I have a confession: I didn’t always get horror.
You see, the horror genre and I have a long, sordid relationship. Sure, everything is all wine and roses now, but, like most great romances, it wasn’t always that way. You see, there was a time when… *gulp*… I didn’t consider myself a horror fan.
Now, before you throw your hands up and walk out on me, I’ve come around to the genre. A combination of life and a self-taught education helped me see the light (or, perhaps, the dark would be more apt). And, once I found my way to horror, I realized that, in many ways, it was always present in my cinematic proclivities, whether I cared to realize it or not.
In September of 1998, when Urban Legend (1998) was released, I was 14 years old and it had been a little over a month since I had first seen Scream (1996)— I wrote about that viewing experience last May (Found here). By and large, Scream had been one of the first horror movies I had ever engaged with and while I still didn’t consider myself a fan of horror, I was a fan of Scream.
After all, Scream was funny. An interesting whodunnit. Just… a good time. Sure, it was scary. Thrilling. Unsettling. But, those more serious moments added a shot of adrenaline to the goings on that made what would normally be something I considered off-putting to be more palatable. Even with that initial viewing, horror was beginning to eek into my subconscious, planting seeds for the inevitable take over, regardless of whether or not I was ready to give in yet.
And that’s the mental space I was in when I first saw a TV spot for Urban Legend:
Just weeks before, I would have written it off. Rolled my eyes at the screaming and parka clad axe-play, assuming the flick was yet another throw-away mash of senseless violence and forgettable characters. But, post-Scream, I was… enticed. Oddly excited. It looked fun.
Right from the get-go, with Rebecca Gayheart’s playful line: “You’re scared, Natalie!” I was in.
That’s the power of the slasher, especially during those periods where the sub-genre works its way back into the cultural zeitgeist, they have the ability to appeal to everyone by offering a bit of everything. Humor. Scares. Sex appeal. A narrative hook (sometimes literally). And, so it was, my friends and I got our parents to buy us tickets to what would be the 2nd slasher movie I had ever seen.
When the movie was over and my friends and I were exiting the theater, the looks on our faces and the tones of our voices told the story of the movie’s success. We were smiling. Excited. Talking about who we each had thought the killer was going to be. Which deaths were the craziest. What the inevitable sequel might be about.
Urban Legend is unabashedly what it advertised itself to be: a fun, over-the-top slasher. And, although I didn’t have the expertise to recognize it at the time, right at home with the 80s slate of similar films that it was homaging. Reading the script, it’s clear that energy was there from start, reflecting the same sharp dialogue and atmospheric situations that went on to appear in the film. As it was brought to life, the framing and staging evolved, creating tension through mystique and suggestion rather than outright grotesquery.
Few scenes reflect this more than that where Damon is dragged up a tree and hung dangling over his car, in line with the famous urban legend. A simple premise that is well known, brought to life with believability and nerve-wrenching tension despite the outlandishness of the situation. The script lays the groundwork for the scene, building it out brick by brick with few deviations while the filmmakers brought it to the screen with expert craftsmanship, relying far more heavily on blocking and tone than raw effects.
THE SCENE
Damon and Natalie sit in Damon’s car talking. Damon makes a move and Natalie retaliates, punching him. Damon leaves to relieve himself. While gone, he’s attacked. Natalie waits. She gets out of the car to look for Damon and encounters the Killer. She gets back in the car and locks the door. The Killer fastens a rope to the back of the car and Natalie desperately tries to start it. Something bangs on the roof of the car and then scratches at it desperately. The killer leaps on the hood and Natalie starts the car, pulling away. The car is attached to a rope, hanging Damon from a large tree overhead. The car slams to a halt as Damon hits the topmost branch, breaking his neck. Natalie slams the car in reverse to escape from the Killer and Damon’s body falls from the tree, smashing the windshield. Natalie gets out of the car, confused, frightened and alone.
THE SCRIPT
THE SCREEN
The scene fades into leaves and tree branches obscuring a clearing in the dark. A car swims into view as the camera moves slowly over the clearing, making the image feel classic and iconic. The script describes the clearing as:
A small lake in the wooded area separating the campus from the town. On the other side, we can see school buildings.”
Instead of a lake, we see the car against the backdrop of trees, bathed in the shadows of branches in the light of the full moon with no buildings visible in the distance. Quieter, more secluded surroundings that, again, lean more heavily into the sort of vintage, secluded iconography insinuated by the idea of an urban legend.
The image cuts to the interior of the car, showing Damon with his arm outstretched around the headrest directly behind Natalie. The moment is instantly recognizable from countless teen films, Natalie wearing a look of vulnerability as Damon attempts to take advantage, mirroring what he feels is her state of mind.
The scripted dialogue plays out almost identically as written with a few minor changes to word choice and phrasing. The scene is edited in a shot-reverse-shot manner, providing a visual back and forth as Damon’s motives become more transparent, tracking the progression of Natalie’s expression from empathetic to exasperated. Damon’s shamelessness is presented with an air of playfulness as Natalie boorishly lets him finish his act before telling him off.
Again, the shot-reverse-shot editing style continues as Natalie claims agency in the situation, revealing her strength and metaphorical stand against the pervasive social expectations of toxic masculinity that are so prevalent in this type of scene. Everything in the car is tightly framed and oddly intimate; a quirky and yet unsettling way of establishing Natalie’s inner strength before having to first face the killer, sending Damon into the night with a reason to be punished. His final line in the car is even the infamous words: “I’ll be right back!”
After Damon leaves, the script notes: She doesn’t look well. She opens up the vanity mirror. In the film, the image cuts to a wide of Damon, making his way through the clearing. The moment serves to remind the viewer of the expansive space as well as establish its properties for blocking and logistical purposes.
The script remains in the car with Natalie, continuing: She stares at herself for a second. As she goes to close the mirror, we catch a quick, unclear reflection of something outside. Natalie doesn’t notice. She’s waiting, looking impatient. Finally, she opens her door and steps out.
The film, however, expands on this passage. While Natalie does not “glimpse” the killer, she does pull down the mirror. The viewer is never shown the mirror and Natalie is therefore never depicted as so aloof. Rather, she seems alert which is far more in keeping with the strength she exhibited mere seconds before. The image continuously cuts to Damon, too, making his way through the trees and unzipping to “take a piss.” The quick nature of the intercutting serves to create tension for both characters, begging the question of who might be attacked first.
In a straight-on medium shot, as Damon is relieving himself, a twig snaps loudly and Damon turns. Due to the back and forth that has laid the foundation of the past few minutes, it is all the more shocking when the image does not cut and a rope is thrown around Damon’s neck, pulling him down and out of frame. The scare is accompanied by a loud stinger and works as a splendid payoff to the build. That’s when Natalie gets out of the car.
Rather than a moment of peace, the film opts to show chaos and Damon’s impending fate so that when Natalie does step out, there is a more palpable, visceral danger which drives the viewer’s engagement with the moment. The script describes what happens next in a fairly straight forward manner:
She walks backwards looking around. As she reaches the back of the car, she turns to look forward and comes face to face with…
THE KILLER.
In the film, Natalie is shown in a series of medium-close up shots, her expression serious and driven— again, alert. She has already been targeted that evening and so prepared for another attack, albeit by a boy already incapacitated. The image cuts to a wide of the trees, building atmosphere and mood as her calls for Damon fall on deaf ears. Finally, after hearing a twig snap, just as Damon did, she bumps into the killer, appearing from out of the frame, in the same immediate way as she did moments before when wrapping the rope around Damon.
In the script, the Killer is described as: His hood is tight around his face making it impossible to make out who it is. The script refers to the Killer’s parka as “His”, insinuating a male presence and feeding into both Natalie’s and the viewer’s societal (and narrative) expectations, once again playing with a pervasive, patriarchal stereotype. As scripted, Natalie SCREAMS and heads back to the car.
The following action is photographed in a series of tight close ups as Natalie attempts to outmaneuver the Killer: the image shows close ups of the window roller, a hand slamming down a lock, the killer walking, Natalie attempting to start the car, etc. The Killer is often seen walking just in the corner of the frame and moving in Natalie’s peripheral vision. The persona feels effectively invincible, almost supernatural in the manner and purpose with which it moves and goes about its business.
The only thing the film does away with altogether is something called a “shrieker”. The item mentioned throughout the script is a device that SHRIEKS when activated in an effort to call attention to someone in need of help. The item fails in the script and ends up being a worthless object, presumably as a commentary for Natalie needing to take charge of saving herself, and is not missed in the film.
The script calls for a GLOVED HAND to grab Natalie’s hand through her open window and then builds out a scene where: Natalie grabs the keys from the ignition and stabs his hand. In the film, the Killer does attempt to reach in the window, but is thwarted before she can grab her. The moment in the film suggests that the Killer is more interested in attaching the rope to the back of the car than she is Natalie, maintaining the momentum of the scene and the narrative. Of course, the script keeps the rope’s attachment a secret until later in the scene.
She HONKS the horn, then: BOOM! From above. She stops honking. BOOM! She looks up. The roof of the car is denting… someone’s walking on it.
The film depicts this in a close up on Natalie, panning up to see the roof denting inward. Once more, the framing is tight and intimate in the car. Natalie feels trapped. In keeping with the script, Natalie attempts to start the car several more times, forgetting the trick Damon showed her in a previous scene. Some nuances are excluded such as Natalie reclines the seat back or an emphasis on she’s shaking all in lieu of keeping the events moving quickly and the mounting intensity of the tone.
Then the script describes a SCRATCHING, which in the film is an incredibly high-pitched squeaking sound, scraping the the top of the car. That’s when the image cuts to a low angle exterior of the car’s roof. Instead of the killer, the viewer sees a medium pan beginning with Damon desperately kicking feet and finishing with a medium wide of his hanging body, a noose around his neck as he kicks at the roof of the car.
We see bare feet furiously scratching the roof. Then as we go up further we realize it’s Damon. He’s hung by a rope. He keeps himself from being choked by holding onto his neck. He can barely get his words out…
His words: Don’t start the car! Don’t start the car!
The script follows this chilling moment with: Natalie is still feverishly attempting to get the car started. The SCRATCHING even more furious than before. In the film, the reveal is proceeded by Natalie as she takes a pause and gets her bearings, as though she might be on the cusp of realizing what’s amiss on the roof. The script arrives at the same conclusion but the effectiveness is sapped a bit by the dizzy way in which the reader is reintroduced to the car’s interior. Still, both amount to the same thing:
THE KILLER’S HEAD pops down from over the car, right in front of her.
The following moments play out as scripted as Natalie suddenly remembers the trick to starting the car and THE ENGINE ROARS. The image cuts between Natalie and Damon, again serving to constantly remind the viewer what’s at stake with every decision. Then: The car zooms away.
In an impressive, wide crane shot, Damon is pulled up toward the tree. The script notes that We hear Damon’s neck CRACK as his eyes go blank but in the film he screams all the way to the top. Also, the script points out: We now see that the end of the rope is tied to the back of his car. Of course, in the film, the viewer is clued into that fact the moment it occurs, driving a fair amount of the tension present in the latter portion of the scene.
The script calls for a moment of struggle atop the car as the Killer’s holding on to the windshield wipers and Natalie jerks the car to thrown him off. In the film the car slams to a stop, sending the killer flying off of the hood in a medium-wide shot. The script adopts the shot-reverse-shot nature so prevalent in the film at this point, dropping some of the normal headers that might accompany a scene change in Action Description. By describing the individual shots, there’s a sense of mounting visual tension that invades the imagination as one reads them.
EXT. LAKESIDE – NIGHT.
We see the tensed up rope not allowing the car to go forward.
INT. DAMON’S CAR – NIGHT.
Natalie is shaking as the killer lurches up towards the windshield.
ON THE DASHBOARD
We see the RPM’s going into the red as Natalie hits the accelerator as far as it can go.
THROUGH THE WINDSHIELD
The killer’s moved up to the windshield. He starts kicking it in with his boots. The glass is CRACKING.
All of the above occurs as scripted, the shots growing tighter as the Killer’s boot slams into the windshield. Natalie’s state of mind fractures and her determination manifests as dark enjoyment when she realizes that if she can’t go forward, she must go back.
The only deviation from this section is a quick wide of Damon hanging lifelessly atop the tree, the only sound that of the crackling rope as it strains to hold the corpse swaying gently in the moonlight. That, and the omitted line “Fuck you” which Natalie was supposed to say as she looks down at the gear shift and slams it into reverse. Still, her expression speaks the words even if her lips do not.
The script continues at a breakneck pace, calling out single sentence shots as the rope behind the car is slacking and Damon’s body quickly starts to fall. This culminating in:
INT. DAMON’S CAR – NIGHT.
Natalie, out of breath, is looking back and doesn’t notice
DAMON’S BODY
Through the windshield, falling straight towards her.
SMASH!
Damon’s body CRASHES through the windshield landing right on top of Natalie.
The tight editing style and close up nature of the filming serves as the perfect capper to the invasive level of intimacy in the tight space of the car— paralleling what Damon began to perpetrate against Natalie when the scene first began. The script describes Natalie’s actions as she tries pushing Damon off and manages to get out from under him and open the door. Her escape feels somewhat fruitless however as she lands in the clearing, alone, once more in the shadows of the branches obscuring the moon.
As the script points out, there is No sign of the killer. Rather, Natalie has been spared, left to deal with the fact that she is living real life urban legends and the knowledge that the likelihood of anyone believing her is, at best, unlikely.
THE BLOODY CONCLUSION
“One of my favorite scenes in the movie,” director Jamie Blanks said in his commentary track for Urban Legend found on the Scream Factory blu-ray disc (Available here) in reference to the scene where Damon is hung above the car. He later continued, in reference to the same scene, “I want to believe that the cutting and the sound works so that [audiences] actually thought they saw something more violent than they did.”
I remember talking with my friends after walking out of the theater, discussing the gory details. Particularly, the scene where Pacey from Dawson’s Creek was strung up by a speeding car and hung from a tall tree. It wasn’t until later, when I revisited the film and had seen more of the movies that informed it, that I realized the effect of a tightly edited and blocked sequence could be such that one imagines it was more violent than it actually was. That the effectiveness of the horror genre spanned across all aspects of filmmaking and was often operating on levels that most never perceived or, in some cases, simply write off.
The script set the stage for such stylistic exploits, even insinuating an editing style by way of the writing as the tension was ratcheted up throughout. The film carried that sensibility through from the very beginning, placing an emphasis on the characters’ states of mind and allowing the audience to constantly question who was safe… and was next.
Of course, a scene like that isn’t easy to pull off. While there may not have been a lot of practical effects involved, there was still the need for a crane and elaborate stunt planning to ensure the ride Damon took up the tree was handled safely while looking appropriately frightening and realistic.
“It was physically very tricky,” producer Michael McDonnell said in the documentary Urban Legacy found on the blu-ray mentioned earlier, “easy to explain, but to visually explain… a lot trickier.”
The words on the page have the luxury of the imagination, still it’s when the ingenuity of the filmmakers and those words combine together that something greater than the sum of their parts emerges. I may not have realized it in 1998, but I wasn’t just responding to a whodunnit. To a laugh or two. To a scare. I was responding to the effect that horror had the potential to have on an audience. Yes, Scream set the stage for that in my mind, and, indeed, ushered in an era where a movie like Urban Legend could even be made, but Urban Legend proved it wasn’t a fluke.
Some people may always question slashers. Their place in cinema. Whether or not these bloody affairs need to exist, whether or not they negatively impact the people that watch them or even if they make any damn sense.
Some people get it… and some people don’t. As for me, well, it’s like I said: wine and roses.
But, having gone from a disbeliever to a devotee, my response would mirror Michael Rosenbaum’s (actor who portrayed Parker Riley) on the commentary track when he talks about hearing people accuse the female Killer in Urban Legend of not being strong enough to hoist Damon’s body to where it needed to be staged:
“You know what?” He says sweetly, “go to Hell.”
See what I mean? When you get it… you just— get it.
Urban Legend (1998): Written by Silvio Horta & Directed by Jamie Blanks
