Wes Craven returns to the franchise that resurrected his career, and this third sequel may be for him what Operation Shylock was for Philip Roth: a hall-of-mirrors narrative in which the artist tries to reconcile his artistic intentions with the misinterpretations of his most bloodthirsty fans. The burden of creative responsibility feels heavier here than in any of the previous installments, ditto the trauma of seeing teenagers get stabbed to death. As a result this is quite effective as horror filmmaking and more pungent than anything he's done in a while. The plot concerns the surviving characters from the first three movies (David Arquette, Neve Campbell, and Courtney Cox, the first two displaying credible middle-aged fatigue) investigating a copycat killer who's preying on a new generation of kids. Glibly obsessed with status and social media, they're less sympathetic than any others in the series so far, which seems to be intentional.