The Scream franchise—which launched in 1996 as Wes Craven's brilliant deconstruction of slasher tropes—has finally done what Ghostface never could: killed itself.
Scream 7 opened this weekend to a 41% Rotten Tomatoes score and 36 on Metacritic, numbers that would be devastating for any franchise but feel especially cruel for a series that built its reputation on being smarter than other horror sequels. The film brings back Neve Campbell as Sidney Prescott and Courteney Cox as Gale Weathers, along with survivors from the recent "requel" entries, in what was supposed to be a triumphant return to form.
Instead, it's a wake for a franchise that doesn't know when to quit.
The reviews are brutal. Critics note that Scream 7 has nothing new to say about horror, franchises, or itself—it's just going through the motions, delivering kills and meta commentary without the wit that made the original films special. The script, by Kevin Williamson and Guy Busick, recycles beats from earlier entries. The direction, also by Williamson (pulling double duty), lacks Craven's visual flair and tonal control. And the kills, once inventive and shocking, now feel perfunctory.
This is about more than one bad movie. It's about requel exhaustion—the industry's reliance on reviving legacy franchises by bringing back original characters, introducing new young casts, and hoping nostalgia carries you through weak plotting. It worked for Scream (2022), which was a clever examination of toxic fandom and franchise mythology. It worked less well for Scream VI, which moved the action to New York and added Ghostface on the subway because why not.
By Scream 7, the meta commentary has become recursive to the point of meaninglessness. A franchise that critiques horror franchises while being a horror franchise can only go so many levels deep before it collapses into self-parody. And unlike Scream 4, which at least committed to its satire of remakes and reboots, Scream 7 just seems tired.
Part of the problem is that Wes Craven is gone. He died in 2015, and while later directors have done their best, nobody has replicated his ability to balance horror, humor, and heart. Craven cared about these characters—Sidney's trauma was real, Gale's evolution felt earned, and even the kills had emotional weight. Without him, Scream is just another slasher franchise, and there are cheaper, meaner ones doing that better.
There's also franchise fatigue. Horror fans have watched Halloween reboot itself three times, Texas Chainsaw Massacre try and fail multiple reboots, and Child's Play somehow keep going. At a certain point, you just want something new—not another legacy sequel that promises to "honor the original" while cashing a check.
The box office will determine Scream 7's fate. If it makes money despite bad reviews, we'll get Scream 8, because Hollywood doesn't stop until the numbers force it to. But if audiences finally decide they've had enough—if nostalgia and brand recognition aren't enough to overcome genuine creative exhaustion—maybe this is where Ghostface finally stays dead.
In Hollywood, nobody knows anything. But in horror, we know this: the mask always comes back. The question is whether anyone still cares who's underneath.
