[Editorial] Happy 10th Anniversary to Scream 4 and the Start of My Life

Sometimes, you begin to notice synchronicities in your life. Little things that start to pop out; an almost breadcrumb trail of your journey. For me, my life has been inextricably related to Wes Craven in the most bizarre, but meaningful, ways since I was around seven or eight.

Childhood memories can be foggy as times and dates all meld into some kind of conscious blur that it makes it difficult to determine exactly when I saw something or the order. But while Alien might be the first R-rated horror movie I’d seen, it was A Nightmare on Elm Street that truly opened my brain to what horror could be. Up until the one-two punch of Alien and A Nightmare on Elm Street, horror movies were black and white and had tragic monsters as villains; the kind of character that evoked sympathy more than horror. 

A Nightmare on Elm Street changed that. Freddy Krueger was cruel; a tormentor who taunted his victims before eventually slicing them to bits. It was the first time I had seen such a thing. A Nightmare on Elm Street was also the first time I became cognizant that someone made this film. That it didn’t just appear out of the ether. I became obsessed with learning about his filmography and made lists of films of his to watch, like The Last House on the Left and The Hills Have Eyes...films my parents (understandably) forbade me to watch. At some point, my parents decided their ten year old son shouldn’t watch R-rated films and I retreated into horror books that weren’t policed by either my parents or the teenager running the bookstore cash register. Movies fell away. Literature became paramount. 

And yet Wes Craven brought me back into the horror movie fold through Scream; or, more particularly Scream 2. It came out at the crossroads of actually being old enough to watch the films without parental interference and a time when high school furor over the films was at an all-time high. I quickly watched the original movie to prepare for the sequel and, just like that, Wes Craven had me wrapped around his fingers once again. I became re-obsessed with horror. And the rest, as they say, is history. 

Except it wasn’t. 

I’ve written before how deeply in the closet I spent most of my life. It began as a little voice inside that told me that I saw things a little differently than most of the boys at school. But by the time I was in my twenties, I knew. I knew and yet I wouldn’t say the word out loud, lest someone hear it. Because if someone else knew...well, then it’d be an impossible thing to take back. Words have meaning and giving life to them can cause a ripple effect. Once the words are out there, you can’t take them back. They take on their own life and multiply as they reverberate through people who hear them. They can irrevocably change life as we know it. So, they stayed locked inside the cliched closet and I thought I was content to just throw away the key. 

Time, as I mentioned, can sometimes be foggy. And memory can be cloudy about particular times and dates. I’ve often joked with my brother that the only reason I remember his birthday is that A Nightmare on Elm Street 5 came out on VHS on the day and I used that as a marker. But some dates are forever etched in my brain.

April 15th, 2011. I went on a weekend trip with friends instead of seeing Scream 4 opening night.

April 16th, 2011. I said the words, “I’m gay” out loud for the first time. 

April 17th, 2011. I saw Scream 4. 

Like I said, my life has inextricably been attached to Wes Craven. 

I won’t lie. That weekend was an emotional roller coaster. I was angry. I was sad. I felt defeated. It’s uncomfortable to have to face certain truths that you’d rather never acknowledge. By Sunday the 17th, I was fearful of what my life would look like, now that the words had been given life. One person knew my secret. And I knew it was just the beginning. Soon the word would float from ear to ear and the nebulous thoughts would become truth.

On Sunday, the two of us snuck away from the group to go watch Wes Craven’s latest film. And while Scream 4 wasn’t the reason I came out of the closet, I can’t help but notice that this is yet another time when Craven was there for me when I needed him. 

And boy did I need him. 

For almost two hours, I was lost in the world of Sidney, Dewey and Gale. I laughed unexpectedly at the opening. I gasped at the reveals. I admired Kirby. But mostly, I reveled in Craven’s return to being a horror maestro. Up until its release, the internet was full of predictions that Sidney wouldn’t be the main character or that she’d die. But she was the main character. It was her story, dammit. And she didn’t die. She persevered. I thought to myself, if Sidney can survive four movies where the world itself seems constantly pitted against her, maybe I could, too. Maybe I could end up loving myself. 

And, reader? I did. 

Happy birthday, Scream 4. Happy tenth anniversary to the beginning of my life.