In a cruel bit of irony, the likes of which have not been witnessed since seeming unknowing boy band Blink 182 made fun of boy bands in their "All the Small Things" video, the "Scream" series has become the very thing it set out to mock: a cheesy horror franchise.
By exposing the rules of horror films (and building upon them, to a certain extent, in the less entertaining "Scream 2") and then twisting them just enough to keep you reeling/squirming, "Scream" was an elaborate, self-aware and deceptively smart house of mirrors that knocked the proverbial fourth wall down and hit you over the top of your head with it.
Thank former wunderkind and "Scream" 1 & 2 writer Kevin Williamson. He would later collapse from overwork by taking the irreverence that made "Scream" all it was to 1,001 projects, everything from "Dawson's Creek" to "The Faculty" to "Wasteland" to "Teaching Mrs. Tingle." But with his pen no longer on board, the (hopefully) final chapter in the "Scream" franchise is dead on arrival.
In place of Williamson, we've got "Arlington Road" scribe Ehren Kruger, related only to Freddy in name. A budding hotshot and Miramax darling in his own right (his Indian casino heist flick "Reindeer Games," for which he stole the idea from me, is coming later this month from Sir Weinstein and co.), he tries his damnedest to write a "Scream" movie, full of witty asides and knowing wink winks (references are made to keeping the ending of the movie-within-a-movie's ending off of the internet, a fate which lead to "Scream 2's" last second re-tool), but ends up coming off as cheap as the replacement Griswold kids in each of the "Vacation" movies (though sincere props go out to Ethan Embry's Rusty incarnation in "Vegas Vacation").
"Scream 3" is set against a Hollywood backdrop, where "Stab 3: Return to Woodsboro" is being filmed. But life begins to imitate art (who'd've thunk it?) when prominent players in the tragedy of Woodsboro begin to get axed off.
It seems victims are being offed in the same order as they are in the script of "Stab 3," so it's to the set we go with ace reporter Gale Weathers (Courtney Cox, sans the killer red streaks she sported in her hair in "2") in tow. There, she runs into Deputy Dewey (David Arquette), who's left Woodsboro to act as technical advisor on the film, and where he's shacking up with the "Stab" version of Ms. Weathers, played by Parker Posey. In some respects, this whole ordeal is classic "Scream": Arquette, real life husband to Courtney Cox, is living with an actress who's playing the character that they met while filming, while in real life - wait, even I'm getting confused now. You get the picture.
There's also a "Stab" version Sydney Prescott hanging around, played by Emily Mortimer, because the real Syd has retreated to the tranquility of the high hills, where she keeps to herself (and away from everyone who's always trying to murder her) and answers phone calls from abused women. But she's soon called back to society when the bodycount begins to build and - gasp - her help is needed.
Of course, everyone's and everyone's a suspect (even the key grip and best boy!), including all the fresh faces, like disgruntled "Stab 3" director Roman Bridger (Scott Foley), "Stab 3" producer John Milton (Lance Henrickson), who seems to have a past with Sydney Prescott's mother, Hollywood Detective Kincaid (Patrick Dempsey, fresh from "Where Are They Now?"), who himself has a vested interest in the movies, and aging B-movie actress Sarah Darling (Jenny McCarthy), upset over her pathetic role as "the second victim."
All of these characters are thrown together in a "Scream" salad that starts off delightfully with a "Scream"-trademark suspense-filled opening scene. There are a few other decently clever setpieces (like when Syd ends up in the set of her own home chased by the killer), but too often "Scream 3" seems halfheartedly in love with itself and falls into the same horror cliche´s its out to make fun of.
But like in the first two, the killer is painted to be everyone but the actual killer, and it's got so many twists and turns and false realities, etc., that you wouldn't be surprised if the whole thing's real and Wes Craven ends up being the killer.
The fact that he is armed with a really cheesy go-go gadget voice changer (press 1 to talk like Sydney Prescott!) only adds to the lunacy of the goings on.
Midway through, killed-off-in-"Scream 2" videophile Randy (Jamie Kennedy) pops up via video testimonial and alerts us that in the third chapter in a trilogy, all bets are off. It ends up being only a tease, however, as "3" eventually falls into a safe rut, likely pleasing only to test audiences.
Here, director Wes Craven, just coming off last fall's "Music of the Heart," seems too overworked and in search of other vanity projects to thrill us the way he did in "Scream." Bare in mind that this is the director who gave us arguably the most thrilling 15 minutes of cinema in the last decade in the first 15 minutes of "Scream." But bare in mind, too, that he also gave us "Vampire in Brooklyn," and it's clearly this tired Craven that we're watching at work.
"Scream 3" ends with a psuedo-intellectual twist that's more cheap than anything else. It smacks of desperation, like a prize fighter who knows he's knocked out but mounts a weak attempt to stumble to his feet anyway. That's like "Scream 3": unaware of its own miserable defeat.
Rest in peace.