Though Scream 4 was Wes Craven’s final film before his death in 2015, My Soul to Take was the last film he wrote, directed, and produced. Much derided on release this overstuffed slasher takes us on a messy thematic tour of Craven’s hits and, whilst not as clean-cut as the Scream film which came after it, offers a more consummate swan song for one of cinema’s heavyweight horror auteurs.
Within five minutes screentime we’re introduced to a cosey domestic scenario, a news flash about a gruesome serial killer, the reveal of the serial killer’s identity, a Jekyll/Hyde scenario from Raul Esparza (who deserves way more screen time), more than one fake-out death, the murder of a pregnant woman, and an ambulance crash sequence. Its with one of the most ludicrous, break-neck sequences Craven has ever put to screen and sets a pretty mental standard for the rest of the film.
Cut forward 16 years and a group of seven teens live with the knowledge they were all born the exact moment the infamous Riverton Ripper died. There’s the evangelical Penelope, blind Jerome, hot cheerleader-type Brittany, asshole jock Brandon, creative Jay, downtrodden Alex, and the quiet outsider Bug who inherits the mannerisms and voices of his friends as they die one-by-one. Every year they enact a banishment ceremony gathered around the candle-covered wreck of the ambulance which crashed 16 years before. It seems, in those 16 years, the Riverton Ripper has become a legend, folklore stoked by grief tourism, local gossip, and the self-mythologising of the Riverton 7 themselves. It isn’t long before a spate of murders unleashes a fresh wave of terror on the community of Riverton.
Its familiar territory for Craven, the world of emotionally tumultuous teenagers prey to a vicious cross-generational serial killer. Craven has long known that the lucrative horror cash often resides in the wallets of teens and his lifelong love of terrorizing the hallways of high schools and quiet middle-class communities has served him well. With My Soul To Take, Craven puts the most effort he ever has into fleshing out his band of kids.
Long a dab-hand at dialogue (‘if it gets too hot, turn on the prayer conditioning’) and character moments, Craven serves up plenty here. Especially in that first half. Covert operations in high school bathrooms, surprisingly astute life lessons, endearingly chaotic classroom antics, a posse of bad girls who operate like the mafia, its more than we ever got from A Nightmare on Elm Street or Scream.
That’s the problem though. Half the film is so focused on ten different threads, a host of characters, and a stream of red herrings that it forgets to bother with horror. The first kill, though gorgeously located, is so swift and clean its robbed of any power. This is a recurring disappointment in My Soul to Take. Craven, infamous for some of the genre’s most harrowing kills (Mari in The Last House on the Left, Tina from A Nightmare on Elm Street jump to mind) is nowhere to be seen. This is a film oddly sterile in a way that feels determined to maintain a lower certification.
Most disappointing is probably the realization that Craven is desperately trying to outreach Scream. The jumble of ideas, the amount of runtime focused on characters and relationships which go nowhere, the overbaked quality to so much of the set-up, it’s a formula for disappointment because in no way can all these elements pay off. At least not in a way that satisfies.
On the other hand, this is one of Craven’s most batshit films because of its inconsistencies, big-swing stupidity, and bumpy writing. It is easy to get caught up in the good parts and just kind of sit in awe at the rest of it. There’re frustrations in its stupidity, the way scenes just kind of lump together, but a surprising joy in the way characters ignore the narrative inconsistencies. My Soul to Take is soft in violence but practically disembowels a pregnant woman. Its often funny, but never quite where it means to be. That core of melodrama has a gravitational pull, though.
For every dumb dull kill or half-arsed chase scene, there some gratuitous bit of overacting or ludicrous line-reading. It’s a woeful horror film, but My Soul to Take serves a type of camp high school melodrama that’s a pretty bizarre blend of trashy high school drama and PG horror. Like if Spielberg’s hand was a guiding influence on Hooper’s Poltergeist, maybe Diablo Cody and Karyn Kusuma managed to infiltrate Craven’s script.
My Soul to Take is a messy, sometimes ambitious, sprawling teen slasher with a focus on character. However, Craven’s inconsistency in the writing and unrestrained autuership splits the film into two distinct halfs: nicely articulated character development, and a mess of exposition with poor dialogue and crap kills. However, there’s fun to be had once the initial disappointment wears of. Its surprisingly entrancing to see Craven just push a lot of half-baked ideas out into the ether, film it, get bored editing in the last act, but still nail so much of what makes Craven Craven.
Scott Clark
Dir. Wes Craven
Stars. Max Thieriot, John Magaro, Emily Meade, Zena Grey, Nick Lashaway, Raul Esparza, Jessica Hecht, Harris Yulin,
