SCREAM ‘77
My Mixtape’s A Masterpiece is a weekly feature in which a guest compiles a playlist around some theme. This week, Vito Nusret assembles 12 songs for a soundtrack to a hypothetical prequel to SCREAM, set in the ‘70s. Read Vito’s thoughts on each song and listen along to the Spotify playlist on top and/or the YouTube playlist at the bottom of the post.
Listen on! This is the truth of it... In the past, the speaker was the first tracker and teller... I'm looking behind us now, across the count of time, down the long haul into history back... safe and sound now, back in good old 2023. I awoke one morning (mid-afternoon) to see the cultural and creative blunder of losing both Melissa Barrera and Jenny Ortega from the SCREAM franchise in favor of genocide and the military industrial complex. Rather than going on with life (like a normal adult) I decided to conceptualize what I deemed to be a clever cinematic pivot for the forthcoming SCREAM 7 to be a prequel instead entitled SCREAM ‘77 to replenish the creative cache for the assailed series and allow time for cooler heads to prevail. Since those goobers at Spyglass Media Group wouldn’t listen… I thought that maybe you’d like to hear me out…
I lean in closer, smelling strongly of Funyuns®, and tell you my tale on a northbound Western Avenue bus while you regret not putting your bag on the seat next to you
1. “(Don’t Fear) The Reaper” by Blue Öyster Cult
August 1977. A tall brunette teen girl with a shag haircut wearing a halter top one piece floral printed bathing suit with cutoff red short shorts over it and brown cowboy boots steps out of the Northern California brush to a chorus of chirps and chitters in the dusky late summer twilight and scans the highway in both directions. Noticing an oncoming truck she sets her leather bowler bag at her boots, takes out an oversized scoop neck white t-shirt, puts it on, and posts her left hand on her hip while jutting out her right hand with thumb outstretched. The onrushing rig is an unusual 1976 Western Star 4800 18-wheeler decked out in jet black with a stark visage of a white Ghostface mask mounted over the hood and grille. The girl reads the branding prominently printed in green, white, and silver along the glossy black cargo trailer as the truck screeches to a halt: Silver Shamrock Novelties, Masks, and Costumes. The driver, a burly, bearded, beast of bloke with a sleeveless shirt and Gold’s Gym trucker hat, pops open the passenger door amplifying the heavy and brooding hard rock guitar solo emanating from his radio.
“Howdy, little lady! Where ya headin’?” The driver is gruff but cordial enough.
The girl suddenly looks timid, crossing her arms behind her back and kicking at gravel with her boot. “W-Woodsboro, sir.”
“Well that’s no problem, miss. I’m taking this rig to Santa Rosa so that’s not too far outta my way so hop in.” The driver beckons with his left appendage revealing a prosthetic metal hook hand and upon seeing it the girl immediately halts her ascent into the truck cab. The driver notices her apprehension and attempts to assuage her fears. “Oh, this guy?” Eyeing his perturbing prosthetic. “You don’t need to worry about that. Loose cargo incident a couple years back and I don’t expect you to do any heavy lifting. The name is Damien Friedkin, by the way.”
The girl pulls herself into the truck and extends her right hand to shake his, “Debbie.” The obsidian 18-wheeler revs to life as the girl slams the door behind her and looks nervously back at the semi-trailer in the review mirror. “It must be neat driving around with all this Halloween stuff. I like Halloween.”
“Do you like being scared, Debbie?” Damien asks with a wry smirk. The girl responds with a shy smile and nervously tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. Somewhere in the dark of the truck cabin, a beam from a passing streetlight glimmers off of the blade of a 120 General Buck knife. After only a short jaunt, the truck breaks hard as a commotion shakes the cab. Soon all is still and silent with the exception of the guttural roar of the 2-stroke, 8-cylinder V-engine and the rhythmic clang of cowbell coming from the cab stereo. A door of the truck opens releasing a shower of blood. After a few moments of unnerving tranquility the tractor-trailer travels forth with a loud lurch forward.
2. “I’m In Love With My Car” by Queen
“There are certain rules that one must abide by in order to successfully utilize CB radio! For instance, you need a ‘handle.’”
“Handle? Get a grip.” Kathryn Hooper in the driver’s seat of Clark Robert’s 1974 Mercury Cougar XR-7 and dramatically winds her fingers around the steering wheel as Clark sitting shotgun fiddles with his freshly installed Cobra 29 LTD Classic CB radio amidst a snap and pop of static. “And did you have to install this now? We’re missing the bonfire!”
Meanwhile at the bonfire up the road apiece, Clark’s best friends and high school football teammates Robin and Tobe are loading firewood off of Tobe’s 1973 Chevrolet C-10 pickup truck and chuckling about scaring the hell out of someone as they gesture to their own CB radio.
Back at the Cougar camped at the truck stop Clark can’t contain his mischievous smile. “This baby is gonna help us make great time to the bonfire and anywhere else for that matter. It’s the future of mobile communication!"
Kathryn scoffs with a smirk. “If it’s the future then why are you putting it in this pile?”
“Hey!” Clark responds in playfully exaggerated outrage. “Not a word against Freddie or you’ll be walking to the bonfire!” Clark lovingly strokes the dash as he leans in towards Kathryn for a kiss. Behind the canoodling couple an ominous black 18-wheeler engulfs the rear window of the Cougar. The smooching twosome cast sidelong glances at the sinister looking semi truck. Suddenly the static of CB Channel 7 is cut by a raspy whisper.
“Do you like being scared?”
3. “Fly By Night” by Rush
“What was this bullshit about rules?” Steve exhales a plume of smoke in his puke green 1971 Ford Pinto and passes a joint to Hank riding shotgun and perusing Famous Monsters Of Filmland issue #136.
“Prequels.” Hank says, straining to hold in the smoke. “I just think they’re bogus.” Hank exhales a thick cloud of smog with a fit of coughs and hands the jazz cigarette back to Steve who rolls his eyes at the clearly cashed roach and chucks it out the window. “The outcome is predetermined thus removing the stakes and suspense and replacing any tension with just waiting for the story to catch up with what audiences already know.”
“I dunno, man. I think audiences can just enjoy the ride.”
Hank continues without registering Steve’s counterargument. “Plus it diminishes any magic of the original in service of overexplaining plot holes. It’s just lazy storytelling, ya know?”
“You think THE GODFATHER PART II is lazy?” Steve inquires incredulously.
“I mean, no. But it’s only a partial prequel. Plus it doesn’t follow the rules.”
Steve rubs the bridge of his nose with one hand while keeping his other hand on the steering wheel. “Again with the fucking rules.”
Hank continues his diatribe unphased. “Rule #1: Trust No One (Especially Love Interests): The killer is almost always someone close to the protagonist with a direct link to the past.”
Steve inquires "Like the past in the story or the past films?”
“Exactly.” Steve furrows his brow with confusion as Hank prattles on. “Rule #2: The Past is Present: The plot will directly tie into, or maybe more aptly ruin, the backstory of the original, making legacy characters or their families prime targets.” Steve just shakes his head as Hank persists. “Rule #3: Expect the Unexpected: Standard horror rules (no sex, no drugs) still apply, but prequels subvert expectations by making the killer's motive more personal or psycho-sexual.” Hank flutters his eyebrows with the utterance of “psycho-sexual.” “Rule #4: The Killer is More Intense: Prequel killers are often more brutal, setting the stage for why future, more famous, killers exist in subsequent films.”
Steve exhales with exhaustion and admonishment as he turns into the truck stop to gas up the Pinto. Steve pulls in at the pump just across from the Ghostface truck and Clark’s Cougar. “Yeah, but THE GODFATHER PART II isn’t a horror flick.”
“It is if you’re scared of oranges which a surprising number of people are!”
4. “See No Evil” by Television
Hank leans over and yells at Steve exiting the Pinto. “It’s called portokaliphobia!” Steve slams his driver’s side door in Hank’s face muffling his cry of “It’s a real affliction!” Hank lets out a small yelp as an orange car drives past. Steve watches as the Cougar abruptly peels rubber out of the truck stop with a large, ill-boding big rig creeping behind the coupe until both disappear from view.
Back in the Cougar Kathryn is white-knuckling the wheel as she speeds down the darkened highway. Kathryn's eyes dart back and forth from the windshield to the rearview mirror when a precipitous pop erupts from the rear of the vehicle causing Kathryn to swerve erratically. Clark reaches over and helps Kathryn straighten the wheel as the car fishtails back and forth on the road. “Kath?” Clark chimes in an as measured and calm tone as he can muster, “We’ve just had a blowout. Now gently ease off the accelerator and slowly pull over to the shoulder. That’s good. Really good.” Once the coupe s safely on the side of the road Clark lets out a deep sigh followed by yelling “Are you fucking nuts? What was that back there?”
Kathryn finally releases the steering wheel. “You saw that thing back there and heard what it said over the radio. They were trying to box us in!”
“It was probably just some bored trucker messing with you! You could have killed us!” Clark jumps out of the passenger seat and kicks the blown rear tire. Then walks around to the driver’s side window where Kathryn sits, arms crossed breathing heavily and feels guilty for blowing up at her. “Look, I’m sorry, okay?”
Kathryn exhales, her cheeks reddened with embarrassment. “I’m sorry I freaked. Tell Freddie I’m sorry too.” They both enjoy a chuckle.
“I know.” Clark offers sheepishly. “Listen, I have a spare but it needs a patch. I’ll run back to that truck stop. You just wait here.”
“But that weird truck could still be out there!” They both pause to look in both directions down the road, seeing nothing, and hearing only the buzz and clicks of insects.
“I’m sure it wasn’t after us. The truck stop was just a couple of miles back. I’ll be right back.” Clark says confidently. “Just keep the doors locked and don’t open them for anyone. I’ll be back in a jiffy and when I do, I’ll drive.” Clark kisses his side of the window and Kathryn does the same to hers wondering if that was for her benefit or the car’s.
5. “Psycho Killer” by Talking Heads
As she watches Clark recede in the rearview mirror, Kathryn impulsively turns the CB radio back on. She jokingly presses the button on the receiver. “Breaker. Breaker. This Kathryn Ann Hooper, and I just sent my boyfriend to his certain death. Over and out.” Kathryn releases the receiver and chuckles to herself until she hears a reply.
“This is Romero, Miss Hooper., I’ll 10-5 that but what’s your 20? Use emergency Channel–” Kathryn gasps and turns off the radio in a panic. After a few moments she turns it back on only to hear a rancorous raspy chuckle. With a shiver she switches the CB off once more.
Clark marches his way up the hill, doubtless despite the darkness that he and Kathryn are safe and sound. They’ve traversed these roads countless times and are only a few short miles from all their high school friends partying in the woods for the annual bonfire that the students of Woodsboro High do to commemorate the end of summer before the start of a brand new school year. Go Panthers!
Nothing he could imagine would come between Kathryn and his lofty plans for the future. He’d stop perpetrating childish pranks and cheap scares to startle his girlfriend and impress his friends. They’d go through their senior year together. He'd play football, she’d cheerlead. They’d go to prom, graduate, and then maybe after a few years of working on his dad’s vineyard he'd ask Karthryn too…
Cresting the hill Clark finds himself blinded by headlights as his train of thought becomes derailed permanently by a head-on collision with the speeding black Ghostface truck. The impact pulverizes Clark’s organs in an instant causing his guts to splatter all over the once pristine white ghost mask mounted on the grille and sending his appendages firing off in separate directions, spraying blood and guts haphazardly across the asphalt of the dark and desolate drag.
6. “You Make Loving Fun” by Fleetwood Mac
As the fatal freighter floundered to the frontage with headlights now off, a slick strip of sanguine streaks the blacktop as a car speeds through it. It’s the Pinto piloted by Steve with Hank sitting shotgun. Steve recognizes the Cougar immediately and pulls over in front of it. When he sees Kathryn his heart skips a beat as Christine McVie’s sultry contralto emanating from his stereo resonates deeper than it ever has before. Kathryn has been his crush since fourth grade. Hank sees Steve frozen like the proverbial deer in the headlights and takes initiative. “Oh, uh, hi!” Steve pops out of the Pinto after Hank with a goofy smile but says nothing. Hank proceeds “Car trouble?”
Kathryn has been frantically scanning in every direction, still rattled from the threatening truck, tire blowout, and her Citizens Band radio faux pas. “No, I mean, yeah but we’re good. My boyfriend just ran up the road to that truck stop for a tire patch.”
Hank looks back at Kathryn puzzled. “That way? We just came from that truck stop and there wasn’t anyone on the road in between here and there.”
Now Kathryn was confused. She opens her door and steps out of the Cougar. Steve and Hank join her at the trunk to examine the spare tire despite neither of them possessing much mechanical proficiency. Regardless, Hank offers his unsolicited and uneducated evaluation. “I guess it’s kinda flat but probably fine to drive on. Where are you headed?”
Steve interrupts louder than their proximity would warrant, pointing his finger at Kathryn. “I know you. We had geography together!”
“You guys go to Woodsboro High too? Maybe Clark went to the bonfire for help. You’re going, right?”
Steve and Hank respond in unison. “What bonfire?”
7. “Let’s Dance” by The Ramones
By the flicker of firelight Kathryn makes a beeline to Tobe and Robin through throngs of dancing teens with Steve trailing closely behind her and Hank makes his way to the kegs on the other side of the party. Tobe’s square-body pickup sits close to the fire blasting tunes. When she gets to the Chevy she can’t help but notice the CB radio mounted on the dashboard and gets right up in Robin and Tobe’s faces with her hands on her hips to show that she means business. “Have you seen Clark?”
Robin shrugs with an impish chuckle and Tobe spits up his beer with a guilty chortle and asks “Wasn’t he with you?”
Kathryn slaps Tobe’s chest playfully but still quite hard. “I know you jerks are trying to scare me!”
Robin springs to his friend's defense like the loyal lineman he is. “Hey, relax. We were gonna scare you but Clark pussed out. He never gave us the signal on Channel 7!” Tobe flips on the CB to Channel 7 broadcasting static with intermittent reports of traffic from truckers and reaches into the bed of his truck and tosses three Silver Shamrock skull masks at Kathryn’s feet. Steve picks up one of the masks to examine when Hank arrives with three precariously balanced beers in red plastic Solo cups.
“Oops.” The tall brunette girl with the shag haircut bumps into Hank spilling the beers all over Kathryn and Steve. “Oh, sorry Kath!” The girl with the shag says sarcastically and stumbles off. Steve awkwardly attempts to brush the beer off Kathryn’s legs until she shoos him away.
Hank stares starry-eyed at the brunette. “Who was that?”
Tobe puts his arm around Hank. “That was Clark’s old girlfriend. He dated her before Kathryn here.” Kathryn glares at Tobe in annoyance. Tobe gives Kathryn a wink but tries to make nice. “Wait here, I’ll get y’all fresh beers. Be right back.”
8. “Let There Be Rock” by AC/DC
Tobe makes his way to the kegs where he hears the thunderous honk of a pneumatic air horn emanating from the top of the clearing and heralding a parochial apocalypse for partygoers. Back at the Chevy, Kathryn hears the static of CB cut with that familiar sinister snicker. The black and blood-splattered Ghostface truck turns on its headlights illuminating the bacchanal and burns rubber towards the bonfire accompanied by a chorus of screams from the revelling teens. Before Tobe can get through the panicked mob he along with multiple merrymakers are mowed down by the intimidating ghostly grille. Knocked to the ground, Tobe is abraded to oblivion by commercial truck treads splashing his flesh over the few fortuitous to flee the frenzy.
The speedy semi slams into the party pyre sending flaming debris in multiple directions creating a pyroclastic flow that envelopes the teeming teens as well as Tobe’s truck. Crashing into the Chevy sends it sandwiching Robin against a sequoia, bisecting him, and the open car door knocking Hank to the ground.
A huge blazing log is torpedoed directly at Kathryn. Luckily for her, Steve pushes Kathryn out of peril only to find himself impaled by the alight lumber with a crackle of bone and burning wood. Steve locks eyes with Kathryn, mouth agape discharging a deluge of blood, and falls to his knees, still gripping the skull mask tightly. Kathryn surveys the scene to see all the blood, fire, and carnage amidst a cavalcade of terrified shrieks. A whoosh of flame engulfs the cabin of the semi truck and after a few moments of fire lapping at the fuel tanks, the tractor-trailer explodes.
9. “Take A Chance On Me” by ABBA
Hank finds himself laying in the grass with a high pitch squealing in his ears. After a few moments of writhing in dirt, he notices the sleeve of his jean jacket is on fire. Already stopped and dropped, he decides to complete the safety etiquette triumvirate and rolls to snuff the flames. Still smoldering, Hank lays on his back and watches smoke and embers float up into the night sky until the ringing in his ears subsides.
After what seemed like an eternity of staring into the infinite blackness of space and listening to the pop and crackle of flames, that brunette with a shag haircut creeps into Hank’s view and holds out her right hand. After a deep breath he reaches up to grasp it only to have her fall upon him and press her lips into his. “Sorry.” She whispers while tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “There’s just really nothing like a kiss after a near death experience."
With Hank stammering and struggling to respond, he hears Kathryn’s anguished wail so he scrambles to his feet. He rushes to Kathryn with the girl with the shag haircut scooping up her leather bowler bag and following closely behind him. The pair arrive at the side of the whimpering woman to see the shocking sight of the skewered Steve.
After a few moments Kathryn speaks through choked back tears. “W-w-we need to get him help.” Hank just shakes his head as his own eyes well up. Kathryn sniffs, nods, and grabs Hank by the sleeve. “Then for everyone else.” Kathryn pulls at the sleeve of Hank’s jean jacket but he remains unmoved. She sees that the girl with the shag haircut is constricted around Hank’s other arm clutching her bowler bag.
“Don’t be greedy, Kath.” She hisses. “I want this one now. You’ve already got a boyfriend… so you take him. The girl with the shag reaches into her bowler bag and pulls out the severed head of Clark with a spiteful sneer. “Are you scared yet?”
10. “Rip Her To Shreds” by Blondie
Both Kathryn and Hank howl in horror. Hank wrenches his arm away from the brunette and he and Kathryn run through the wreckage of the bonfire towards the woods. “That’s fine!” The girl calls out. “Your team can hide,” she holds the decapitated head of Clark close to her face before stuffing it back in her bowler bag. “We’ll seek.” She proceeds to pull a Buck knife out of her boot and skips after Hank and Kathryn.
Limbs burning, sweat dripping, and breathing labored, Hank and Kathryn run through the woods. Any break in their bolting to catch their breath is brimming with bewilderment as every scurry or squeal is a suggestion of their sociopathic stalker. “Who is she?” Hank finally asks while attempting to catch his wind.
Kathryn is panting in between sentences. “She was Clark’s psycho ex. Been stalking and prank calling me. Everyone thought it was just a joke but nobody listens and now they're all dead!” Kathryn notices light breaching through the trees in front of them. They rush forward to find themselves peering at the truck stop.
“Maybe someone can help us!” Hank runs towards the desolate looking truck stop. Only one truck appears to be pulling out and Hank thinks he sees them using their CB radio but he doesn’t get to the truck stop fast enough to stop them. As Kathryn joins him under the fluorescent lights they both hear someone else tromping through the woods behind them
“Oh Scaredy-Kaaaaath. Is that you?”
Kathryn grabs Hank by the wrist and they run into the lady’s bathroom. After eyeing the row of stalls Kathryn formulates a plan. “You take that stall, and I’ll take this one. If she breaks into one, then other person still has the chance to run.” Hank nods and they take their positions, him in the last stall and Kathryn in the second to last one. Hank follows Kathryn’s lead and stands on the toilet in hopes of concealing their presence.
Suddenly they hear the bathroom door kicked open followed by the clomp of heavy boots. Kathryn and Hank flinch with the sound of every stall pushed ajar and the subsequent stomps heading ever closer. Finally the boots arrive in front of Kathryn’s stall and kick in her door.
“Freeze!” A Woodsboro police officer is glaring with his gun drawn. “Kathryn Ann Hooper?” Kathryn nods shakily. The cop calls it in on his Convertacom portable radio. “Step out of the stall with your hands up, you’re under arrest.”
11. “Ghost Rider” by Suicide
“What?” Kathryn is flustered but complies, acquiescing her wrist for the trooper’s handcuff without resistance. “We received a tip via CB radio that you may have harmed your boyfriend, Clark Roberts.” Before the cop can cuff Kathryn’s other wrist, the bathroom door is kicked open by the brunette who bowls Clark’s head into the bathroom landing face up between the suspect and arresting officer. Then the girl with the shag haircut lobs her Buck knife into the chest of the lawman causing him to drop his firearm.
Kathryn screams, scrambles for the service revolve on the slick tile floor and fires twice at the brunette who ducks behind the heavy bathroom door. Kathryn tries to help the officer but the seven inch blade is embedded too deeply with the handle too slick with blood. Kathryn bellows a battlecry and chases after her assailant. Hank emerges from his hiding spot and follows suit. Outside the bathroom a trucker is curled up in a ball but the brunette is nowhere to be seen. Kathryn and Hank run past the terrified trucker to the deputy’s police cruiser only to find the sidewalls of all four tires slashed and the CB radio busted.
“We’re sitting ducks out here!” Hank points to the truck stop’s convenience store and Kathryn runs for the door only to find it locked. The employee working the counter locked the store down after hearing gunshots.
“Help us!” Kathryn cries banging the handle of the pistol on the glass door causing it to crack but not break.
Hank browses the building. “The roof!” Kathryn scales the building first and then reaches down to help Hank only to be bludgeoned by the trucker Damien’s prosthetic hook. Blood poured from Kathryn’s temple. The girl with the shag haircut rears up to strike again but Kathryn springs to tackle her. The two women roll on the roof, a whirlwind of flailing fists and feet. The deputy’s revolver skitters across the rooftop gravel and lands in front of Hank as he finally pulls himself on top of the building. The girls separate, look at Hank, and then the gun. He dives atop it, takes aim, and fires. The prosthetic hook drops. Kathryn has an expression of bafflement and betrayal as a sanguine spot spreads across her shirt with red and blue police lights illuminating the predawn blue.
12. “Easy” by The Commodores
Hank is discussing the night’s events with a few police officers, a trucker, and the truck stop convenience store clerk while the girl with the shag haircut is sitting in the back of the squad car attempting to gauge how the conversation is going but the stern jaws and side-eyed glances of law enforcement are traditionally hard to read. Hank nods and is escorted to the squad car where he is seated beside the brunette girl. “So, um, what did you say?” She whispered worriedly.
“I told them it was a classic case of a shy, socially ostracized teenager who wrought bloody vengeance on her bullying classmates. ‘If they only knew she had the power.’ Kathryn that is. I said I was just protecting my girlfriend from her rampage. She chopped her boyfriend’s head off, you know? Hank Loomis, by the way." Hank extends his right hand for a shake.
“Nancy.” She smiles and tucks some strands of hair behind her ear with a smile. “Nancy Lenz. Not to sound ungrateful but… why?”
Hank just shrugs with a bashful blush. “They broke the rules. If this was a horror movie they’d have to die. Me, I sorta like being scared.” Nancy intertwines her fingers with Hank’s and they kiss as the squad car drives off into the breaking dawn.
So there you have it! The tale, tunes, and trucker-tinged terror of my theoretical SCREAM ‘77! What did you think? Pretty scary stuff, huh? I mean not as scary as production companies performing as propagandizers for global genocides, but you get the idea. Sorry about getting Funyuns® dust all over you. This sure is a long bus ride, am I right? Oh, is this your stop?
