Our Rating: 6.5/10

There is something almost impossible about sustaining a franchise built on self awareness. The original Scream deconstructed horror while being horror. Every sequel since has had to comment on itself while still delivering the goods.

Scream 7 understands the formula. It knows the beats. It knows the audience expects commentary layered over carnage. And for stretches, it delivers that with confidence. The script still has flashes of intelligence when it skewers reboot culture and the commodification of trauma. It recognises that horror is now algorithmic, franchise driven, nostalgia fed.

But recognition is not reinvention.

The film leans heavily on legacy. Familiar faces return, and there is emotional gravity in that continuity. Seeing survivors who have carried violence across decades gives the narrative weight. There is something powerful in refusing to let women who were once chased through corridors be reduced to footnotes in their own mythology.

That said, the film hesitates.

The tension rarely destabilises. The kills are efficient but rarely inventive. The pacing is tight but predictable. It plays with the idea of dismantling the formula without fully committing to breaking it.

There is a feminist thread here that deserves acknowledgement. The franchise has long interrogated the “final girl” trope, and this instalment continues that conversation. Women in this world are not just victims or symbols. They are strategists. Survivors. Sometimes even morally ambiguous. But the script stops short of pushing that evolution into something truly radical.

Ultimately, Scream 7 feels like maintenance. Competent. Entertaining. A reminder of why the series mattered. But not a chapter that redefines it.

It satisfies.

It does not surprise.

A solid continuation that honours its history while playing it slightly too safe.