There are some thoughts you’re not supposed to admit in the vast cyber-reaches of Internet foo-foo movie-critics-land – stuff like, “Hey, I’m kinda jazzed about seeing SCREAM 4!” maybe because the first SCREAM movie was my first real horror movie theater experience when I was a high school freshman and I freaked out, almost vaporizing into a puff of utter frozen terror when Drew Barrymore was being chased by Ghost Face, and I was screaming, “I don’t want to be here, I don’t want to be here, I don’t want to be here,” until my best friend had to hold my hand and calm me down and then we watched the rest of the movie and I loved it, so if I want to relive a little teenage nostalgia I’m allowed to – because, of course if you type such words, if you reveal such ill-formed taste as to actually like that movie, or that director, or that star, or that franchise, you’re revealing yourself as nothing more than a philistine troglodyte mouth-breather idiotface who should just go back to watching American Idol and stop writing about movies, and look, I’m not saying good taste isn’t important or that we shouldn’t have standards in art, but whatever a movie is – art or trash – it can sometimes work a strange, glorious magic in the individual who watches it, even when, objectively speaking, it ain’t very good.
Which is to say, I’m going to see SCREAM 4 this weekend.
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