White Woman in Trouble!
A pretty high school student, knowing the killer is close to
breaking through her bedroom door, calls 911 on her PC. Her
eyes wide and her heart pounding, she types in her message:
"White woman in trouble!" In an instant, her suburban
driveway is crowded with cruisers, sirens shrieking and
lights flashing, and her wouldabeen slayer is beating a
hasty retreat.
Most everyone watching this scene in Scary Movie will
recognize it as a riff on Scream, Wes Craven's 1996
slasher flick that riffed on previous slasher flicks,
including Craven's own Nightmare on Elm Street (1984),
which itself riffed on proto-slasher flicks like Hitchcock's
Psycho. The lineage of Scary Movie's Cindy Campbell
(Anna Faris) is built into her farcical existence. The Last
Girl character the one who survives the slasher's horrific
rampaging is typically a good girl, smart, self-conscious,
not necessarily asexual (like Halloween's Jamie Lee
Curtis) but at least virtuous, and somewhat "masculine" in
her fight-back abilities. Cindy is all this, but she has to
contend with more than just the monster. She also has to be
the straight woman to a crew of rakish pranksters: I can't
imagine what it was like to work with these guys.
On its surface, the film consists of a regular slasher plot.
But it's full of shifts and messes. Cindy's escape from the
black-robed, death-masked, generally silly monster involves
the usual dodging and outsmarting, plus the fact that she's
running through scenes borrowed from all kinds of movies.
Cindy performs and comments on the familiar role, the girl
in trouble. According to formula, the role is simultaneously
titillating, frightening, and moneymaking. All of the above
is multiplied exponentially, of course, if said girl is
wearing very little, say a bath-towel or wet underwear, like
Carmen Electra does while playing in "Drew" (as in
Barrymore) in Scary Movie's introductory homage. She gets
the phone call, pops the corn, cries and screams, runs
through the lawn sprinkler, and is, inevitably, brutally
slashed. In slow motion.
By turns brainy and banal, Scary Movie culls from the
sources you'd expect, including the Screams, the I Still
Know What You Did Last Summers, and Halloween: H20, and a
few you might not anticipate, like "feminine odor" and
"whassup" commercials, Mel Brooks, The Usual Suspects,
The Matrix, The Exorcist, The Sixth Sense, and
Dawson's Creek (James Van Der Beek makes one particularly
apposite appearance, crawling in through a window to the
tune of Paula Cole's by-now-royally-irritating "I Don't Want
To Wait"). While the attractive-white-teens-obsessing-about-
sex phenomenon has already come in for its share of
drubbing, the Wayans brothers Keenen directing and co-
writing, Marlon and Shawn co-writing and performing bring
something else to the table. First and most obviously, they
mix their typically upbeat parodies with a certain signature
yuckiness, previously and often brilliantly demonstrated in
their TV series In Living Color (which famously hatched
Jim Carrey), and the popular spoof-movies I'm Gonna Get You
Sucka and Don't Be a Menace to South Central While
Drinking Your Juice in the Hood. Moreover, the Wayans,
having some attitude concerning the world they live in, also
inject occasional social commentary, as for instance, in the
"white woman in trouble" scene. Or the scene drawn from
Scream 2 in which Omar Epps gets a knife in the head, as a
terrible punishment for trying to listen in on what sounds
like a sex act in a movie theater bathroom stall. In the
Scary Movie version, the knife is turned into a huge black
penis, which goes straight through an unfortunately curious
character's skull. In a word, nasty.
Still, the film's main interest lies in the yuckiness
sweepstakes, which continue to escalate in scope and
imagination. If the grand effrontery of American Pie, Tom
Green, and now Survivor, has taught us anything, it's that
the Farrelly brothers are not unique, only leading a pack.
Scary Movie, for all its Airplane!-derived goofball
humor, also delivers a requisite and near-daunting
raucousness. So, where some jokes are easy (the monster gets
stoned with some of the boys), others are off the scale.
Keenen and company (including co-writers Phil Beauman and
Jason Friedberg) take gags that have long since been done to
death into some other dimension. I mean, Squiggy the
Squiggy, from Laverne and Shirley is the high school
principal.
Moreover, the movie offers every flavor of disgusto joke:
phys-ed teacher Miss Mann's (Jane Trcka) saggy testicles
hang out from under her little pleated skirt (much to sweet
Cindy's discomfort); Drew's parents fail to save her because
they're too busy with a front-seat blowjob; and ruthless
reporter Gail Hailstorm (who has written a book called
You're Dead, I'm Rich and is played by the indefatigable
Cheri Oteri) comes in for an awful Blair-Witchy comeuppance,
following her repeated abuses of easy mark special ed
student Doofy (Dave Sheridan). Or again, Buffy (American
Pie's Shannon Elizabeth) takes part in a Titanic-themed
teen beauty pageant where contestants wear sashes
proclaiming them "Miss Thing" and "Miss Felatio." Not to
mention star footballer Ray (Shawn Wayans, and yes, he and
everyone else are too old to be in high school) is
effusively, "Men-on-Film"-ishly gay, neatly revising (by not
sidestepping) the violent homoerotics in Scream, or the
murder of a talky filmgoer by the entire audience, whose
members have grown impatient with her incessant sass. It's
some kind of bizarre icing on this cake that the scene takes
place in front of a screen showing Amistad 2, in which
Keenen Wayans makes a cameo appearance as a mightily pissed
off slave.
Because the movie doesn't really have a plot or characters
per se and adopts an explicit assault-on-all-icons approach,
it might appear to be as mindless as its targets. And it
would be easy to dismiss it as such. But this would sell
both Scary Movie and its targets short. Wes Craven has
famously observed that scary movies reveal and explore deep
cultural concerns, such as tensions between generations,
races, classes, and genders. It's clear that slasher flicks
especially appeal to young viewers not only because they
showcase nubile, anonymous, almost-always white teen bodies
being stalked and skewered, but because they act out in
comedic and self-admittedly titillating terms their real
feelings of disenfranchisement and alienation. Scary Movie
does all this and more, extremely.