actually using generative AI; it’s just using this as an opportunity to bring back cast members of dead characters, because severe nostalgic dopamine is the resort here). Although even nostalgia-gobblers might grow tired of this quickly.
What must also be admitted is that, even if there is a largely uninteresting new ensemble of teenagers and potential killers, ranging from Tatum’s boyfriend (Sam Rechner) to theater friends (Mckenna Grace the most noteworthy, collecting franchises like Pokémon) to neighbors (Asa Germann and Anna Camp), the proceedings are mildly entertaining and maintain momentum from one set piece to the next. There are also a couple of truly brutal kills, which means the film occasionally satisfies the most basic bloodlust principle of a slasher.
Unfortunately, the predictability of the opening sequence (which is typically an intensely exciting tone-setter regarding what about horror specifically is on the writers’ minds) carries over to the rest of the narrative. There is nothing new here to say about favorite scary movies, genre tropes, or even legacy chapters. If anything, this film is, as mentioned, committed straightforwardly to functioning as an uninspired riff on the Halloween reboot. Even then, the film is too overcrowded with subplots and characters (there are even some leftovers from the previous two movies careening in here, only making it more glaring and sour that whatever was planned with Melissa Barrera and Jenna Ortega went out the window) that there is no time to tell an emotional mother-daughter story or say anything about trauma. Hell, this entry isn’t even trying to have fun mocking the idea that every horror movie is about generational trauma nowadays.
One of those diversions involves a town curfew that, while it certainly exists for plot reasons, also seems to be here to cover up the rough direction here, which is so devoid of bustle and life that no one would be hassled for mistakenly thinking this is a pandemic production. However, none of this pales in comparison to the dreadful reveals that come with the thinnest of motivations. It takes whatever goodwill the slasher aspect of Scream 7 had going for it and undoes it. It’s time to stab this franchise to death.
Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★
Robert Kojder
