'I know what you did last summer': Jennifer Love Hewitt is back

“It's 1997 again. Isn't that nostalgic?” Freddie Prinze Jr. tells the companion of the Millennium Brequers Jennifer Love Hewitt in this adequately dumb resurrection of the Slasher B-Movie franchise “I know what you did last summer.” In the original 90s, based on the novel of young adults of the same name of Lois Duncan, Prinze and Hewitt played Ray and Julie, the only survivor of a teenage clique that accidentally crosses a stranger, hides the crime and then, a year later, he needs to flee a Avenger that changes the hook during the fourth weekend of July. Having supported that getaway and a sequel that persecuted them to the Bahamas, the duo is back for this target target for a new generation of homicidants. A mysterious murderer covered with waterproofs has a point where a message is stained in the blood: You cannot evade the past.

The five young people fleeing the inevitable are Ava sensato (Chase Sui wonders) and his ex Bland Boy Milo (Jonah Hauer-King), Daffy Blond Danica (Madelyn Cline) and his rich promised Teddy (Tyriq Withers) and Hard Luck Stevie (Sarah Pidgeon), who only left Rehab. A little older than their ancestors during their misfortune, everyone is just over 20 years old and launch their adult lives when they repeat the same deadly error on the same night, in the same section of the coastal road in Southport, North Carolina. Danica Gime, “It's called Reaper curve for a reason.”

The cheerful update of the director Jennifer Kaytin Robinson has some things, including low expectations. Co -written with former journalist Sam Lansky, this horror setback just wants to get some laughs in the mall, even breaking a joke on the beloved announcement of Nicole Kidman AMC. Robinson, who created MTV's “sweet/vicious” and has helped walk to a handful of other spongy amusements, is a promising ingenuity of corn palomites, skillfully ensuring that the tone is neither very sober nor too sarcastic. You don't feel that culprit that engulfs its empty calories.

Robinson seems to respect the first film as if he were adapting Proust. Maybe for people of a certain age who grew up seeing it in VHs at sleep parties, is His Madeleine. The script works in as many call returns as possible: spooky mannequins under plastic sheets, a sticky parade with giant fiberglass clams, Hewitt that shouts its memorable line: “What are you waiting for?” (And there is a great cameo that deserves to be a surprise). The gags feel more Klutzier when they point to the humor of the 21st century, for example, Hewitt drinking tea from a cup that reads “tears of the patriarchy.”

This last cast was born at the time of the massacre of the 90s and are oblivious to the murder for the murder to come. Callow Teddy even makes fun of the name in one of the tombs of dead children: “Barry Cox”, snacks. The powerful land developers such as Teddy's father (Billy Campbell) also buried information about previous attacks. Real estate forces and the local police department have invested a lot in the transformation of this blue collar fishing village into a Tony Beach complex. Even before the bodies strain on the dock as sharks, you are thinking that writers must also have excited their “Jaws” VHS tapes.

Av pragmatic and good heart is the moral center of the film, which makes it sufficiently disgusted to realize that she, her friends and the leadership of Southport are all CRETIS. Chase Sui Wonders has been strong in everything I have seen, I am seeing her career curious, even if here, she expresses her bad mood by changing her black to black green wardrobe. The former Milo of Ava looks like a role that should be equivalent to more than what he does. All you have to know about him is that he alleges working in politics and he and Ava have zero heat.

But we get to love the best friend of Ava, Danica, who becomes obvious death traps with fluctuate mules. She is a Magdalena, in this genre, a disposable delight, however, the way in which Madelyn Cline interprets her is fabulous. This bohemian is as superficial as they come, worried that stress is giving him alopecia and suggesting his professional empathy for guidance. (Danica also has a life coach, an energy healer and a psychic). With his soft cheeks and a voice of a crying and hoarse baby, it is surprising how much we attach to her. Grateful, Robinson also loves his characters and makes his screen time count instead of treating them as Fodder de Grindhouse, that kind of violent vaodevil where you cannot wait for the hook, drag someone screaming.

The strongest movement of the film is that we like it (and laugh at our victims. Almost all of them, except Milo, are interesting, especially a true crime podcasta called Tyler (Gabbriette Bechtel, a landscape panorama delight) that calls Southport's cover-up a case of “gentrifi-sulay-ttion”. When this masse Fangirl escort Ava to a historical scene of the murder and begins to unravel her top, you are convinced that she finds that all this bloodshed is turned on. Another objective, played by a Fratty Joshua Orpin, tries to bribe the murderer with cryptography.

Let's be sincere: none of these characters, past or present, would have grown to be rocket scientists. The original crossed his Gore scenes with a gloomy brutality, as if he were ashamed that they had to be done. Written by Kevin Williamson, the talent behind the intelligent “Scream” and the serious romance “Dawson's Creek”, could not capture the best elements of both. Robinson has more fun playing the executioner. Each death receives satisfactory accumulation; She is a skilled habit. A muscular child who has been pumping to defend himself leaves an excited war enthusiasm when it is finally time to fight for his life.

The score, the camera work and the edition are simply fine. They are not trying to focus on dialogue, which is really fun. (My favorite design option was the sound of the murderer's boots when they come to look for the coup d'etat). But the plot hardly keeps the pace. The characters roam the strange sections of time. Just when I thought things were losing steam, someone threatened in a real steam room.

Robinson is more interested in giving us with psychology than slopes. It is under palpable pressure to run a turn, so several scenes feel like a magician turning the wrong card to distract it from the right stuck in the sleeve. Do not buy the great revelation. However, the objection would seem as tweedy as arguing that the film is selling both nostalgia and annemia, a longing for an era that one never knew firsthand. This recycled garbage is not a treasure, but I bet that the majority of the audience of this remake will be young enough to find the Schlock in the style of the 90s.