The year is 1997. It’s been six years since Twin Peaks has gone off the air, but its influence is still present. There’s a string of shows and very special episodes with a little Lynch flair. Remember The X-Files? Yeah, me neither.
Anyway, the year is 1997. Full House has finally finished it’s traumatic eight-season run, and America will never be the same again. Thanks to a relentless syndication deal and a completely unnecessary Netflix reboot, we as a culture will never forget and never recover. John Stamos’ greasy hair, hokey catchphrases, that Canadian piece of toast who dated Alanis Morissette, more hokey catchphrases, the Olsen twins, and even more hokey catchphrases. The entire show was just an endless string of one-liners, laugh tracks, and zingers with no spice. The only saving grace is Aunt Becky, who went to prison because she bribed her kid’s way into Stanford. I honestly can’t think of anything whiter—it’s somehow even whiter than Full House.
But like I said, the year is 1997. Candace Cameron is trying to transition into serious, dramatic roles. She has been starring in a long run of made-for-TV thrillers with juicy titles like No One Would Tell, She Cried No, and Sharon’s Secret. NightScream is one of them.
Laura, the darling of a small seaside town, has been murdered. Her prominent family grieves. Suddenly, Laura comes back into town. Only everyone is confused—mom, stepdad, sheriff, random hardware store guy. Even Laura’s confused. You see, Laura is not actually Laura. Laura is actually Drew, but she thinks she’s Laura. Sometimes. Drew has bursts of memories that don’t seem to belong to herself, and she has nightmares where Laura is found dead in a car and a mysterious man is shot in the back. But whodunit? Now everyone wants to know, who killed Laura . . . Fairchild?
Every time a memory gets triggered, Drew turns into Laura and the camera begins floating above her and sailing across the scene. Wolves howl, hawks screech, and the orchestra swoons. The photography turns dreamy, smeary, and navy blue. There’s a dreamy chase through the deserted woods. Is Drew possessed? How does she seem to know things only Laura knows? Now Drew is trying to solve Laura’s murder, all while occasionally slipping into Laura’s sordid memories.
NightScream is a classic TV thriller that’d fit somewhere between the Hallmark Channel and Lifetime in 1997. The acting is big, the cliffhangers are bigger, and the drama is turned up to the level of Days of Our Lives, which is to say real high. There’s a nosy journalist, a greedy landowner, and a really crappy boyfriend. The plot, melodrama, and surreal dream sequences are pages ripped savagely from the Twin Peaks playbook. There’s even a Chris Isaak rip-off closing theme. Wicked game indeed.
The cast is premium television: Teri Garr, Casper Van Dien (Starship Troopers), and of course Candace Cameron. Pretty much every supporting actor has a very, very long string of TV appearances. In fact, if you turn on the TV right now, you’ll probably see someone who was in NightScream. Everyone’s face is vaguely familiar because they played that one guy on that one show. Except Teri Garr. She rules. And she’s sorely underused in this whole operation. So while Garr is pushed unfairly to the sidelines, Candace Cameron is doing her level best trying to convince us she’s not DJ Tanner. It’s not working, but I don’t care because NightScream is entertaining TV trash, the kind of stuff you’d watch when you were home from school because of strep. It’s a microwavable popcorn classic.
Like most made-for-TV thrillers, NightScream is light on violence but heavy on histrionics. There’s a whole lot of talking—and I mean a lot—but that’s precisely where the trashy joy lies. Obviously, NightScream is far more entertaining than Full House. But I fully admit it’s a lot less entertaining than Lori Loughlin’s legal battles.
