Editorials
What Do Current American Political Values Have In Common With the ‘Saw’ Franchise?
You might wonder how a guy plans out, gets the materials for, and constructs a chair that scalps you to death and still believes he’s doing the right thing over the course of the 2 months it would take to do that; you might also wonder why you still like him for it. But Jigsaw, his origins and motivations, are something American horror audiences have been taught to engage with positively for years now, not just from when they started watching horror movies, but from a very young age. I believe their philosophy and approach to justice is why the Saw movies make up the most politically American franchise in all of horror.
Jigsaw, John Kramer’s Jigsaw specifically, is a wonderfully controversial character.
Opinions on him are heavily polarized: you either think he’s a complete crackpot with a flawed moral compass and horrible methods (hey, that’s me!), or you think he’s a justified if not profoundly broken person who targets flawed individuals and genuinely believes he’s doing the right thing (hey, maybe that’s you!). Either way, as horror fans you still kind of love him, and you still definitely love the Saw movies.
You might wonder how a guy plans out, gets the materials for, and constructs a chair that scalps you to death and still believes he’s doing the right thing over the course of the 2 months it would take to do that; you might also wonder why you still like him for it. But Jigsaw, his origins and motivations, are something American horror audiences have been taught to engage with positively for years now, not just from when they started watching horror movies, but from a very young age. I believe their philosophy and approach to justice is why the Saw movies make up the most politically American franchise in all of horror.
Through its view of a flawed America, to the man who thinks he can solve it by tying people to killing machines, to his disciples, to the very origins of the series itself and the political climate it came out in. Through and through, Saw is an excessive, torturous vision of American political ideology and the concept of the American man (or American woman, or American corrupt cop who basically turns into the Terminator by Saw 3D depending on what you identify as).
And I don’t mean this in the sense of that old joke that the Saw movies couldn’t happen in Europe because Jigsaw’s preventative healthcare would have caught the cancer early, and his wife wouldn’t have miscarried in that clinic robbery because she would have been on extended maternity leave. When I say the Saw movies are about American political ideology and the potential of the American person, I’m talking about the sense of American individualism we are all taught to identify with; and more specifically, Jigsaw’s individualistic philosophy as a response to a broken America.
THE POST-9/11 HORROR OF SAW
To talk about Saw, we have to start at the spawning ground of the political climate that Saw came out of and why people identify with it so much. Isaac Feldberg of Paste Magazine, among many other film scholars, posits that the Saw movies were an artistic release of distress in the face of the 9/11 terror attacks and the subsequent ‘war on terror’ the Bush administration and its political cohorts waged in the Middle East. It saw an unprecedented paradigm shift in the media, including publicizing images of torture out of Abu Ghraib and associated sites, that may have made fictional torture palatable in comparison to the real suffering audiences were now being exposed to by a 24/7 media cycle intent on shocking you to the core and capitalizing on your fears.
The Saw films became laughably more insane as things went on so it’s easy to forget, but the first film was mostly grounded (if you ignore a terminal cancer patient laying on the ground shock still for more than a day). It focused on unrelenting psychological and physical torture and, more importantly, on the idea of being surveilled by an unseen force and monitored closely, all in the name of making the world a better place and improving the lives of its citizens no matter how brutal you had to be to do that.
For many of us growing up and finding our sense of self in a post-9/11, post-Patriot Act world where that sense of surveillance heightened to another level, our identity as Americans became much more challenging to grapple with than previous generations. Saw ended up being weirdly poignant on a thematic level when it wasn’t busy making people chop off their own hands to fill a meat bucket to unlock a door. It resonates even today as bipartisan politics do little to elevate the most disenfranchised among us.
So, with all of this resonance and as fun as the films were on a surface level, its often yearly release became a beloved Halloween pastime, and the creation of James Wan and Leigh Whannell quickly became a genre staple. But this still doesn’t answer: it is entertaining and close to home, but why are Jigsaw’s motives so compelling to so many people outside of that entertainment?
NEW: JIGSAW BRAND AMERICAN INDIVIDUALISM!
The Saw series is in many ways an offshoot of one of my favorite film subgenres, despite not being an action film. I’m talking about the vigilante films of the 70s and 80s, films like Death Wish, the crux of which intersects critiquing the American legal system’s failures with a literally and figuratively violent sense of individualism. The idea that any one person, no matter what walk of life you come from or political party you identify with, can do what the system isn’t willing to do. You are special! You can take out the morally wrong scum one bullet at a time! If you are sad and have a gun, you are ontologically good! Kill your sadness with firearms!
This message is of course far from intersectional, or logical, or even acknowledging of how the world actually works; it doesn’t address the systemic issues that cause random acts of violence and the destruction of low-income communities that allows violent and unstable individuals to be formed as people. It is all about using violence to solve the world’s ills, trying to force simple solutions onto complex issues. And they’re just films, but films can do two major things: popularize ideas, and impact other films.
Stefan Kriek, a lecturer at the University of Johannesburg, writes about the political liberalism of the Saw films in terms of the rampant individualism running through these movies. He touches in his article, “Saw: Liberalism’s Favorite Franchise”, on how the various Jigsaws have had a pretty unfortunately consistent record of targeting drug addicts, reducing the impetus of their addiction to unfortunate personal choice and moral failings on the individual level. The most famous example is Amanda Young, the second and arguably favorite of all the Jigsaws. Not only someone struggling with addiction, but with self-harm, who dies as a result of breaking her promises to John Kramer and rigging the tests to fail in Saw 3. She jumps ship on the individualistic ideas of Jigsaw, and is punished for it.
On an actual, textual, in-universe level, Jigsaw’s philosophy is a panacea that makes its users better. Jigsaw is the antidote to the ills of bad individuals because the ones who take up the mantle and follow the rules of the game are the “best” individuals: they possess almost unlimited funds to operate, have near superhuman prowess with machinery and medicine, and some even display raw physical capability. Most importantly, they employ a sense of uniquely punitive American justice that considers extreme physical and mental trauma as the one-size-fits-all rehabilitation program. It even works, considering Saw 3D heavily implies that a bunch of trap survivors become apprentices to Doctor Gordon, donning pig masks and becoming Jigsaws themselves. They conquer their demons, and can now help spread Jigsaw brand American individualism to others, one trap at a time.
Consider then the most hated character in the Saw franchise. Not Hoffman, the murderous cop boogeyman who disgraces the legacy of Jigsaw and eventually gets punished for it (a fitting example of how it’s not John Kramer’s ethos that ruins things, but people failing to live up to the code that do so). No, the most hated is Jeff Denlon from Saw III. He is everything the Jigsaws are not: mindlessly angry and ungrateful, failing to save others, impulsive, and depicted as slovenly even by trap victim standards. Fans of the franchise hate Jeff, mostly because by the third film, Jigsaw hits a turning point and begins to be coded as an anti-hero by the filmmakers, and by proxy the audience.
Jeff is the most unlikable character because he is portrayed as a villain against the power of Jigsaw the individual, despite being understandable in his misery. And by the time Jeff kills John, it is ultimately a meaningless effort; Jigsaw has ascended to immortality, through his apprentices and his worldview. John Kramer becomes a household name, with a considerable number of civilian fans as seen in Jigsaw.
Though Saw X is chronologically the second film in the franchise, it is the teleological endpoint of the series as the latest film; it’s a full-on vigilante chase into Mexico where Jigsaw constructs his most elaborate ruse yet to punish a ring of medical scammers with brain surgery puzzles and giant radiation machines. He even walks off into the sunset like a cowboy riding out of the western, with a kind of found family. Jigsaw and company go on to take on abusers, cheaters, racists, scammers, the entire privatized healthcare system, other corrupt cops, and anyone and everyone who opposes their specific cure-all or fails their tests. Nothing is too big for the individual to tackle when they live and die by John Kramer’s (saw)blade.
THE POLITICAL MYTH OF JIGSAW
So ultimately, what is Jigsaw when all is said and done? Political scientist and author Alex Zakaras extensively writes about the origins of American individualism, and he views the growth of the ideology as being tied to political myths. Political myths, he says, are how we decipher and simplify the diverse nature of modern politics. One such myth, Zakaras sites, is “the self-made man”:
“For over two hundred years, this myth has taught us that our country is uniquely fluid and classless and that individuals invariably get ahead through hard work, ingenuity, and perseverance. It tells us, moreover, that Americans are a bold and enterprising people with the resolve and self-discipline to chart their own course in the world.”
Jigsaw is the fictional extension of the self-made man myth, but taken to the extreme. He says you can singlehandedly escape not only your circumstances, but take down all opposition, no matter how large. It’s not false that people can make something great of themselves through perseverance, but Jigsaw is a warped embodiment of this idea. It is the kind of thing you imagine as a child, one person saving the world from itself, ignoring all the circumstantial factors and context you operate in.
In a nation where most people are sick of being disappointed by systems with feet of clay, run by disappointing politicians around them (ones who are sometimes flawed and other times outright dangerous), it isn’t hard to understand why the idea of Jigsaw can be entertaining or empathized with. Jigsaw can be captivating philosophically when you’ve been taught that the individual, not the collective, is the solution to your problems. And if you find yourself unlearning that instinct, Jigsaw as an idea becomes more absurd than any traps or surface-level motivations you ascribe to him.
No one person, not even yourself, is going to save you.
In unprecedented times like these, you need to find community and help one another. You need to put your faith in mutual aid and learning from one another, because the system is certainly not set up for one vigilante to knock it down. Under this lens, the Saw movies really have become something more than the “torture porn” early critics derided them as: they have become, whether intentionally or accidentally, pure cinematic Americana. And in that Americana, an accidental lesson on putting your faith in others instead of ideas.
There are only so many times I can get away with burying the lede with an editorial headline before someone throws a rock at me. It may or may not be justified when they do. This article is not an attempt at ragebaiting Scream fans, I promise. Neither was my Scream 3 article, which I’m still completely right about.
I do firmly believe that Scream 2 is, at the very least, the last Scream film I’d want to watch. But what was initially just me complaining about a film that I disregard as the weakest entry in its series has since developed into trying to address what it does right. You’ve heard of the expression “jack of all trades, master of none”, and to me Scream 2 really was the jack of all trades of the franchise for the longest time.
It technically has everything a Scream movie needs. Its opening is great, but it’s not the best of them by a long shot. Its killers are unexpected, but not particularly interesting, feeling flat and one-dimensional compared to the others. It has kills, but only a few of them are particularly shocking or well executed. It pokes fun at the genre but doesn’t say anything particularly bold in terms of commentary. Having everything a Scream movie needs is the bare minimum to me.
But the question is, what does Scream 2 do best exactly? Finding that answer involves highlighting what each of the other sequels are great at, and trying to pick out what Scream 2 has that the others don’t.
Scream 3 Is the Big Finale That Utilizes Its Setting Perfectly
Scream as a series handily dodges the trap most horror franchises fall into: rehashing and retreading the same territory over and over. That’s because every one of its films are in essence trying to do something a little different and a little bolder.
Scream 3 is especially bold because it was conceived, written, and executed as the final installment in the Scream series. And it does that incredibly well. Taking the action away from a locale similar to Woodsboro, Scream 3 tosses our characters into the frying pan of a Hollywood film production. Despite its notorious number of rewrites and script changes (one of which resulted in our first solo Ghostface), it still manages to be a perfect culmination of Sidney Prescott’s story.
I won’t repeat myself too much (go read my previous article on the subject), but 3 is often maligned for as good a film as it turned out to be. And for all of its clunkier reveals, and its ghost mom antics, it understands how to utilize its setting and send its characters off into the sunset right.
Scream 4’s Meta Commentary Wakes Scream from a Deep Sleep
As Wes Craven’s final film, Scream 4 has a very special place in the franchise. It was and still is largely adored for bringing back the franchise from a deep 11-year sleep. With one of the craziest openings in any horror film, let alone a Scream film, it sets the tone for a bombastic return and pays off in spades with the journey it takes us on.
Its primary Ghostface Jill Roberts is a fan favorite, and for some people, she is the best to ever wear the mask. Its script is the source of many memorable moments, not the least of which is Kirby’s iconic rapid-fire response to the horror remakes question. And most importantly, it makes a bold and surprisingly effective return for our main trio of Sidney, Dewey, and Gale, whose return didn’t feel trite or hammy when they ended up coming back to Woodsboro for more.
Craven’s work on 4 truly understands the power its predecessors had exerted on the horror genre, both irreverent in its metacommentary and celebratory of the Scream series as a whole. The film is less of a love letter to the genre and more of a kicking down of the door to remind people what Scream is about. 4’s story re-established that Scream isn’t going away, no matter how long it takes for another film, and no matter how many franchises try to take its place.
Scream 5 & 6 Is Radio Silence’s Brutal and Bloody Attitude Era
Put simply, Scream 5 and 6’s strong suit was not its characters. It was not its clever writing. The Radio Silence duology in the Scream series excelled in one thing: beating the hell out of its characters.
Wrestling fans (of which there is an unsurprising amount of crossover with horror fans) will know why I call it the Attitude Era. Just like WWE’s most infamous stretch of history, Radio Silence brought something especially aggressive to their entries. And it’s because these films were just brutal. Handing the reins to the series, Bettinelli-Olpin and Gillet gifted a special kineticism to the classic Scream chase sequences, insane finales, and especially its ruthless killers.
All five of the Ghostfaces present in 5 and 6 are the definition of nasty. They’re unrelenting, and in my humble opinion, the freakiest since the original duo of Stu Macher and Billy Loomis. Getting to hear all the air get sucked out of the room as Dewey is gutted like a fish in 5 was still an incredible moment to experience in theatres, and it’s something I don’t think would have happened if the films were any less mean and any less explosively violent.
So, What Does Scream 2 Do Best Exactly?
So now, after looking at all these entries and all of their greatest qualities, what does Scream 2 have that none of the others do? What must I concede to Scream 2?
Really great character development.
Film is a medium of spectacle most of the time, and this is reflected in how we critique and compliment them. It affects how we look back on them, sometimes treating them more harshly than they deserve because they don’t have that visual flash. But for every ounce of spectacle Scream 2 lacks, I have to admit, it does an incredible job of developing Sidney Prescott as a character.
On a rare rewatch, it’s clear Neve Campbell is carrying the entirety of Scream 2 on her back just because of how compelling she makes Sidney. Watching her slowly fight against a tide of paranoia, fear, and distrust of the people around her once more, watching her be plunged back into the nightmare, is undeniably effective.
It’s also where Dewey and Gale are really cemented as a couple, and where the seeds of them always returning to each other are planted. Going from a mutual simmering disrespect to an affectionate couple to inseparable but awkward and in love is just classic; two people who complete each other in how different they are, but are inevitably pulled back and forth by those differences, their bond is one of the major highlights throughout the series.
Maybe All the Scream Films Are Just Good?
These three characters are the heart of the series, long after they’ve been written out. I talk a big game about how Scream 3 is the perfect ending for the franchise, but I like to gloss over the fact that Scream 2 does a lot of the legwork when it comes to developing the characters of Dewey, Gale, and especially Sidney.
Without 2, 3 just isn’t that effective when it comes to giving Sidney her long deserved peace. Without 2, the way we see Sidney’s return in 4 & 5 doesn’t hit as hard. All of the Scream movies owe something to Scream 2 in the same way they owe something to the original Scream. I think I’ve come to a new point of view when it comes to the Scream franchise: maybe there is no bad entry. Maybe none of them have to be the worst. Each one interlinks with the others in their own unique way.
And even though I doubt I will ever really love Scream 2, it has an undeniable strength in its character writing that permeates throughout the whole franchise. And that at the very least keeps it from being the worst Scream film.
I’m going to begin this conversation with a sort of insane thought. Halloween as a franchise maybe should have ended with its first film.
That’s not to say there’s no value in the Halloween films. Much to the contrary, I like the first three films a lot. I recommend Halloween 3: Season of the Witch to people an annoying amount; I even try to watch it a few times every October to keep the vibes up. And as you already know from clicking on this article, I enjoy Halloween H20: 20 Years Later quite a bit.
I’ve even softened up on the Rob Zombie remake duology over the years. I don’t like them, but it’s like getting flowers, I can still appreciate them. However, Halloween, as a series, has long suffered from its own success. And sometimes, it feels like it’s just going to keep suffering.
HALLOWEEN’S FIRST BOLD CHOICE AFTER 16 YEARS OF WAITING
It’s easy to forget that John Carpenter’s original Halloween was effectively the Paranormal Activity of its time. Flipping a cool $70 million and change off of a $300,000 budget, it has had a genuinely immeasurable impact on the cinematic landscape and how horror films are made.
For some, that’s a bad thing. Notoriously, my beloved 3rd entry in the franchise was considered a hard misstep by audiences. Everyone knows the story; the resounding “Where’s Michael?” response to the third entry gunned down Carpenter’s desires to turn Halloween into an anthology series. So, after going into hiding for 5 years, Halloween 4 continued the story of Michael in 1988.
And then it just kept going.
As the years went on, it became progressively harder and harder to innovate, resulting in some very odd plotlines and tones. Which is why Halloween H20 is where the franchise peaked. Because it had a rare essence to it. It had guts.
It was willing to actually kill the series once and for all, even if it was impossible to do so.
EVIL DOESN’T DIE TONIGHT, THE CONTRACT SAYS SO
Before David Gordon Green’s reboot trilogy brought Laurie back as a Sarah Connor style badass, H20’s pre-production had reinvented Strode to usher in the 20th anniversary of the first film. She went from a resilient young woman into a traumatized survivor running from her past.
The original concept for Halloween H20 involved a substance abusing Laurie Strode trying to get clean so she could die with dignity against an escaped Michael. In a turn of events, she would find the will to live and kill him once and for all. It was a concept Jamie Lee Curtis was passionate about, understandably so. Laurie wasn’t the first final girl, but she was the codifier for that ideal, in a way Jess Bradford and Sally Hardesty before her weren’t. It would have made for a harrowing exploration of what was debatably the most important final girl ever.
That isn’t what happened.
There is an infamous video from a Q&A panel with Jamie Lee Curtis where she explains that the blame for Michael surviving H20 lies primarily with one man: the late great Moustapha Akkad. Akkad was famous for his business acumen, but that desire to see the Halloween franchise make bankroll had ultimately stolen away Laurie’s triumphant victory over Michael.
You see, Akkad had written a clause into the contracts surrounding the film. A clause that she could not, in no uncertain terms, kill Michael Myers. Michael would live, no matter what Laurie did. But thanks to the meddling mind of Scream creator Kevin Williamson, who had been brought on to work on the screenplay for H20, Laurie did get her vengeance in a way.
LAURIE STRODES RETURN DONE RIGHT
The actual H20 follows Laurie Strode in hiding years after Halloween 2, ignoring the events of the sequels. She’s the headmistress of a boarding school, living under a fake name far from Haddonfield with her son. But still, she can’t let go of that Halloween night. She sees Michael’s face, The Shape, everywhere. She can barely stomach talking about what happened. But when Michael kills Dr. Loomis, nurse Marion Chambers, and then finds her, Laurie is forced to face her greatest fear once and for all.
And she does. After a prolonged chase and fight on the grounds of the school, she refuses to let a wounded Michael be taken into custody. Stealing a cop’s gun and an ambulance, Laurie runs Michael off a cliff and pins him against a tree with the vehicle. She shares a brief moment with him, inscrutable eyes reflecting Michael’s. They could be expressing a number of possible emotions. Is it empathy? Hatred? Pity? Fear leaving her for the final time?
Regardless of what it is, she’s done feeling it. With a hefty swing, she decapitates him with a fire axe, ending Michael for the last time. It’s over.
Roll credits. Audience cheers. The world is healing.
AND THEN HALLOWEEN: RESURRECTION HAPPENS
Yes, and then Halloween: Resurrection happens. Laurie is killed in the first few minutes, revealing that Michael pulled the old bamboozle switcheroonie in the previous film. She had actually just killed an ambulance driver that Michael had put the mask on. Williamson’s trick of making both Laurie and the audience believe they had killed Michael worked. But that same trick curled a finger on the monkey’s paw and led to what is definitively the worst film in the franchise.
A proto-internet streamer subplot. The kid from Smart House is there for some reason. Busta Rhymes hits Michael Myers with the Charlie Murphy front kick from that one Dave Chappelle sketch about Rick James.
Roll credits. The audience boos. Everyone who spent money on it feels like they’re being stamped to death by horses.
HALLOWEEN AS A FRANCHISE IS TERRIFIED OF ENDINGS
And this is why I say that Halloween H20 is probably the best we’re going to get out of the series, maybe ever. It is a series that, at its core, has had producers terrified of endings since even Halloween 2. Carpenter never intended there to be a sequel, or any follow ups for that matter. That was mostly the work of producer Irwin Yablans, who pushed hard to continue the story of Michael. And then, eventually, it was the work of every other producer who demanded they milk Halloween for all its worth.
H20 is a film that is antithetical to that idea. When watched as intended, ignoring Resurrection, it’s fantastic. As the end of Laurie and Michael’s story, one that shows evil is weak without fear to bolster it, it is pretty much the perfect finale. Hot off the heels of Scream’s success in 1996, H20 is often talked about as an attempt to cash in on the meta-horror craze of the 90s and early 2000s. The way people discuss it, you would think it was supposed to be a tongue-in-cheek slasher that made fun of itself and Halloween’s legacy. But in reality, aside from its humor, it ends up being quite reflective and thoughtful of that legacy.
It’s not spiteful of the films that came before it because it ends by tricking the audience. It’s what that trick represents, boldly spitting in the eye of Halloween being held prisoner for money. Mocking Halloween being stuck in an eternal cycle of rinsing and repeating the same events. It doesn’t care about franchising or longevity; it cares about telling a good story and letting its hero rest. It’s respectful to Carpenter’s creation in a way that other attempts to continue the series simply weren’t.
H20 TELLS AN ENDING, HALLOWEEN ENDS TRIES TO SELL YOU ONE
It begs the question: why does H20 work here in how it ends the series, but Halloween Ends doesn’t?
All of Ends biggest issues stem from the fact that, unlike H20, it’s trying to sell you an ending instead of making one that feels right. The maudlin closer it gives doesn’t feel real. It doesn’t feel true to the Laurie it shows us, or any other iteration of the character for that matter. It doesn’t feel genuinely emotional in any regard.
And that’s because Ends as a whole doesn’t have the spirit that H20 does. Ends is, first and foremost, a highlight reel reminding you of how cool Halloween is instead of understanding why any of its previous entries were effective. From its marketing to its incredibly clunky climax, it feels like it’s an advertisement for never letting go of Halloween, even when it should have been done a while ago. And that’s just the wrong lesson to leave on.
JANET LEIGH’S CAMEO IN H20 SPEAKS VOLUMES
Halloween H20 has a pretty famous cameo from Janet Leigh in it, an OG scream queen and the real-life mother of Jamie Lee Curtis. In it, they have a heart-to-heart as fictional characters Laurie Strode and Norma Watson. It’s made more impactful when you realize it was Leigh’s penultimate film performance, and her final performance in a horror film.
The moment serves as a cute in-joke on their real-life relationship, but more than that, it foreshadows the film’s ending. Norma urges Laurie to move past her fear, to relish her future as a survivor instead of being caught up in the past and reliving the same night over and over again.
I find this scene even more poignant now, seeing how neatly it reflects on what has happened to Halloween as a franchise in the years since the original, and especially since H20. It’s a series that got stuck in trying to continue the same story and just got progressively worse at it. In some way, it feels like it’s urging us to make a choice. No matter how deep a legacy of fear may be, it must come to an end at some point. There is no need to cling to the same stories over and over. We can enjoy them for what they are without returning to them.
No matter what the future of the Halloween franchise is, only a viewer themselves can choose where the story ends. It doesn’t matter how many times the studio brings him back, you have to make the choice. Only you decide when it ends. And for my money, H20 is the best ending you can ask for.
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