The Chaotic and Complicated Joy of Being a 'Scream' Fan in 2026

Scream is the Mission: Impossible of horror franchises in terms of consistency and endurance. (Both also turn 30 this year). You can rank the films however you want; each has its own enjoyable qualities while holding out for its heroes decade after decade. 

However, there has been a lot of cautious optimism––more so than ever––leading up to the latest entry of the slasher franchise that started in 1996 when Wes Craven helmed a genre-skewering script written by Kevin Williamson, who's now in the director's chair. 

A lot has been riding on Scream 7, especially after the series gained momentum with the last two films and then hit so many roadblocks to get where it is today. And where is that? Striving for continued relevance in a culture that is constantly testing how far a fandom will follow a franchise. (I'll get to my thoughts on the new movie later.)

There's been reasonable speculation on how much is left in the creative tank (*raises hand*). There have been accusations of "nostalgia bait." There are fans who feel understandably burned by how this new movie was developed from its originally planned story. There are groups who have a bone to pick with Paramount (mostly over Neve Campbell's salary negotiations for Scream VI) and lots to say about how Spyglass Media Group, the production company that took over the reins in 2022, handled the firing of Melissa Barrera after Scream VI.

Much like America itself, the Scream fandom has become divided, increasing its risk of becoming more toxic than ever, a theme that appeared in the fifth movie. (One could only imagine what Ritchie and Amber would say about the evolution of this franchise, especially after seeing Scream 7.)

All that said, being a Scream fan these days can be exhausting. 

I was there in theaters for the 1996 original, and I was there again, 30 years later, for the seventh. I did my duty. I demonstrated my loyalty to the brand (I got the collectible Ghostface cup to prove it). I've realized, as I've gotten older, that this franchise is one of the few I'm most passionate about because of the impact it originally had on me in the '90s, with its groundbreaking approach to my favorite genre, and how it subsequently sustained that passion with its carefully produced sequels throughout the years. 

I know I'm not alone on this. 

The Scream movies, unlike some horror franchises, transformed into a huge pop phenomenon, must-watch events with substantial box office receipts to flaunt. To compare: It took eight years to pump out seven Friday the 13ths back in the '80s while it took three decades to produce the same amount of Screams. If F13 is cinematic junk food you can't resist, Scream is a five-course meal you want to savor with every bite. 

Sure, call me a die-hard fan, but with this label comes a responsibility and a choice: to either follow blindly, regardless of the quality or faults of a current film, and defend it with your life while hoping for more and more sequels for never-ending consumption––OR keep following and have an honest conversation about the current state of the franchise with fair, thoughtful criticisms of the current film (while still enjoying it in some capacity) because you ultimately care about the entire series so much. I fall under the latter. 

A long-running film franchise inherently demands reinvention along the way, something new and innovative to be infused into each narrative––to keep it fresh, to keep audiences coming back for more. However, blind loyalty tends to make some die-hard fans (me included) lose focus on the fact that, with each film, you risk moving further and further away from the very essence of what made you fall in love with the franchise in the first place. It happens to the best of franchises. It's inevitable. 

And, for me, this was resoundingly proven true with Scream 7. 

By now, you already know the set-up for this one: our beloved Sidney Prescott is now living in peaceful Pine Grove with her police chief hubby Mark (Joel McHale), running a quaint coffee shop while butting heads with her 17-year-old daughter, Tatum (Isabel May), who wants her mom to open up more about her traumatic past. Someone soon slips on a Ghostface mask and starts slicing and dicing (and impaling) Tatum's friends. Gale Weathers (Courteney Cox) arrives from New York with the Meeks-Martin twins, and the troops are rounded up to solve the mystery. 

First of all, Scream 7 has the distinction of being the first film in the franchise with no significant commentary on movies––or any clear thesis really––maybe because less and less people are going to the movies? This is 2026, after all. The Stab franchise is referenced, of course, but that's about it.

The word "nostalgia" is mentioned once or twice, and that could very well be the theme of the movie. Several callbacks to the original are made, attempting to make audiences feel warm and fuzzy about the original Sidney Saga, but some of these homages are just repeats from previous sequels. (I will say, though, there is a missed opportunity involving Tatum 2.0 inside a garage in the final act.)

The movie opens with its requisite kill scene, but we've now moved away from Scream's own trope of murdering a well-recognized actor in those first ten minutes. The prologue goes to "burn it all down," like the poster's tagline suggests, setting Stu Macher's old house ablaze after our first two victims meet the pointy end of Ghostface's blade. A promising start. 

Next, the end of the first act does something shockingly novel with Ghostface, allowing Gale Weathers to storm back into Sidney's life. The sequence is the most inspired one of the movie. 

How are the kills? Pretty good, especially a notable one involving a beer tap. But this is where the negatives of the movie start outweighing the positives for me––a first for any Scream film.

Scream 7 also has the unfortunate distinction of collapsing under the weight of its own casting announcements. Long before the movie hit theaters, it was made known that former cast members like Matthew Lillard, David Arquette, and Scott Foley joined the production under mysterious circumstances. This fanned the flames of fan speculation. And the result? A lazily executed plot point that confirms some fan theories about technology while stealing a lot of thunder from voice actor Roger Jackson. The stunt casting and publicity now feel like a blatant ploy to generate fan frenzy and possibly compensate for a project in which the movie studio was losing confidence. 

Earlier this year, I read Your Favorite Scary Movie: How the Scream Films Rewrote the Rules of Horror, Ashley Cullins's comprehensive and insightful retrospective on the franchise, while revisiting some of the earlier movies. It renewed my appreciation for Wes Craven and how he directed the first four films. The directing team of Radio Silence tried to emulate his style in 2022's requel, and their attempt was successful (and appreciated). But this time around, that dynamic flair in the visual language and pacing is lacking. 

The intentions behind this movie may have been good, but that doesn't necessarily make it a good movie. We fans can rejoice seeing Sidney Prescott return to the spotlight for a new story, but we can also be disappointed by how that story doesn't come close to the high standards this franchise has set for itself. 

That said, the script is the weakest in the series, with some glaring holes in logistics (apparently characters don't know how to dial 9-1-1 anymore), new supporting characters who barely make a blip, and a killer reveal and motive that is going down as the most unimaginative in the franchise's history. And given the roadblocks and turmoil this movie went through to get made, I feel my cautious optimism was justified. Scream 7 feels like the Plan C to a Plan B for a Plan A that could never be. 

Scream and its sequels were always about deconstructing the horror genre, but at this point, its DNA appears to have mutated, prioritizing a brand over commentary, which, ironically, had been part of its brand. And when you prioritize the brand without offering anything else, you risk becoming just another piece of content with the purpose of filling up a streamer’s library. 

And that's why I have such complicated and confusing feelings about Scream 7. What was once a smart satire of horror tropes has turned into a checklist of those tropes, and in this transformation, something has been lost. I never felt this way about a Scream movie until now, and it pains me to write all this. 

In the end, maybe the real meta argument of Scream 7 is about us, the audience. Maybe it knows we’ll follow the franchise to the ends of the earth (or to a sleepy town like Pine Grove). Maybe it knows we’ll consume whatever it feeds us. Maybe this time, it's subverting its own tropes and our expectations by giving us, for once, an installment that edges us with preposterous fan theories but then feels shoddily put together for the sake of the almighty dollar––and contractual obligations.

Then again, that would give the filmmakers and studio a lot of credit. And they seem to be running low on it these days. 

@TheFirstEcho