My quick rating – 7.9/10. An impromptu rewatch with Juliet_witch reminded me that somehow, in all my ramblings about horror, I’d never actually reviewed Scream. Pretty wild considering I first caught this one at the drive-in back in ‘96 and walked away absolutely blown away. Revisiting it nearly three decades later only cements how brilliantly Wes Craven pulled off his slasher renaissance.
The plot follows Sidney Prescott (Neve Campbell), still traumatized by the rape and murder of her mother, as a new masked killer starts slicing his way through their sleepy California town. The film opens with an unforgettable gut-punch: the now-iconic scene where Casey Becker (Drew Barrymore) and her boyfriend Steve fall victim to Ghostface, a costumed killer who loves toying with his prey over the phone before gutting them like fish. It’s chilling, playful, and cruelly effective.
Soon enough, Sidney becomes Ghostface’s next target. Her boyfriend Billy Loomis (Skeet Ulrich) becomes the obvious suspect after a suspiciously timed break-in, but a clever alibi quickly complicates things. Sidney finds temporary refuge at the home of her best friend Tatum (Rose McGowan) and Tatum’s goofy brother, Deputy Dewey (David Arquette), but the murders keep closing in. Meanwhile, aggressive tabloid reporter Gale Weathers (Courteney Cox) is determined to make a sensational career out of Sidney’s tragedy. By the time the teens gather for a house party—because what better way to survive a murder spree than getting drunk and watching horror movies—the stage is set for a final act drenched in blood and popcorn-strewn chaos.
What makes Scream so enduring isn’t just its memorable kills or that eerie Ghostface mask (which has basically become Halloween shorthand for “I like horror”). It’s that Craven, alongside screenwriter Kevin Williamson, knew exactly how played out the slasher genre was by the mid-90s. After the glut of Jason knockoffs, Freddy rip-offs, and every conceivable masked psycho stalking coeds through the ‘80s, audiences were burnt out. Scream took those worn-out tropes, turned them inside out, and winked at us the whole time. And did so without mocking the genre it clearly loved.
This movie is proudly self-aware. It literally lays out the “rules” of horror movies while gleefully breaking or subverting them, managing to be both a clever satire and a legitimately nerve-jangling thriller. The gore doesn’t hold back either. From garage doors that do more than just open and close, to bloody chest carvings, Craven made sure Scream didn’t just talk the slasher talk, it walked it, knife in hand.
And let’s not forget the cast. Neve Campbell’s Sidney is the definitive ‘90s final girl—vulnerable but tough, smart without being invincible. Matthew Lillard oozes insane psychopath energy, David Arquette is unforgettable as the kooky lawman, and Courteney Cox’s Gale Weathers is the perfect blend of opportunistic and oddly likable.
Watching it again in 2025, I can confidently say Scream still absolutely holds up. If it feels familiar now, it’s only because so many have tried to imitate its meta style since. But back when it dropped, this was a fresh, bloody breath of air that jolted the slasher genre back to life and reminded everyone why horror mattered. Essential viewing—then and now.
Plenty of options for you to stream this one with #Shocktober coming up, including Amazon.