Scream VI

There is a specific, prickly kind of anxiety that comes with watching a slasher movie set in a crowd. We’re used to the isolated cabins and the quiet suburban streets where a scream carries for miles, but Scream VI decides to drop us into the middle of Manhattan, where a scream is just another Tuesday afternoon soundtrack. I remember sitting in the theater, watching that now-iconic subway sequence where a dozen different Ghostfaces are staring back at our protagonists through the flickering lights of a commuter train. I watched this on a Tuesday night while my apartment’s ancient radiator was clanking like a disgruntled poltergeist, which actually added a nice layer of practical sound effects to the tension of the film’s opening act.

Concrete Jungle Dreams (and Nightmares)

Moving the franchise out of Woodsboro was a gamble, but directors Tyler Gillett and Matt Bettinelli-Olpin (the "Radio Silence" duo who previously gave us the excellent Ready or Not) understood that the environment needed to be as much of a threat as the knife. By relocating the "Core Four" survivors to New York City, the film taps into a very contemporary sense of urban paranoia. There’s a sequence in a bodega early on that completely reset my expectations for what a Ghostface could be. Seeing the masked killer snatch a shotgun out of a clerk’s hands and use it without hesitation was a shock to the system. Ghostface wielding a shotgun is the 'jumping the shark' moment that somehow actually works because it’s just so incredibly rude. It signaled that the rules had indeed changed; this wasn't just a meta-commentary on horror movies anymore; it was an urban survival thriller.

The cinematography by Brett Jutkiewicz makes excellent use of the verticality of New York (even if most of it was actually filmed in Montreal). Whether it’s a terrifying ladder climb between apartment windows or the claustrophobia of a packed subway car, the film feels expansive yet suffocating. It captures that feeling of being surrounded by millions of people and realizing that none of them are going to help you.

The "Core Four" and the Neve-Sized Hole

The biggest conversation surrounding this release wasn't about the plot, but about who wasn't in it. For the first time in the franchise’s history, Neve Campbell didn't return as Sidney Prescott due to a high-profile salary dispute. In the era of franchise dominance and legacy sequels, this felt like a potential death knell. How do you have Scream without Sidney?

Surprisingly, the film thrives by leaning on its new generation. Melissa Barrera returns as Sam Carpenter, and while some critics found her "wooden" in the 2022 entry, I think she really finds her footing here. She’s playing a woman who is terrified of her own shadow—or rather, her own lineage as the daughter of Billy Loomis—and she brings a jagged, desperate energy to the fight scenes. Jenna Ortega, fresh off her massive success with Wednesday, plays her sister Tara with a perfect balance of vulnerability and "done with this" attitude. Together with Jasmin Savoy Brown (Mindy) and Mason Gooding (Chad), they form the "Core Four." The chemistry between these four feels genuine, which is vital because, in a slasher, you actually have to care if they get turned into Swiss cheese. Jasmin Savoy Brown in particular is a delight, delivering the mandatory "meta" explanation of the film’s rules with a charisma that makes you forget you’re listening to an info-dump.

A Shrine to the Past

For the hardcore fans and collectors, the "Ghostface Shrine" in the third act is a literal museum of franchise history. It’s a clever way to include the legacy of the previous films without feeling like a cheap clip show. Seeing the tattered robes of past killers and the various weapons used throughout the series served as a great reminder of how long this "IP" has been running. The screenplay by James Vanderbilt and Guy Busick navigates the "franchise" rules—where anyone, including the protagonist, is expendable—with a wink and a nudge, but they never forget to keep the stakes high.

The score by Brian Tyler (who also did the heavy lifting for the Fast & Furious franchise) leans into the aggressive nature of this sequel. It’s loud, percussive, and relentless. It mirrors the way Roger L. Jackson delivers 'The Voice' this time around—he sounds angrier, more impatient, and far more dangerous than the playful cat-and-mouse caller of the 90s.

While the "whodunnit" reveal in the finale might be the weakest part of the film—the logic of the final reveal is held together by scotch tape and prayer, but the ride there is so fast you barely notice the engine smoking—the journey is immensely satisfying. It’s a film that understands its place in 2023: a world of social media obsession, true crime fandom, and the crushing weight of legacy. It managed to pull in $168 million on a $35 million budget, proving that even in an era of franchise fatigue, a well-executed slasher with a clear identity can still cut through the noise.

Scream VI is a rare sequel that manages to feel both like a warm hug for long-time fans and a violent shove into the future. It proves that the franchise doesn't need to stay in the suburbs to remain relevant, and it anchors its bloody spectacle in a set of characters that I’m actually rooting for. If this is the new standard for the "legacy sequel" era, then I’m more than happy to keep picking up the phone whenever Ghostface calls. Just maybe don't answer it if you're on the L train.