Review #37 I KNOW WHAT YOU DID LAST SUMMER (1997, Jim Gillespie)

 

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Four young friends are stalked by a hook-wielding maniac a year after killing a man in a road accident (or at least they thought he was dead …)

Starring  Jennifer Love Hewitt, Sarah Michelle Gellar, Ryan Phillippe, Freddie Prinze Jr, Bridgette Wilson

Written by  Kevin Williamson

Produced by  Neal H Moritz, Erik Feig, Stokely Chaffin

Duration  101 minutes

I have a soft spot for slasher movies. I would call them a guilty pleasure, if I'd ever felt guilty about watching one.

Although the first genuine slasher was BLACK CHRISTMAS four years prior, the genre’s golden period began in 1978 when HALLOWEEN became the highest-grossing independent movie of all time. The imitators came thick and fast; some holiday-season-based, some not. A NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET birthed a worthwhile franchise; FRIDAY THE 13TH’s results were more mixed. Various standalones clambered above the pack: let me direct you towards HELL NIGHT, THE BURNING, BLOOD RAGE, SLEEPAWAY CAMP, MY BLOODY VALENTINE and THE SLUMBER PARTY MASSACRE.

Now, here's the thing. These are the years those six films I just listed were released: 1981, 1981, 1987, 1983, 1981 (again!) and 1982.

Notice a pattern? Sheer unabashed '80-ness is big factor in slasher success. More than a couple of years back into the previous decade, you get '70s grittiness – good in its own way, but a different proposition. And stepping forward lands you slap bang in the mire of '90s blandness, where something that would have been a delicious cheesefest 10 years before ends up being completely tasteless (but not in the good way). 

Yes, by the mid ’90s, the slasher was well and truly on its last mutilated legs, clogged up with inferior HALLOWEEN and HELLRAISER sequels and dire straight-to-video efforts. Then along came SCREAM in 1996 and a brief second-coming for the genre, with 1997’s I KNOW WHAT YOU DID LAST SUMMER one of the next out the traps.

LAST SUMMER has a screenplay by SCREAM’s Kevin Williamson, this time with the irony left out – unless you think it's ironic to be killed by someone who you thought you yourself had killed. (More like poetic justice – it’s a thin line.)

The movie does not inspire optimism by opening with a bombastic cliffside wave-crashing panorama set to a nu-metal cover of Seals & Crofts ‘Summer Breeze’. And things don’t improve any upon meeting the four leads. As soon as they open their mouths, out comes the tedious self-awareness and unrealistic verbosity Williamson’s teenagers were known for, an overwritten cadence that integrated itself into America’s film and TV landscape and can still be found today synthetically lengthening any number of Netflix original series. The ‘Williamson-ese’ here doesn't reach the painfully twee nadir of his show Dawson's Creek, but without something clever and substantial like SCREAM surrounding them, the characters sound empty and narcissistic. It's not uncommon to be hoping that the people you’re supposed to be rooting for in a slasher will be swiftly offed, but usually the viewer doesn't start praying for their deaths minutes into their introductory scene.

The worst offender is Ryan Phillippe, who spends the whole film either shouting or pouting. Does he feel left out as the only one of the central foursome who doesn't use their middle name? Or was he bitter from jealously watching FPJ chatting up SMG between takes while JLH was proving immune to his own charms? (Not to worry: he was about to meet Reese Witherspoon.)

To be fair, there are a couple of satisfying deaths, including Johnny Galecki taking a hook to the face in a scene that will elicit cheers from anyone who's ever accidently turned over to his perma-repeated TV hit The Big Bang Theory and been involuntarily exposed to that annoying squeaky voice. And Love Hewitt is a decent ‘final girl’, with her notorious ‘What are you waiting for?!’ scene giving us at least one pleasingly bonkers moment – but that just serves to emphasise how bang-average everything is around it.

The slasher renaissance briefly promised by LAST SUMMER barely lasted out the decade, and as the 20th Century lurched towards its close like Jason Voorhees with an arrow in his leg, horror veered instead towards found footage, thanks to THE BLAIR WITCH PROJECT channelling (the infinitely superior) CANNIBAL HOLOCAUST, before the grim likes of SAW and HOSTEL briefly popularised so-called ‘torture porn’.

So, in the end, the late ‘90s didn’t usher in a new wave of slasher classics after all. People only really remember this film because of how well it’s parodied in SCARY MOVIE.

It was probably for the best; some things are so much a product of their time that to attempt them again in a different era just leads to disaster. Or worse, a dullness that feels worse than death – by meat hook or otherwise.

But I will leave you on a more positive note: Christopher Landon's nu-slashers HAPPY DEATH DAY (2017), HAPPY DEATH DAY 2U (2019) and FREAKY (2020) are well worth your time.

Two stars out of five.

 

Valid use of the word ‘last’?  There were two sequels (coming soon, to a blog near you!), so clearly not.

What would a movie called I KNOW WHAT YOU DID FIRST SUMMER be about?  Most people’s first summers were spent lolling about in nappies and it’s hard to imagine what could possibly be worth knowing about that.

Previously:  THE LAST HORROR MOVIE 

Next time:  LAST TRAIN FROM GUN HILL  

Check out my books:  Jonathanlastauthor.com