Scream 7 (2026)
Perhaps there will come a time when we can discuss "Scream 7" only within the context of being another sequel in a long-running franchise. Unfortunately, the circumstances around its production are impossible to ignore. How Michelle Barrera, the star of the last two entries, was fired after making pro-Palestine statements. How this led to an entire retooling of the next installment. How director Christopher Landon boarded the project and quickly left, amid harassment from fans. Whether it was even moral to go see the film was hotly debated in the months leading up to its release. With no other ideas on how to continue the story, I guess, series creator and now director Kevin Williamson went with the creatively bankrupt decision of focusing on Neve Campbell's Sidney. Simply put, "Scream 7" is a movie that shouldn't exist beyond the general reasons yet another slasher sequel probably shouldn't be made. None of this controversy stopped "Scream 7" from becoming the highest grossing title in the series' history. While all the bullshit had me skipping the film in theaters this past February, my dorky need to watch and review the entirety of a horror series has led me to finally judging "Scream 7" for myself. (And if you must know, I didn't pay to watch it, meaning the producers received no monetary gain from my viewing.)
After years of being pursued by Halloween costume clad killers, the former Sidney Prescott has settled in Pine Grove, Indiana. She is now married to a cop named Mark and works at a local coffee shop. They have three kids, with teenage Tatum being the oldest. Despite having moved on, Sidney's history has led to tension between her and her daughter. This gets a lot worst when Sidney receives a video call seemingly from Stu Macher, one of the original Ghostfaces whose final fate has long been uncertain. Two of Tatum's friends are attacked and killed by a masked murderer at her school. After the town goes into lock down, a Ghostface sneaks into Sidney's home and attacks her and her family. Gale Weathers soon arrives in town, with "Scream VI" survivors Mindy and Chad in tow, to report on the breaking story. Sidney works with her old friend/rival to unravel this latest mystery and keep her daughter safe. Meanwhile, rebellious Tatum and her own friend group decide to take matters into their own hands.
Aside from Ghostface's victims, another casualty of "Scream VI" was my interest in this series. It seems to me that, for quite some time now, "Scream" has been a series in search of a defining thesis. The original film is a deconstruction of the cliches of the eighties slasher movie. The second one does the same for the expectations around a slasher sequel, a phenomenon in its own right. Rather than evolve with the the times and take on whatever the current trend in horror was at any given moment, the later "Scream" movies have been content to simply eat their own tail. "Scream 3" was about nothing but "Scream's" own self-reflective nature. This was also true of "Scream 4," which gave some passing mentions to the found footage genre before inexplicably revealing itself to be about reality TV. While the fifth "Scream" found some relevance in discussing reboots and legacy sequels, while nodding at the "elevated" horror style, it wasn't about examining horror tropes and their relationship with the real world either. It was about "Star Wars" actually. The sixth film represented the series at its most self-indulgent yet. With the behind-the-scenes kerfuffle shifting seven's focus back to Sidney Prescott, there was almost zero chance of "Scream 7" on focusing anything other than the series' own backstory and unearned sense of self-importance.
Well, I have some good news. "Scream 7" isn't another "Scream" movie about "Scream." Compared to sixth's masturbatory fixation on referencing past films, this one has fewer shout-outs. Unfortunately, "Scream 7" is also not a continuation of the original's premise of examining slasher stereotypes and the debatable effects fiction has on the real world. There's almost no mention of the "rules" or audience expectations, much less any mention of what is or isn't currently hot in the horror genre. All of which begs the question of what "Scream 7" is about. Well, I'm not sure it's about anything. However, that ever-present cultural boogeyman of "trauma" is mentioned. That Sidney's lingering scars from years of being targeted by serial killers might have had some effects on her own kids is brought up. This mostly manifests in limp arguments between our heroine and a typically temperamental teenager. Tatum resents living her life in the shadow of her mom's pain, which includes being named for the friend who had an unfortunate run-in with a garage door opener back in 1996. Generational trauma is certainly an idea worth discussing, especially as we millennials start to reach the same age our parents were when these movies first started getting made. However, I don't think the esteemed director of "Teaching Mrs. Tingle" has any interesting insight on this idea. The mother/daughter conflict in "Scream 7" mostly feels like petulant whining from Tatum.
Instead, the only interesting idea inside the sequel revolves a lingering fear every parent has: That they can't protect their kids. Sidney has moved away from Woodsboro, stopped writing books about her life and disconnected from the true crime world. Neither that, nor marrying a cop or building a safe room in her house, does much to protect her daughter from the latest Ghostface. The only time the seventh film comes to life is when Sidney is desperately racing to the coffee shop, to save Tatum. Via an app in her phone, she can access the security cameras at the business. This is how she sees her daughter being stalked by a killer, while trying to talk her through it in a call. This recalls parents helplessly watching as news trickles in about a shooter at their kids' school, unable to do anything but watch or listen through phones and cameras. That's at least a reflection of our current world. "Scream 7" stubbornly resists developing this into coherent commentary. Instead, it merely exists alongside other indicators of modern anxiety, such as AI or the fear that your daughter's boyfriend might be a future mass shooter.
"Scream 7" is uninterested in reinventing the wheel. The sequel seems to address, and hopefully bury, the incredibly dumb fan theory that Stu Macher somehow survived getting a big ass CRT TV dropped on his head thirty years ago. (While still bringing Matthew Lillard back for an easy pop from the fans.) That's in addition to a largely disconnected opening that sees the Macher house now having become a tacky tourist trap. Which could have been a commentary on the commodification of true crime or how all popular series are wrung out for every dollar until they are a pale imitation of themselves. Williamson doesn't do that either. The eventual reveal of who the Ghostfaces are this time, and the motivation for their murder spree, is somehow the least inspired element of the film, a thrown together twist that is delivered like a half-hearted sigh.
This is the biggest problem with "Scream 7." At no point can it justify its own existence. I did not find myself caring about any of the new characters or cast members. Joel McHale is Sidney's husband and he shares some okay chemistry with Campbell. The script frustratingly leaves little room fie McHale's trademark sarcasm. Isabela May is mildly irritating but mostly uninteresting as Tatum, a mildly irritating but mostly uninteresting character. Most of her friends are of little note. The true crime fanatic next door or the boyfriend of debatable merit are nothing but obvious red herrings. Rising scream queen McKenna Grace shows some spark as Tatum's BFF but let's just say she exits the film early. The lack of energy behind the new cast would be somewhat forgivable if the script also wasn't so out of ideas of what to do with the old cast too. As has been the case since the third movie, Neve Campbell seems deeply bored with this character and her world. There's an attempt to build something between Sidney and Gale Weathers' relationship. Courtney Cox does what she can but you can't play off a brick wall much. When the film trots out a few more familiar faces, it feels like nothing more than a desperate attempt to spark another burst of dopamine from the dying, overstimulated synapses of an aging fan base by jingling familiar keys in front of our eyes.
That a sense of franchise fatigue floats over all of "Scream 7" is disappointing. When taken as a simple slasher flick, it's at least got the required amount of gruel and grimness. Much like the sixth flick, there are some well engineered set pieces. The sequel is adapt at putting its characters in unfortunate situations. A young lady is suspended in a Peter Pan rig in a school auditorium while Ghostface lurks below. A cool shot sees the slow reveal of the killer's hiding place within Sidney's home. This proceeds a decently suspenseful sequence where the two final girls have to squeeze through a hollow wall while the attacker on the other side tries to pinpoint their location. That's a good demonstration of the laws of suspense, in showing the audience something the characters may or may not have figured out yet. A stalk-and-slash through the cramped kitchen of a bar, a plastic filled garage under repairs, a dangling from a chandelier, or the aforementioned coffee shop stand-off aren't bad either. You can tell Williamson studied Carpenter's "Halloween," as he emulates the trick of the villain's distinctive white mask slowly appearing in the shadows over someone's shoulders. From a gore hound's perspective, there's one or two amusing butcherings. A beer tap is used creatively.
All of this implies that "Scream 7" might have been able to generate some suspense or more than a fleeting sense of same-old-same-old entertainment, if these sequences were attached to something other than a contractually obligated continuation. Instead, these scenes occur within a film with zero fresh or interesting ideas of how to stretch this story out for a seventh entry, anchored by a cast with little personality or desire to be there. The film made plenty of money, meaning an eighth installment is all but guaranteed. Such box office results suggest that the team behind "Scream" has no reason to give this series the drastic reinvention it obviously needs. I imagine Barrera will probably get invited back in time, that her storyline will continue in some form or fashion. However, if "Scream 7's" quality is anything to go by, I can't imagine a Sidney or Carpenter sisters-led future for "Scream" that has any actual guts or hot blood pumping through it. [5/10]
Lokis: A Manuscript of Professor Wittembach (1970)
Lokis. Rekopis profesora Wittembacha
The idea of a short story that goes on a bit too much to be called "short" or a novel that maybe lacks a few hundred words feel like concepts as old as literary classifications are. However, the term "novella" actually was invented in 1829. By a Frenchman, of course, sticklers for detail that they are. Prosper Mérimée coined the term and this guy's Wikipedia article is wild, man. Best known today for the story that inspired the opera "Carmen," Mérimée was a real Renaissance man in his day. An influential figure in the Romanticism movement, he was also an archivist, an archeologist, the Inspector-General of Historical Monuments, a folklorist, a translator, a prisoner, a senator, the official advisor to the Empress of Napoleon III, and a catty bitch who loved to start beef with his fellow authors and bureaucrats. He also wrote horror stories sometimes, among which was "Lokis. A Manuscript of Professor Wittembach." Set in Lithuania and inspired by its local legends, the novella was adapted to film in Poland in 1970, by director Janusz Majewski. Since its inclusion in the big folk horror box set a few years back, the film has gained a lot more attention.
The titular Professor Wittembach is a pastor and writer. He travels to Lithuania to study local folk customs and translate the Bible into Samogitian, an obscure dialect of the region. He is invited to the estate of Count Szemiot, whose library includes many useful old texts. The Count is eccentric, with a history of madness in his family. The family physician, Dr. Froeber, informs Wittembach that the Count's mother went insane following a bear attack, believing her son to be the offspring of the same animal. The professor officiates the Count's marriage to a beautiful young maiden but bad omens persist over the castle. Might Szemiot actually be a were-bear or is he merely a victim of his own beliefs?
Most of the Polish horror and fantasy films I've seen so far have been on the artsier side of the spectrum, usually with a heavy political bent. This remains true with "Lokis." (The title, by the way, is a misspelling of the Lithuanian word for bear.) The film seems especially concerned with the separation between man and beast, which the pastor clarifies as a distinction between our higher, spiritual calling and our more bestial nature. Usually, when were-beast movies delve into this, it's about savagery and sex. "Lokis" touches on that a little bit. The count's backstory seems to link the bear with unleashed sexual frenzy and the story comes to its climax on his wedding night. However, Majewski and his team approach the subject from a sociopolitical angle. "Lokis" frequently contrasts the nobility, and its interest in academics, with the peasantry, who are a more superstitious lot. One of the first scenes is Wittembach and some elegant ladies watching, from a train, a street performance with a bear. This sets up a distance between the haves and have-nots. While the film ostensibly adopts the more "high-minded," scientific perspective of the upper crust, this is a world fairly unambiguously at the mercy of otherworldly forces. For all its pomp and circumstances, the ruling class is as governed as much by animal desires and the whims of the hidden world as those they preside over.
“Lokis” was made three years before “The Wicker Man” but bares some resemblance to that watershed moment in folk horror history. Both films concern a Christian authority figure, quite secure in his monotheistic viewpoint of the world, being continuously challenged by pagan beliefs and rituals. Matching the more intellectual tone of the film, “Lokis” has Wittembach's understanding of a world governed by a logical God at odds with the otherworldly events he witnesses. A carriage driver warns him of the devils that haunt the forest. Only to have a wheel pulled right off their vehicle, the supernatural forces seemingly proving their own presence. Later, the pastor and the count encounter a self-styled witch in the woods. She comes across as merely an eccentric old woman at first before walking across the moss covered surface of a river as if it's a solid object. “Lokis” slots in nicely with the political and spiritual upheaval of the early seventies, when traditional structures were falling apart and a different, more daemon-haunted world was presenting itself.
All of that probably sounds pretty interesting. And it kind of is, if you're into European folklore. Unfortunately, Majewski's film is almost unbearably slow. “Lokis” is a motion picture composed almost entirely of men standing around in stately rooms and talking to each other. When the back story of the Count's mother possibly having been assaulted by an ursine is delivered, it plays out as a conversation over some paintings and books. The climatic moment of the film occurs entirely off-screen. All of this is delivered with a stilted, mannered approach. The movie can summon a certain dreamy energy in its best moments, such as the sequence with the witch. The score ramps up a few times, to get the heart pumping. However, nothing much actually seems to happen. “Lokis” is a horror movie in theory but everything sinister is implied, not shown. Don't go in expecting any were-bear chaos occurring on-screen, is what I'm saying.
That glacial pacing does seem to divide viewers of “Lokis.” I've seen some enthusiastic reviews of it, from people fully sucked into its folkloric dreaminess and not too bothered by the slowness. However, others have been seriously let down by how the movie focuses on ideas and ambiance over anything else at all. It's a nice looking film, with strong cinematography and eye-catching visuals. The settings, of a forest with sheltering branches and the strange looking castle, do make for a suitably surreal location. Ultimately though, I found myself fighting sleep before the relatively short runtime wound up. Maybe you'll find it a bit more compelling but, despite some interesting sights and more interesting ideas, “Lokis” was sabotaged for me by a plodding pace. The film did intrigued me enough to add the original novel to my reading list, though that might also be because Propser Mérimée's life story caught my eye too. [5/10]
Lokis. Rekopis profesora Wittembacha
The idea of a short story that goes on a bit too much to be called "short" or a novel that maybe lacks a few hundred words feel like concepts as old as literary classifications are. However, the term "novella" actually was invented in 1829. By a Frenchman, of course, sticklers for detail that they are. Prosper Mérimée coined the term and this guy's Wikipedia article is wild, man. Best known today for the story that inspired the opera "Carmen," Mérimée was a real Renaissance man in his day. An influential figure in the Romanticism movement, he was also an archivist, an archeologist, the Inspector-General of Historical Monuments, a folklorist, a translator, a prisoner, a senator, the official advisor to the Empress of Napoleon III, and a catty bitch who loved to start beef with his fellow authors and bureaucrats. He also wrote horror stories sometimes, among which was "Lokis. A Manuscript of Professor Wittembach." Set in Lithuania and inspired by its local legends, the novella was adapted to film in Poland in 1970, by director Janusz Majewski. Since its inclusion in the big folk horror box set a few years back, the film has gained a lot more attention.
The titular Professor Wittembach is a pastor and writer. He travels to Lithuania to study local folk customs and translate the Bible into Samogitian, an obscure dialect of the region. He is invited to the estate of Count Szemiot, whose library includes many useful old texts. The Count is eccentric, with a history of madness in his family. The family physician, Dr. Froeber, informs Wittembach that the Count's mother went insane following a bear attack, believing her son to be the offspring of the same animal. The professor officiates the Count's marriage to a beautiful young maiden but bad omens persist over the castle. Might Szemiot actually be a were-bear or is he merely a victim of his own beliefs?
Most of the Polish horror and fantasy films I've seen so far have been on the artsier side of the spectrum, usually with a heavy political bent. This remains true with "Lokis." (The title, by the way, is a misspelling of the Lithuanian word for bear.) The film seems especially concerned with the separation between man and beast, which the pastor clarifies as a distinction between our higher, spiritual calling and our more bestial nature. Usually, when were-beast movies delve into this, it's about savagery and sex. "Lokis" touches on that a little bit. The count's backstory seems to link the bear with unleashed sexual frenzy and the story comes to its climax on his wedding night. However, Majewski and his team approach the subject from a sociopolitical angle. "Lokis" frequently contrasts the nobility, and its interest in academics, with the peasantry, who are a more superstitious lot. One of the first scenes is Wittembach and some elegant ladies watching, from a train, a street performance with a bear. This sets up a distance between the haves and have-nots. While the film ostensibly adopts the more "high-minded," scientific perspective of the upper crust, this is a world fairly unambiguously at the mercy of otherworldly forces. For all its pomp and circumstances, the ruling class is as governed as much by animal desires and the whims of the hidden world as those they preside over.
“Lokis” was made three years before “The Wicker Man” but bares some resemblance to that watershed moment in folk horror history. Both films concern a Christian authority figure, quite secure in his monotheistic viewpoint of the world, being continuously challenged by pagan beliefs and rituals. Matching the more intellectual tone of the film, “Lokis” has Wittembach's understanding of a world governed by a logical God at odds with the otherworldly events he witnesses. A carriage driver warns him of the devils that haunt the forest. Only to have a wheel pulled right off their vehicle, the supernatural forces seemingly proving their own presence. Later, the pastor and the count encounter a self-styled witch in the woods. She comes across as merely an eccentric old woman at first before walking across the moss covered surface of a river as if it's a solid object. “Lokis” slots in nicely with the political and spiritual upheaval of the early seventies, when traditional structures were falling apart and a different, more daemon-haunted world was presenting itself.
All of that probably sounds pretty interesting. And it kind of is, if you're into European folklore. Unfortunately, Majewski's film is almost unbearably slow. “Lokis” is a motion picture composed almost entirely of men standing around in stately rooms and talking to each other. When the back story of the Count's mother possibly having been assaulted by an ursine is delivered, it plays out as a conversation over some paintings and books. The climatic moment of the film occurs entirely off-screen. All of this is delivered with a stilted, mannered approach. The movie can summon a certain dreamy energy in its best moments, such as the sequence with the witch. The score ramps up a few times, to get the heart pumping. However, nothing much actually seems to happen. “Lokis” is a horror movie in theory but everything sinister is implied, not shown. Don't go in expecting any were-bear chaos occurring on-screen, is what I'm saying.
That glacial pacing does seem to divide viewers of “Lokis.” I've seen some enthusiastic reviews of it, from people fully sucked into its folkloric dreaminess and not too bothered by the slowness. However, others have been seriously let down by how the movie focuses on ideas and ambiance over anything else at all. It's a nice looking film, with strong cinematography and eye-catching visuals. The settings, of a forest with sheltering branches and the strange looking castle, do make for a suitably surreal location. Ultimately though, I found myself fighting sleep before the relatively short runtime wound up. Maybe you'll find it a bit more compelling but, despite some interesting sights and more interesting ideas, “Lokis” was sabotaged for me by a plodding pace. The film did intrigued me enough to add the original novel to my reading list, though that might also be because Propser Mérimée's life story caught my eye too. [5/10]
Wednesday: You Reap What You Woe
Netflix didn't cast recognizable actors like Catherine Zeta-Jones and Luis Guzman as Morticia and Gomez only to use them for a bit in the first episode. And so Wednesday's mom and dad come into focus in "You Reap What You Woe." The episode reveals that, while attending Nevermore as teens themselves, Gomez seemingly ran through a romantic rival for Morticia with a sword and dropped him off a ledge. While investigating the recent suicide of the seemingly happy town mortician, Sheriff Galpin uncovers evidence that Gomez did commit murder all those years ago. (How he escaped this conviction originally doesn't come up.) While Wednesday's parents are visiting the school, her father is arrested for the decades old crime. Now their daughter must pause her investigation of the current strangeness plaguing the school to clear her pop's name. Meanwhile, the other students at the academy have their own mama drama to attend to.
The early flashback reveals that Gomez and Morticia attended Nevermore in the year 1991. Which would put them both in their forties in this show, assuming it's set in the modern day. While the original series did assign specific ages to the Addams, the thought of these two being Gen-Xers doesn't sit well with me. The idea of Gomez growing up during the Reagan administration feels wrong. However, I will say that Guzman and Zeta-Jones are well cast in the part. Guzman even looks a lot like Charles Addams' original illustration. He's certainly capable of bringing the weird gremlin energy of John Astin or the unapologetic eccentricity of Raul Julia to the part. The episode doesn't give him a chance to do that but at least the "Wednesday" show-runners felt no need to subvert the undying devotion and passion the parents have for each other. Zeta-Jones certainly has the demure sensuality and fey glint of the eyes necessary for Morticia. The show continues to play some tension between Wednesday and her mom, which still feels contrived to me. "You Reap What You Woe," in general, heaps on the sentimentality between parent and child. A scene where Gomez and Wednesday talk it out while he's behind glass comes awfully close to being too precious. She has a heart-to-heart with Pugsley too, once again showing how "Wednesday" seems incapable of balancing both the loyalty that defines the family and the sadomasochistic bond between these siblings.
Despite the program's insistence on sticking intentionally atypical characters into a standard dramatic arc, the guest stars do enliven "Wednesday" a lot. Once again, I like this show the most when it resembles the old sitcom. Gags like Pugsley munching on potpourri with his dad or fishing with hand grenades, or mother and daughter swapping tips on disinterring a corpse, genuinely made me snicker. Almost like this gang was invented to deliver simple visual jokes and not be involved in an elaborate mystery! Speaking of which... "You Reap What You Woe" pushes the ongoing narrative aside for a bit. Eugene was left in a coma by the monster attack, a very annoying reeling back of the previous episode's cliffhanger. The details of what happened back in 1991, that Wednesday uncovers piece by piece, are very stupid. If the solution to your mystery involves mind control potions, you've written a bad mystery. Still, at least the fate of characters we actually care about are at stake here. If the Addams Family must be at the center of some grand intrigue, Gomez having possibly murdered another man for Morticia's affection feels a lot more in-character than whatever bullshit the season is building towards. It also helps a lot that this particular story line is resolved in one hour, instead of being dragged out intermittently for an entire season.
Actually centering an episode of an Addams Family series on the Addams Family feels like an obvious conclusion. However, it's something "Wednesday" clearly is struggling with, if the subplots of this installment are anything to go by. Enid has a guilting, heavy-handed mother. She eventually gives her daughter pamphlets for "werewolf conversion" camps that will supposedly help Enid embrace her lycanthropic nature. Using a classic monster condition as a metaphor for being gay is an age-old practice. However, I think the allegory falls apart very quickly here. Enid is being told to embrace her inner nature, not deny it. Unlike queer teenagers sent off to abusive "prayer the gay away" camps by bigoted parents, she actually is a werewolf. She also likes boys, in a very traditionally girlish manner, making any attempted parallels seem wrong-headed. Enid's mom is worried about her daughter because she's a late bloomer, not because her lifestyle disagrees with them. It's a weird choice but at least Emma Myers is charming. An additional subplot about the siren girl's mother being in a cult or something is absolutely impossible to care about. More bullshit grist to occupy the runtime with on the way to the A-plot's conclusion, that I'm sure future episodes belabor unnecessarily upon. Who on the writer staff for this show had unresolved mama drama and why did they feel the need to insert it into multiple subplots? [5/10]
Thriller: A Wig for Miss Devore
Through no intentional move on my behalf, there's the second classic horror anthology episode I've watched this month to feature John Fiedler. In “A Wig for Miss Devore,” he plays the agent for the eponymous Sheila Devore. A once promising actress, Miss Devore is already washed-up and her looks faded by the age of 31. She is plotting a comeback though and finds a perfect vehicle in the story of Meg Peyton, a 18th century woman hanged at the gallows for witchcraft. Legend has it that Peyton wear a wig woven from the hairs of her victims, which granted her eternal youth and fame as long as she kept it on. Studio head Max Quinke has been keeping the residuals to Sheila's past hits to himself, information Herbert uses to blackmail him into funding the actress' comeback vehicle. Devore secures Meg Peyton's actual wig for the production, wearing it and being as strikingly beautiful again as she once was. Filming goes off without a hitch and the movie is a hit. The director marries Sheila. Yet the men around her seem to keep dying mysteriously. First Max and then her new husband, both of them found with horrible scratches over their faces. Now, what could possibly be the link there, I wonder?
“A Wig for Miss Devore” is about the fourth episode of “Thriller” I've seen that resolves around a cursed object. Several of those were written by Robert Bloch, while this one is based on a story from fellow Weird Tales graduate August Derlith. I suppose this speaks to the way the pulp writers of the forties and fifties placed classical gothic horror tropes in modern contexts. “A Wig for Miss Devore” has quite a contemporary context, taking place in the world of Hollywood. The story of an aging and somewhat delusional actress recalls both “Sunset Boulevard” and “Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?” The script doesn't seem to have much insight into the wages of fame or how the shallow film industry treats women though. The episode plays Sheila as both somewhat victimized by the men around her, like the scheming Max and the manipulative husband, while also having her be a femme fatale. (While also implying that she's not that talented, seemingly only known for her looks.) I suppose the idea is that revenge hardens the heart of everyone, even those with justifiable grievances. Or perhaps the story is simply speaking to the cut throat, ruthless nature of the motion picture business. A woman has to resort to witchcraft and murder if she hopes to claw her way back to the top, in an industry that discards any actress for the crime of simply getting a little older.
Trying to dig up too much deeper meaning here is difficult though. Instead, it's a pretty simple fable, of someone with an insatiable vanity that eventually proves to be their own undoing. Patricia Barry does give a fine performance in the titular role, striking the viewer at first as an airhead type before revealing her more calculating, vicious side. The men around her prove to be properly spineless or deceiving. I wish so much of the story's ironic pay-off wasn't shoved into its last minute. I've not read Derluth's story but this feels like an encapsulation of a longer tale. In my experience, what “Thriller” really excelled at was fantastic final shocks and a willingness to be surprisingly grim for the time. “A Wig for Miss Devore” does have a gory final image and, by the standards of 1962, it was probably fairly shocking. It's also not as good as the shock endings we got in “The Cheaters” or “The Hungry Glass.” However, there is a memorable image here. Whenever Miss Devore removes her wig, until the final minutes, all we see are aged, ghastly hands groping through the shadowy air. That's pretty cool. I do wish more episodes of this series had Boris Karloff doing both an intro and an outra, Hitchcock and Sterling style, cause I do enjoy his baroque monologues. [7/10]
“A Wig for Miss Devore” is about the fourth episode of “Thriller” I've seen that resolves around a cursed object. Several of those were written by Robert Bloch, while this one is based on a story from fellow Weird Tales graduate August Derlith. I suppose this speaks to the way the pulp writers of the forties and fifties placed classical gothic horror tropes in modern contexts. “A Wig for Miss Devore” has quite a contemporary context, taking place in the world of Hollywood. The story of an aging and somewhat delusional actress recalls both “Sunset Boulevard” and “Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?” The script doesn't seem to have much insight into the wages of fame or how the shallow film industry treats women though. The episode plays Sheila as both somewhat victimized by the men around her, like the scheming Max and the manipulative husband, while also having her be a femme fatale. (While also implying that she's not that talented, seemingly only known for her looks.) I suppose the idea is that revenge hardens the heart of everyone, even those with justifiable grievances. Or perhaps the story is simply speaking to the cut throat, ruthless nature of the motion picture business. A woman has to resort to witchcraft and murder if she hopes to claw her way back to the top, in an industry that discards any actress for the crime of simply getting a little older.
Trying to dig up too much deeper meaning here is difficult though. Instead, it's a pretty simple fable, of someone with an insatiable vanity that eventually proves to be their own undoing. Patricia Barry does give a fine performance in the titular role, striking the viewer at first as an airhead type before revealing her more calculating, vicious side. The men around her prove to be properly spineless or deceiving. I wish so much of the story's ironic pay-off wasn't shoved into its last minute. I've not read Derluth's story but this feels like an encapsulation of a longer tale. In my experience, what “Thriller” really excelled at was fantastic final shocks and a willingness to be surprisingly grim for the time. “A Wig for Miss Devore” does have a gory final image and, by the standards of 1962, it was probably fairly shocking. It's also not as good as the shock endings we got in “The Cheaters” or “The Hungry Glass.” However, there is a memorable image here. Whenever Miss Devore removes her wig, until the final minutes, all we see are aged, ghastly hands groping through the shadowy air. That's pretty cool. I do wish more episodes of this series had Boris Karloff doing both an intro and an outra, Hitchcock and Sterling style, cause I do enjoy his baroque monologues. [7/10]
