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USA/France 1998
Reviewed by Kim Newman
Our synopses give away the plot in full, including surprise twists.
Pendleton University, New England. Student Michelle, driving home late, escapes from a stuttering gas-station manager. He is trying to warn her about the axe murderer hiding in the back seat of her car. News of her death spreads across campus, especially affecting her estranged friend Natalie who is taking Professor Wexler's course on urban legends. When Damon, a prank-playing friend, is murdered in front of Natalie in a re-enactment of an urban legend, she confides in fellow students Brenda, Parker, Sasha and Paul. Parker floats the theory that a serial killer is recreating urban legends.
Natalie's roommate Tosh is murdered, leaving the message "aren't you glad you didn't turn on the lights?" in blood, but the Dean writes her death off as suicide. Natalie confides in Brenda that she broke her friendship with Michelle after they played a prank based on an urban legend which resulted in a boy's death in a car accident. During a frat party, the killer murders the Dean, Parker and Sasha. Paul, Brenda and Natalie flee. Brenda and Natalie find Wexler's body in the trunk of Paul's car and run from him, but it is actually Brenda - the girlfriend of the boy Michelle and Natalie killed - who is the murderer. Paul and Natalie fight off Brenda, who falls into a river. Later, on another campus, Brenda listens as someone recounts the story of her murder spree as an urban legend.
Urban Legend calculatedly cross-breeds the youth-appeal of Wes Craven's Scream (especially the poster design), the novelty serial killer of Se7en, and the persecuted guilty-teens motif of I Know What You Did Last Summer. This yields a silly but not unlikable formula horror picture, one exactly like the wave of early 80s movies that were name-checked in Scream 2 (The Dorm that Dripped Blood, The House on Sorority Row, Graduation Day, Final Exam). Credibility is not a high priority. The guessable revelation of who the guilty party under the hooded parka is glosses the details. For instance, how does this killer get the first victim to make a late-night visit to an out-of-the-way gas station? How can he be sure the stuttering attendant will be unable to warn anyone? How can he swing an axe with killing force inside a small car? And how come the entire plot is directed at the less culpable Natalie rather than Michelle, initiator of the original incident?
The monomaniacal thesis, elaborated both by Robert Englund's blatant red-herring professor and wiseacre Parker, also stumbles because there aren't enough urban legends to go round. Despite references to the 'dog in the microwave' and the 'snack food and soda intestinal explosion' stories, the string of murders that clutters up the second half of the film are just stereotypical stalk-and-hack killings. Some key legends mentioned in the film ('dead granny on the roofrack', for example) are left out, and only a token stab is made at the 'call her name five times' tale, to avoid invoking memories of Candyman. That film was more sophisticated in its deployment of urban legends and was actually urban in setting. (Intriguingly, almost all the stories classed as urban legends take place on lonely roads or woods miles away from cities.)
Nevertheless, Urban Legend manages somehow to be rather endearing, from Natasha Gregson Wagner's opening bit (what must now, after Scream, be called 'the Drew Barrymore position') to the hokey shaggy-dog punchline. Alicia Witt, whose resemblance to Gillian Anderson is a short-term advantage but long-term handicap, is fine as the 'final girl', shouldering all the sensitivity while her friends carry on with the now-obligatory Scream-style callousness. (Best excuse for ignoring screams for help: "She's doing a performance piece to commemorate the massacre.") Lithium-chugging, pierced, goth Tosh breaks up the overwhelming preppiness of even the nastiest frat kids, and there's an amusingly transparent murder set-up scene as Damon drives Natalie out to the woods, pretending to be understanding in order to make out with her.
First-time director Jamie Blanks isn't in Wes Craven's league when it comes to timing a sudden lurch-into-the-frame shock, and writer Silvio Horta doesn't have Kevin Williamson's knack for referentially postmodern yet convincing teen talk, but this is a movie that follows rather than makes trends. It may well be most notable for echoing Halloween H20 by cementing the newest addition to the repertory of slasher clichés: the comic-relief black security guard - chubby middle-aged Loretta Devine, devoted to early 70s Pam Grier movies - can be killed but only if she turns out to be alive after all a few minutes later.