SCREAM
(1982)
Directed by Byron Quisenberry
Vestron VHS
THE FILM
First viewing attempt: It’s
10:30 pm on a weeknight. I’m
in the mood for a straight up, mindless
80s slasher. Rifling through the
archives, I dig out Scream
from ‘82. Sickle on the front,
girl staring at a bloody machete
on the back. Looks good. Oh, it
opens with some bloody, decapitated
chef statues and a painting of a
sea captain. Interesting. After
twenty minutes of river rafting,
poorly dubbed senior citizens arguing,
and static establishing shots of
ghost-town barns, my eyes start
to droop. Realizing that sleep is
upon me, I take a break from these
peeved tourists.
Second viewing attempt: 12:15 am,
same night. Feeling refreshed, I
decide to gear up for round two.
I mean, the whole film can’t
be all bad, right? I laugh at the
painful music, obviously shanghaied
from some Too Close For Comfort
or Facts Of Life outtakes.
Some people walk around the ghost
town. The camera slowly pans to
different buildings in the ghost
town. A couple of the characters
get knocked off, but we never see
one smidgen of the killer (only
a machete or ax descending, etc.).
There’s a tiny bit of blood.
People speak without the movement
of lips. Birds chirp at night and
we view some more barn doors. I
fall into a beautiful, drooling
sleep, awakened only by the stopping
of the VHS tape. I crawl into bed.
This never happens.
Third viewing attempt: 5 pm, next
day. Success! After rewinding the
tape to the hour mark, I manage
to make it through. I discover two
dudes on motorcycles and a ghostly
man that arrives on horseback. He
says he’s a sailor and all
of the characters pow-wow with him
as he lights a pipe. The killer
breaks a mirror -- “Damn,
that son of a bitch is crazy.”
More bloodless killings occur, mostly
off-screen. The killer is never
visually revealed and might be a
ghost. Roll credits.
What? Wow. Scream is so
terribly misguided and incompetent
that I stand slackjawed. I’d
relate the experience to staring
at a bowl of cornflakes for 80 minutes,
but that still doesn’t do
it. Out of all the trash I’ve
lovingly experienced, I’ve
never seen a film this oddly composed;
focusing on inanimate objects more
than actors, relating exactly zilch
to the viewer regarding what’s
going on, and an expert use of awkward
tracking shots featuring...nothing.
Not even the “comic”
fat guy in overalls knew what was
going on. Is there hope for any
of us? Final
Exam, move over. There’s
a new worst-slasher-of-all-time
in the building.
AUDIO AND VIDEO
A little dark in the print realm,
but overall, pretty clear and not
too bad. Some of the dubbed sound
effects, screams, and “hub-bub”
are way too loud. Turn ‘em
down, Byron (or whatever your real
name is)!
EXTRAS
An over-the-top slice of 80s glitz
with the laser-inflicited Vestron
logo.
FINAL THOUGHTS
Scream is an awful film
right of passage. Sure, there’s
laughs to be had, but the sheer
lack of common sense on display
throughout this film is shocking.
Neve Campbell aficionados should
steer clear. Seasoned vets of trash,
give it a look, just for kicks.
— Joseph A. Ziemba, 08.20.04 |
Mr. Quisenberry, I presume?
Get used to it
Foot shot = dead
Token you-know-who
|
