Scream 5?

This Friday is the premiere of Scream 4, the fourth installment of Wes Craven’s self-reflexive meta-horror franchise that gave Neve Campbell a reason to dream after Po5 got canceled (and inspired the creepy mismatched romance between Courtney Cox and David Arquette).

When I saw the trailer for the first time, I thought it was one of those SNL parodies, and had a good ol’ chuckle. When I saw the subway posters, I kind of threw up in my mouth a little bit.

Guys, the last Scream movie came out in 2000! 11 years ago! I know you gotta space things out to avoid overload ), but this is a bit ridiculous. The first film came out in 1996; the second appeared in 1997. Scream 3 came out in 2000, and even that was pushing it (a movie about the making of a movie based on the events of a previous movie?—Kevin Williamson, get over yourself). And now, 11 years later, they're coming back with the same look like the dude at your high school reunion who you used to think was hot and is still wearing his letter jacket--it's sad. For those of you who didn't go to suburban high school, think of it this way: it's like a baby whose parents call it "our little surprise," when they really want to call it an “IUD fail”.

Guys, the last film in the series came out before 9/11. The climate has changed, the world in which Sidney Prescott was born is not the same world that wants her back.

Don’t get me wrong—I loved me some Scream. That Matthew Lillard was a real hottie (what happened to him?), and Rose McGowan’s desperate attempt to avoid death through a doggy door left me riveted. But that was in 1996, when Dawson’s Creek provided a guide to living, and prayed each night that my braces would come off early. Besides, isn’t Neve Campbell, much like retirement-ready Detective Murtaugh, getting too old for this shit?

At this rate, what would Scream 5 be like?

I’m glad you asked! Here’s a treatment I’m working on. (Rumor has it Kevin Williamson and Wes Craven are in a feud, so I’m hoping to strike while the irons aren’t speaking to each other!)

The year is 2034

A bloated Sidney Prescott, now 57 years old, sits in boardroom with a lawyer by her side, facing her soon-to-be ex-husband (played by a haggard Pierce Brosnan). He and his counsel whisper quietly. Sidney takes a sip from a tumbler of gin. Her skin is wrinkly, sallow, and her teeth are yellowed from years of nicotine. James Beekman, her husband’s attorney, demands millions of dollars (which Sidney earned speaking at women’s shelters around the world), citing his wife’s emotional torment throughout their marriage. Sidney’s never been able to really love a man—and she’s never been able to sit in a movie theater or stand near a window after dark. Loving her was—at first—easy cause she was beautiful, and then it became impossible because she was crazy.

Sidney and her lawyer exchange a look. As she prepares to speak, a cellphone on the table vibrates, causing her to seize in terror. Sidney becomes a whirling dervish, all fists and elbows, attacking everyone in sight. She looks down at the bloodied bodies left on the boardroom floor. She grabs a phone and dials a number from memory.

“Gale, it’s me, Sid. I need you, baby.”

Cut to the exterior of the building. Gale Weathers drives up in a minivan, and flings her skeletal legs out of the vehicle. She hobbles over to Sidney, who’s chain smoking by a potted fern. She runs to Gale and hugs her tight, with class Neve Campbell tears streaming down her face, and her upper lip all snotty.

“It’s okay,” Gale whispers. “It’s okay.”

Blaxploitation

I am so not feeling the plantation today. I think I’m still holding bitterness from yesterday, when I had to come in during a snowstorm even though both the massa and the overseer were out. In silent protest, I spent much of the day quietly grading film papers as part of my side hustle. For some reason, my coworker’s nit-picking and anal nature has been getting on my last nerve. He’s all “focused,” with an “attention to detail,” and “the desire to do his job.”
Ew.
I woke up yesterday and shoveled snow before coming to work. This is BHM, y’all—I should NOT be so oppressed. This is blaxploitation at its best (or worst, depending on your point of view). After reading a paper on “Point of View Shots in Aladdin” (Yes, Disney’s Aladdin.I swear, these kids never cease to amaze me), I thought I was seriously being punk’d.
I ended up leaving work early, as the pretense of productivity became too much to maintain. I at least gave my email a look-see from my home computer, just in case massa was watching me electronically.

I am so being blaxploited.
Speaking, of blaxploitation, why not celebrate BHM today with a trailer from one of my favorite blaxplotation films—BLACULA.

I own this film on VHS.
Yep, I said it.
And no, it wasn’t purchased ironically in 2008. I had to beg my mother to give me her copy back in, like, 1998, and she made a big deal out of how hard it was to find and how I better not lose it.
My family is very serious about black cinema.
You should be, too:



I think my favorite line of the trailer is “Blacula….Dracula’s soul brother”


I’d like to make a third one (oh, yes, there’s already a sequel, Scream Blacula, Scream), starring myself as Blacula’s love interest. It’ll be called:
Blacula Meets Blacktress: Black Love 4-Eva
Maybe we can get a crossover with the Twilight kids, maybe get sparkly Pattinson to have a crush on me and fight Blacula to the death for my love?

Let’s get this into production, people!