Scream: Typical slice 'n' dice

Scream (2022) • View trailer

2.5 stars (out of five). Rated R, for strong bloody violence, gore, relentless profanity and some sexual references

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 1.14.22

Sigh. Everything old is new again.

 

The Halloween series has risen from the grave repeatedly; 1960’s Psycho was re-imagined as the TV series Bates Motel; and Netflix will debut a re-boot of Texas Chainsaw Massacre next month.

 

With varying levels of interest, skepticism and outright disbelief, the possible next victims
of the ongoing murder spree — from left, Wes (Dylan Minnette), Richie (Jack Quaid),
Sam (Melissa Barrera) and Dewey (David Arquette) — listen while the horrific
situation's "rules" are explained.

Ergo, why not similarly revive Scream?

The first film’s 1996 debut quickly spawned a trilogy that “concluded” four years later. 2011’s Scream 4 attempted — and failed — to breathe new life into the murder sprees occurring in small-town Woodsboro; a three-season television series, from 2015-19, had nothing to do with the franchise beyond borrowing its name.

 

Creator Kevin Williamson’s shrewd “gimmick” — he scripted the first, second and fourth films — is that these characters are well versed in horror films, and speak knowledgably about what one should (and shouldn’t) do, when confronted with a masked killer murder spree.

 

But more often than not, they ignore their own well-researched advice. With predictable results.

 

The movie-obsessed killers, as well, are required to act according to certain genre expectations. Finally, there are three well-established rules:

 

1) Never trust the love interest;

 

2) The killer’s motive always is connected to something in the past; and

 

3) The first victim always belongs to a “friend group” that the killer is part of.

 

As the series progressed, it became increasingly self-referential and meta, with each fresh set of characters (victims) debating the merits (or lack thereof) of a film series — Stab, Stab 2, etc. — that exploits these Woodsboro tragedies. This, in turn, spawns fresh killing sprees by new maniacs concealed behind the Ghostface mask, which prompts further Stab entries. Lather, rinse, repeat.

 

(Honestly, you’d think Woodsboro would have run out of residents by now.)

 

The question, then, is whether this 2022 entry has anything fresh to say. The answer: Slightly yes, mostly no.

In the Heights: The highest high

In the Heights (2021) • View trailer

Five stars. Rated PG-13, for mild profanity and suggestive references

Available via: Movie theaters and HBO Max

By Derrick Bang

Like, wow.

 

The sheer, dazzling exuberance of this film is breathtaking; we’ve rarely (never?) seen this much energy on the big screen.

 

Benny (Corey Hawkins, left) trades quips — and rat-a-tat lyrics — in the impressively
stocked bodega run by Usnavi (Anthony Roberts, right), with assistance from hi
younger cousin Sonny (Gregory Diaz IV).

If you were impressed by the initial freeway dance in La La Land — and who wasn’t? — wait until you experience the opening sequence in this stunner. I’ve never seen so many dance extras in a single number. (Literally hundreds, all named in the end credits.)

Lin-Manuel Miranda’s In the Heights already was a knockout on Broadway, winning four of its 13 Tony Award nominations (including, no kidding, Best Musical). Director Jon M. Chu and choreographer Christopher Scott have done the impossible here, by improving on perfection; they’ve “opened up” the play in a way that takes full advantage of the film medium.

 

When people talk about the cinematic “sense of wonder,” this is the sort of razzmatazz they’re thinking about.

 

In the Heights preceded Miranda’s Hamilton, and in some ways is more approachable and audience-friendly. It’s a bit shorter, and the character palette isn’t nearly as extensive. The interwoven stories are traditional — almost clichéd — but Miranda and co-scripter Quiara Alegría Hudes (who wrote the book for the stage production) make them fresh and vibrant, thanks to Miranda’s freestyle rap/patter/hip-hop musical signature: a style unmistakably his own.

 

Add plenty of salsa, R&B, bachata, merengue and pop — along with other stuff I likely couldn’t identify — and the result is, well, spectacular. Cinematographer Alice Brooks is kept very busy, and she rises to the occasion.

 

It all borders on light opera, but not quite; we do get moments of spoken dialogue in between the two dozen (or so) musical numbers. 

 

Events take place over the course of a few days, in the primarily Dominican neighborhood of New York City’s Washington Heights. Usnavi de la Vega (Anthony Ramos) owns and runs a small bodega, assisted by his younger cousin Sonny (Gregory Diaz IV); the establishment, adjacent to the 181st Street subway stop, is something of a focal point for all the locals, who find a reason to visit at least once a day.

 

Usnavi also narrates this saga, via a framing device set somewhen else, and someplace else — a beach? — while four enthralled young listeners hang onto every word.

 

He has long been sweet on the stunningly gorgeous Vanessa (Melissa Barrera). She works in a neighborhood salon run by the larger-than-life Daniela (Daphne Rubin-Vega), who cheerfully encourages the often racy gossip exchanged among her clientele. Alas, Usnavi lacks the courage to approach Vanessa, who — although friendly — seems oblivious; she dreams of a high-profile career in fashion about 170 blocks south of the Heights.