Directed by Wes Craven. Starring Max Thieriot, John Magaro, Denzel Whitaker, Zena Grey, Nick Lashaway, Paulina Olszynski, Harris Yulin. Genre : Serial Killer Horror. 102 mins. Cert : 18

UK release date 4th April 2011. RRP DVD £15.99, Blu-Ray £17.99.

Although occasionally studio tampering (witness : the useless CURSED) or obvious cheque-cashing (see : THE HILLS HAVE EYES PART II / VAMPIRE IN BROOKLYN) have resulted in career doldrums, Wes Craven has been one of the more consistent writer-directors to have emerged in the horror field in the 1970’s. We can forgive him for the phoned-in, sub-SCOOBY DOO smug bum-fluff of SCREAM 3, because this is the guy that gave us the definitive two Freddy Krueger movies, the most enduring 70’s grungy rape-revenge movie and the most underrated movie to ever feature TWIN PEAKS’ Everett McGill in a gimp suit (since you’re asking, it’s THE PEOPLE UNDER THE STAIRS). Even some of his weaker, sillier ventures have their not inconsiderable bright moments : the pre-CGI basketball-instigated head-detonation of Anne Ramsey in DEADLY FRIEND is why evolution gave us the “pause” option on clumsy 80’s VCRs.

MY SOUL TO TAKE is Craven’s first movie as writer-director since 1994’s sublime NEW NIGHTMARE but ranks among his least enthusiastically received works. The precious few moviegoers that paid to see it in 3-D during its brief US theatrical run last autumn (it’s straight to DVD here) have a right to feel ripped off : it has about as much need to be retrofitted into eye-straining three dimensions as Craven’s TV horror movies of the 80’s. If you catch it on good old 2-D DVD, the quality production values and isolated moments of style will compare favourably to all those cruddy shot-on-video no-budget zombie flicks cluttering up the rental shelves…but you can be forgiven for expecting more than a ponderous, unambitious slasher flick from one of our crowned genre kings.

It begins promisingly enough, with a melodramatic, violent opening stretch confirming Craven has ditched the now uber-annoying post-modern gimmick of the SCREAM franchise (at least until SCREAM 4...) and is settling nicely into a nasty retro-slasher groove with a fresh sicko on the block to follow his immortal Freddy and his overlooked Horace Pinker (c.f. SHOCKER). In the small town of Riverton, the mysterious schizophrenic mass murderer decimating the locals - unimaginatively nicknamed The Riverton Ripper - is finally apprehended in his own home and apparently drowns following an ambulance crash. His body was never found but local legend holds that, since he allegedly died at midnight on the day seven babies were born in the town, his vengeful spirit will live on in one of them. The notion of “multiple souls”, souls that can move on to other people, is put forward as an alternative to multiple personalities, and, sixteen years later, the local kids born on that fateful night commemorate the annual ritual of “Ripper Day”. Soon they’re being bumped off one by one and a whoisit? Conundrum unfolds.

Much of Craven’s script revisits familiar themes and concerns from a body of horror work that dates back to 1972. He develops a mythology around his latest “monster” within an unfolding story rife with typical Craven elements like the “sins of the parents” sub-plots, hostile or ineffectual authority / parental figures (including an underwritten, absurdly broad Violent Stepfather figure and an insensitive principal), surrealistic moments of dreamlike blurred reality and even the fleeting use of old horror movies on TV (here, THE BIRDS). Craven’s eye for atmospheric visuals results in a few creepy interludes, including an eerie pool-set murder and a fabulously fog-enshrouded bridge. The brutal killing of an appealing character whom you could envision as a potential Final Girl, even provides a bonafide mid-point shock.

Sadly, Craven’s bold decision to skew younger than normal with his protagonists results in a rather awkward representation of modern high-schoolers and an excess of unengaging characters. MY SOUL TO TAKE’s precise target audience is tough to define : trimmed of the bloody throat slashings and profanity, it could easily pass for another largely scare-less, bland PG-13 genre flick pitched at mall-rats. In its release version, it straddles the stools of visceral 18-rated slasher flick and slick teen suspenser.

Craven is much smarter than some of the trite dialogue (“It’s not OK for everyone to be killing each other all the time!”) and old-hat false scares would suggest to non-fans, but any goodwill generated by the reasonably brisk bodycount-building first half is negated by the gradual collapse of the script in the final reels. Brace yourself for an especially anti-climactic ending - but just be grateful they didn’t use the juvenile alternate ending included within the extra features, which would have made you even more confused about what possible audience they had in mind.

Steven West.

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