Avidavr: Media Reviews

Author: Avidavr

  • Scream (2022)

    Releasable, but not otherwise a cause for celebration.

    “Oh my God. They’re making a re-quel.”
    “A what?”
    “Or a Legacy-quel. Fans aren’t quite sure on the terminology.”

    That’s not a good sign. If the trend you’re referencing doesn’t even have a proper name, you might not want to hinge your entire script on it.

    So let’s investigate this legacy-quel idea. If I understand it based on Scream (2022), it’s when a movie shares the same name as the original, looks like a remake, but is actually a sequel. It takes place in the same world, continuing the story while trying to pass the torch to new characters. The film presents this as a major trend worth parodying. But… is it?

    At the time of this movie’s production, there was really only one clear case: David Gordon Green’s Halloween (2018). For some reason, they just called it Halloween, instead of adding a number or subtitle, making it confusing for audiences. But even that wasn’t entirely new—Halloween H20 had already tried to ignore past sequels and return to the original’s vibe. The franchise then spiraled into chaos with Halloween: Resurrection (widely considered the worst entry), Rob Zombie’s divisive remakes, and finally, a nine-year dormancy before the 2018 reboot.

    So, was Halloween (2018) really the start of a trend? At the time Scream (2022) was being written, two more so-called “legacy-quels” were in development: Candyman and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. But those movies weren’t even out yet. Scream treats legacy-quels like they’re an established Hollywood phenomenon, but this feels premature—more like the filmmakers heard the term floating around and rushed to cash in.

    And even among recent sequels that revive old franchises, most don’t just reuse the original title. Ghostbusters: Afterlife, Blade Runner 2049, Star Wars: The Force Awakens—all of these continued the story but at least had unique names. The only recent example I can find of a sequel taking the exact same name as the original is Ted, the TV series. And even that could have just been called Ted: The TV Show—but I guess that sounded too much like CSI: Crime Scene Investigation – The Board Game.

    The worst offender is Scream itself. Naming Scream 5 just Scream is obnoxious. It forces fans to refer to it as Scream (2022)—which I hate typing—just to differentiate it from the 1996 classic. If Hollywood insists on doing this, at least give us a color-coded logo system, like Peter Gabriel and Weezer do with their self-titled albums.

    So how’s the movie?

    It’s fine. It seems aware that modern horror has evolved past the slasher formula, but instead of fully embracing that, it just points it out. The characters openly discuss how “elevated horror” (The Babadook, It Follows, Hereditary) is what people actually watch now. That’s another bad sign. If your own script admits the genre has moved on, why are we here?

    The script overall is hammy and half-baked. The vibe is: “We noticed this trend, so we rushed this out the door. We didn’t put much effort in, because this won’t be relevant anyway.” Reviews have been generous, probably because they brought back as many surviving original characters as possible. Scream (1996) had the benefit of satirizing a slasher trend that was still relevant enough to participate in. Scream (2022) tries to satirize a trend that barely exists.

    As for the returning cast, the energy feels like:
    “I’m too old for this. But what else am I doing? This is the script? Really? I’ll only need to be there for a week? Good enough, let’s go.”

    The movie strains with its meta-humor and callbacks. “Do you know what happens to the expert?” You mean Jamie Kennedy? He survives the first movie. So, “Do you know what happens to you?” “Yeah. I’ll survive… for a while at least.” The self-awareness borders on lazy winking.

    There are a couple of cute modern touches: kids watching YouTube breakdowns of bad sequels, using phone tracking apps to monitor a partner’s location. These ideas feel relevant but barely impact the plot. They were probably brainstormed in the writers’ room and then forgotten.

    The Most Unrealistic Scream Movie Yet?

    For a franchise built on exaggerated horror tropes, this might be the most unrealistic Scream yet. Where are the returning characters’ partners and kids? Wouldn’t they have obligations keeping them from abruptly chasing down a serial killer? Also, how does Scream (2022) manage to reference the exact dialogue from the original’s opening scene? Spoiler: everyone present in that scene was dead. Even if they made a movie (Stab) based on those events, how would they have an exact transcript?

    The ending is… fine. It doesn’t make much sense, but it has the pulpy, page-turning quality of an airport thriller. There are enough twists that I didn’t outright reject the movie.

    But Scream (2022) definitely misjudged the legacy-quel concept, or at least overestimated its importance. It’s trying to make a trend happen that doesn’t really exist.

    Final Verdict

    The sixth installment is supposedly “just as good” as this one. I might watch it.

    Rating: 4.5/10

  • Kinda Pregnant (2025)

    Cringe.

    Has Amy Schumer lost her mind?

    It’s hard to believe she followed up Trainwreck—with its subtle humor and emotional poignancy—with Kinda Pregnant, a film that has more in common with the worst sitcoms of all time.

    The entire plot is based on an absurd premise: Amy Schumer’s character, Rainy, has a pregnant friend, so she wears a fake belly in public for fun. She loves the attention so much that she keeps wearing it… all the time.

    That’s not a terrible idea—it could work in the right hands. But it doesn’t. Nearly every scene has something deeply wrong with it. Rainy is portrayed as a neurotic sociopath, making up outrageous lies and somehow getting away with them despite being terrible at it. She’s also a high school teacher, which is hard to believe. She has an expletive-ridden meltdown in front of her class—how is she not fired? How does she function in life at all?

    Then there’s the yoga class for pregnant women (why is she even there?). It’s so ridiculous that it feels like no one bothered with research:

    “Breathe in through your vagina. Then exhale through your butt hole.”
    (Everyone starts farting.)

    90% of the humor relies on Rainy making incomprehensibly bad decisions. You might laugh, but for the wrong reasons—out of secondhand embarrassment, or disbelief that someone could act so inappropriately. I cringed constantly.

    The worst part? Nothing is followed through. There’s potential for real dramatic moments, but the film never commits. It’s an absurd premise, sure, and Rainy keeps making terrible choices—but if it all built up to something, maybe a big confrontation or a well-choreographed comedic disaster, it might have been worth it. But no. Nothing. Just bad writing.

    The good: Will Forte comes out relatively unscathed. His character, Josh, is likable and charming—you root for him to find the right girl (which is obviously not Rainy, who even uses her fake pregnancy as an excuse to avoid sex with him—except when she doesn’t). She sleeps with him, but does everything she can to keep him from seeing or feeling her body, maintaining the illusion of her fake pregnancy. There’s even some raunchy dialogue that only adds to the absurdity of the situation. The scenes between Rainy and her actually pregnant best friend are solid. Most of the supporting characters are fine—sane, even. I didn’t mind the broader attempts at humor, like a scene at a butterfly tent where Rainy’s friend (NOT Rebel Wilson) yells for bug spray and starts a fight. I didn’t laugh, but I smiled.

    I want to believe Amy Schumer is better than this. Either she’s lost her ability to write, or—more likely—she “reworked” someone else’s D-list script in a week and called it a day. She’s also too old for this role.

    Kinda Pregnant. Only kinda funny.

    3.5/10.