By Rish Outfield
"You are my fire, the one desire; Believe when I say, I want it that way.. ." are the opening lines of the big hit by The Backstreet Boys from 1999. It was a song that lit a match under the hearts of pre-adolescent females everywhere, and irritated the hell out of everyone else under the sun, myself included. Who were these reincarnated New Kids On the Block, where was this dreaded Back Street, and why was there no sanctuary from the incessant refrains of their music?
A year later went by, and I heard the song again. I laughed, I rolled my eyes, I made a comment to my friend about the Crapstreet Boys (yes, I am a brilliant satirist), and then. . .I listened to the rest of the song. And you know what? My toes started tapping, I started to hear the harmony and annoying beat, and I started to wish that I could be a kid again, so it would be alright to like this kind of music.
Not much time passed before I heard the song on the radio, and instead of changing the channel with a speed rarely seen outside of superhero comics, I turned up the volume. I not only liked "I Want It That Way," I loved it. I listened to it every chance I got. I own the song. I just played it. I am a kid again and I like the Backstreet Boys.
And you know what, I don't care who knows.
I've got a similar story to tell about the movie Scream, and my relationship with it. Since you are reading this, it involves you too.
I've been a horror movie fan since before I was old enough to feel sorry for myself. My first memory of going to the movies was a horror film. By the time I was old enough to take myself to the movies, I tried to see nearly every one that came out.
When I heard about Wes Craven's new movie, I was interested. The "Elm Street"s had been my favourite childhood horror series, and I had seen an "Entertainment Tonight" spot on what was then called Scary Movie, and it intrigued me. So when Scream was released, back in December of 1996, I saw it immediately. I dragged my roommate John along, and found it neither spectacular nor terrible. If you had asked me what I thought of the movie, I would've told you, "It was alright." And that was that. Horror movies come and go, and though I have always tried to see them and support my favourite genre, most of them disappear into the night faster than a girl at the end of my prom.
Not long after, I started hearing things. "Scream is the greatest horror movie ever!" "It's clever, hip, and scary!" "Scream is the SHIT!" someone told me. Since when had being referred to as excrement been complimentary? People I didn't respect (and certainly didn't respect the opinions of) began telling me that I HAD to see Scream. It's SOOOOOO scary, I was told. "It's SOOOOOO funny," I was told (actually, I think there were at least two more O's in the scary comment than the funny one. Hmm). "It's got that girl from Party of Five in it!" I was told, as if that were an instant sell.
This kind of deifying of a movie is something that bothers both tyranist and me (usually tyranist a lot more than me, but in the case of Scream, I was the victor), and I hate it when someone tries to shove their beliefs down my throat with the intensity of an EMT and a patient with an obstructed airway. I didn't agree with them and no amount of convincing would change that. Scream was one of those things that, while interesting at a glimpse, was not worth a full look. And definitely not several doubletakes.
The only thing I found original about it was that the characters were like me, having seen more horror films than is healthy, and that there were two killers instead of just one (which struck me as brilliant and efficient, though I later learned that the Hillside Strangler was two people). I also remember thinking it was a good trick naming the killer in Friday the 13th, since even I had an "ohhh, yeah," moment when Casey Becker gets it wrong. But that's about it. Tell ‘em how I described it to you, tyranist.
[tyranist: As poor as my memory is, I distinctly remember begging him to tell me the ending. He had gone on about how clever it was even though it was part of a movie that was way over-hyped. I hadn't seen the movie yet (my fault completely) and so he did. Damn him. I spent my entire first viewing of the movie knowing who did it.]
Thanks.
When it was released on video, my distant, cliquish roommates rented it and invited me to watch. Very hard-up for friendship, I'll admit that I tried, but the Pan & Scan transfer was so awful (ruining one of what I considered to be the few scares in the film), and one of the girls they had on the couch was so irritating, I ended up walking out mid-way through.
At work, one of my co-workers was telling me about a get-together he and his friends were having on Halloween night. They were going to get drunk, run over a couple of trick-or-treaters, see Scream at the local revival house, and play spin the bottle, then ritualistically murder whoever the bottle pointed to. Actually, I made all of that up, except for the part about seeing Scream at the local theater. As fate would have it, I was working on Halloween night, dressed as Roland the Gunslinger, and was feeling even more lonely than ever. I really liked Matt, the guy from work (a pity he was fired a few days later for pilfering the cash register), and secretly hoped he'd invite me to come along. I didn't know what I'd say if he did, I just wanted him to invite me.
Well, he didn't. As his shift ended and he went his merry way, I did a desperate thing: I asked if maybe I could come along. He smiled and told me I was welcome, after all, it was Halloween.
I was amazed. The people who were there loved the movie, they WANTED to be scared, and most of all, they wanted to have fun. Lots of folks brought their friends who never saw Scream the first time around and wanted to share the experience (I had done the same thing at the beginning of the year with the rerelease of the Star Wars Trilogy).
And I don't know what it was. It was a new movie to me. I walked out of the theater thinking that I had spent a very nice Halloween evening, and that I'd check out Scream 2 when it hit theaters in a couple of months.
And I did. One of my buddies who knew I was into horror told me to go out and see it, and that its opening scene had really disturbed him. It wasn't until Christmas Eve that I got to go, dragging my same ole roommate John along. He and I were the only people in the theater (not really a holiday film, I guess), and wow, what a difference a year makes. I LOVED Scream 2. Every little thing that bothered me about the original seemed to be gone, and since I had seen the first one recently, I felt familiar enough with the characters to care what happened to them. And damn, Scream 2 was good, folks.
John and I came out of the theater and we talked about the movie for an hour, large heavy chunks of snow falling silently on us. I talked to him about my love of horror movies, the history I've just recounted with the first movie, and how, as a film student, I had had the "Are There Sequels That Don't Suck?" argument before. We wished each other a Merry Christmas and went our own ways.
The next time I saw the-man-who-would-be-tyranist, I had the same conversation with him, concerning horror movies of my youth, concerning Scream, and concerning the kind of scary movie I would make if I could. He had a much more limited experience with the genre (essentially watching the Friday the 13th movies at a friend's house and seeing bits and pieces of horror on television when his stringent parents weren't guarding it), but he liked Horror and wanted to see more. We made a huge list of horror films we wanted to check out. I bought me a copy of Scream and we watched it together. And this time, it was even better. The next time I saw Scream 2, tyranist was at my side.
Somewhere in our discussions, we came up with the idea of seeing how often horror movies obeyed Randy Meeks' cited rules. We made a brief list of Slasher movie conventions and that summer, decided to keep track of every movie we watched from then on. I think it was tyranist, already involved in computer programming, who suggested we turn it into a website, something that could grow and bother our families.
And we did.
Scream has had a big impact on me. I corrupted my younger siblings with it (or maybe they were already corrupted), reciting phone dialogue with my little sister to the chagrin of my poor mother. I went to film school, holding up Kevin Williamson as a template for the kind of screenwriter I'd like to be. And of course, Scream chaperones tyranist and me whenever we see another horror film.
I love Scream. I think Scream is brilliant. Its dialogue is both clever and simple, and the scenes are both funny and scary. It retains its charm and intelligence no matter how many times I see it or how much I analyze it. The sequels only make the original that much better (which must be the marks of a good sequel, ‘cause I've seen some that make the me want to forget I ever saw the first one), and both are successes in their own right. Scream revitalized the horror genre in the 1990's (and though a lot of what has come since has been pretty bad, bad Horror is a thousand times better than no Horror) and made scary movies cool again.
Most of all, Scream is fun. Fun in the way things were as a kid, fun to the exclusion of things around me (dull, depressing, "important" things, of course).
Well, today I got the big ole costs-more-than-my-soul four DVD Scream Trilogy box set. It's jam-packed with enough deleted scenes, notes, and audio commentaries to keep me away from my "important" obligation for days to come. Instead of watching it, however, which I'm just about dying to do, I decided to sit down and work out my feelings about this movie series and its impact on me.
I've talked to people about certain childhood passions and/or obsessions that they don't share, be it the "Star Wars" movies, religion, "Transformers," football, baseball, comic books, card collecting, certain books, role playing games, and horror movies, and I've run into a lot of people who feel differently than me. They shake their heads in disgust and use the phrase "waste of time" and then go on their way, or compare it unfavorably to whatever diversion they prefer. Sometimes, it's hard to explain an obsession to someone who doesn't share it. The best they can do is look at you and say, "Okay, I may not agree with you, but at least I understand you." I don't expect that reaction from those who don't like horror in general or Scream in particular, but maybe this will be helpful.
And by the way, long live the Backstreet Boys.
Rish Outfield
September 29, 2000