How Scream’s ‘Phone Call Killer’ revolutionised the horror genre
The extended opening sequence of Wes Craven‘s 1996 slasher hinges on one fundamental truth—that the first, big, ear-piercing scream is essential to any great horror movie. It’s in the name, after all. Scream.
Craven builds anticipation for that initial scream throughout the opening scene, establishing that this is set to be a very different horror movie. One that would balance self-awareness with the existential horror inherent to having your life in the hands of a faceless serial killer. Most importantly, though, Craven was seeking to define this film as a slasher with a heavy sense of pathos.
The first film referenced in Scream is John Carpenter’s seminal work, Halloween – a mention complete with Casey pulling a knife from a rack. The shot instantly evokes Michael Myers’s weapon of choice, mirroring several shots in Carpenter’s movie as well as its poster. Halloween, as great as it is, was not a film overly concerned with pathos for Myers’ victims. They don’t deserve their fate, but before their deaths, they’re portrayed as terrible people—little more than archetypes of the “horny teenagers die first” trope.
Casey, played by Drew Barrymore, couldn’t be further from this stereotype. She’s one of us. She likes scary movies, has strong opinions on the Nightmare on Elm Street sequels, and is about to watch a movie—just like we are. We’re directly aligned with her as an audience, following her around the house. The process of watching itself is heightened by the distorted movement captured through the camera’s ultra-wide anamorphic lens. If Scream existed in a vacuum—if someone were to watch this film knowing nothing about it—Casey would seem like the obvious protagonist.
All of this makes us feel much more helpless as it becomes apparent she’s cannon fodder. Whoever’s on the other end of the line is watching her. “I want to know who I’m looking at” he mutters. You can practically hear the sly grin in his voice. He wants to know who he’s going to kill. His references to horror tropes would be funny if we weren’t already so aligned with Casey. “You should never say who’s there. Don’t you watch scary movies? You might as well investigate a strange noise.”
Although born of desperation, Casey’s description of her boyfriend further endears her to us. There are people she loves who love her. We now know that her death will be seen as a tragedy within some sort of broader community. We’re rooting for her. But her boyfriend is outside, and he has his guts ripped out because she’s losing at horror movie trivia. Less than ten minutes in, and we’ve already witnessed our first particularly gruesome kill. Ghostface breaks in, and Casey runs out through the smashed glass. Her parents are approaching the house, but it’s too late. Ghostface catches up to her and stabs her repeatedly, to the point where even hardcore fans of horror movie gore might consider it excessive. The fact that Casey dies just as her parents arrive—when salvation seems so close—sends a clear message: Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.
The sequence ends with Casey on the phone to her own parents as she’s killed before revealing her corpse hanging from a tree. This sets up the film’s tone, which balances the comedy of genre tropes with the very real, sombre nature of death itself. Then comes that scream we’ve been waiting for—the anguished cry of a mother who’s just discovered her child butchered.
This opening works perfectly and even better as a foreshadowing for the film to come—a story not about Casey Becker but about Sidney Prescott. Sidney is a girl traumatised by her mother’s death, looked down on by her peers, and manipulated by her friends and boyfriend. She must reach self-actualisation by fighting for her life. The sequence also sets up another crucial thread—when Casey pulls off the killer’s mask, we don’t see who’s underneath. This is also a murder mystery.
By playing fast and loose with slasher genre tropes, centring the narrative on character and pathos, and being self-aware without being sly, Craven lays the groundwork for a new brand of horror in this opening scene—long before anyone was using the term “elevated horror”. Craven set a new standard for intelligent, meta-aware horror films that could still deliver genuine scares and emotional depth.
