Scream 4

In some ways Scream would have worked best as a one-off, an in-joke for fans of a genre whose fierce devotion to it doesn't always equate well with laughing at it - and themselves. While the first film turned out to be something of a 'revolution' in terms of its influence on subsequent offerings, it can also be blamed for spawning some of their frustrating conventions, while it was ironically lampooning those of the past. It's testimony to both Kevin Williamson's endlessly inventive and knowing script and Wes Craven's assured hand with the horror that the original Scream still works better 15 years on than practically every slasher that has tried to follow in its footsteps - and that includes its own sequels.

Scream 2 took the gamble of self-consciously trying to buck the tradition of inferior sequels, succeeding by expanding the characters, developing the self-referential humour even further, and generally delivering more of the same while the formula was still fresh. The third film lost Williamson and also most of the audience, watering down the horror and becoming a tad too ridiculous, even compared to the over-elaborate schemes cooked up by the killers in previous instalments. Scream 4 wisely works more or less on its own, with little unnecessary reference to the plots of its predecessors - while it's great fun to see original cast members back, Williamson has obviously realised that most of the kids who grew up on the franchise will have moved on, and its re-inception will only work if it can appeal to modern sensibilities as well as postmodern.

The cult of the Woodsboro murders has continued to grow in the ten years since the last film, generating a septet of horror films and even an anniversary celebration in the town. Original heroine Sidney's survival-themed book tour takes her home just in time for the holiday, the omnipresent Ghostface decorations and costumes bringing back more than just memories. Deputy Dewey - now a Sheriff but still as despairingly daffy as ever - finds himself at the mercy of both a new killer and the already-circling media vultures, including his writer's block-afflicted wife, Gale Weathers. Weathers has made a mint turning her experiences into shabby novels (and b-movies in turn), but with her well running dry and like a shark scenting blood, she smells a chance to return to her investigative journo glory days, and maybe even fix her dysfunctional marriage by helping Dewey crack the case. But who could be the killer, and what do they want?

The film opens in true series fashion with layers upon layers of self-mocking horror convention, stretching the film-within-a-film gimmick to within an inch of breaking point. The 'Stab' series credibly and craftily spoofs everything from Scream itself to the Saw films, while setting this new film's cards clearly on the table with some surprisingly vicious violence, shocking the crowd out of their comfort zone.

It's an old trick but one that's handled with cheek and relish, Williamson knowing when to relent with the irony to let Craven have his way with the audience's nerves. Roger Jackson's insidious vocal presence and the director's mastery of this sort of material still stand out, each suspense sequence managing to unsettle and excite despite being inescapably familiar. Attempts to bring modern technology into the mix lead to some situations that breathe a little fresh air into proceedings, but they are mostly rehashed from other films, with fixed cameras a la Paranormal Activity, and the now prerequisite Facebook stalking failing to compete with the menacing calls. Throughout, the new characters are often too close to those of the original - we now get two Jamie Kennedys for the price of one - but the young cast acquit themselves with aplomb, Hayden Pannettiere especially enjoyable as a spunky horror connoisseur.

It's the spirited performances of the old guard that distinguishes this sequel, however. Neve Campbell remains as plucky and appealing as ever, given some sterling support from an intense Mary MacDonnell as her traumatized aunt and rising starlet Emma Roberts as the cousin struggling to escape her shadow. Campbell really communicates Sidney's feelings of guilt and responsibility for the ever-escalating murders; the killer's attacks are a constant attempt to turn her screws, leading her into a headlong chase to put an end to the slaughter. David Arquette is amiably flustered throughout, although his character's eternal ineffectiveness stretches credulity to the limit. The star of the show is still definitely Courtney Cox, though - her acidic, opportunistic news-hound doling out come-ons and put-downs every time she appears, busting balls and ruffling feathers everywhere she goes. It's a real pleasure to see Cox so fearlessly walk such a fine line, fully embracing her character's one-sided motivations but also making her sassy enough to care about. It makes you wish she hadn't wasted so many years on anodyne sitcoms and Bruce Springsteen videos.

One thing that's often forgotten when considering the Scream series is that aside from all the self-reflection they're basically just very efficient whodunits, as opposed to just who-dies-nexts. Kevin Williamson's script repeatedly sets up tantalizing red herrings only to curtail into sharp set-pieces where Wes Craven's sure hand at wringing tension out of convention comes to the fore. The violence is full-on enough to please gore-hounds, but won't put off the mainstream crowd, while the frequent nods and winks to horror new and old mostly come off as appreciative rather than indulgent. The climactic revelation may seem a little too deja vu, but at least the film runs with its finale, ending on perhaps the series' most demented note. Apparently, Williamson has another two scripts already in the pipeline, which might be jumping the gun given that this entirely unnecessary but undeniably crowd-pleasing return wraps things up so nicely. Here's hoping he and Craven continue to restore their series' credibility as well as their own with the inevitable next instalment.