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In 2020, with theaters struggling during COVID-19 lockdown protocols, Netflix made a genius play by acquiring Disney’s Fear Street films for a triple-feature summer release. Horror fans were buzzing about Leigh Janiak’s R.L. Stine adaptations, which became a minor cultural event. You’d think Netflix would ride that hype into future entries, right? Unfortunately, Matt Palmer’s Fear Street: Prom Queen is slinking onto Netflix with little fanfare, as is the company’s typical hushed (aka non-existent) release strategy. Even more unfortunate, Fear Street: Prom Queen is an underwhelming follow-up that lacks the presence and bite of Janiak’s far superior trifecta—Fear Street by name, but unexceptional and sophomoric by comparison.
Palmer and co-writer Donald McLeary adapt Stine’s “The Prom Queen” (1992), about a bloody high school celebration. The film revolves around Shadyside teen Lori Granger (India Fowler), a reluctant outcast running for prom queen against the “It Girls.” Lori’s main rival is Tiffany Falconer (Fina Strazza), the alpha of her mean-streaking wolf pack. With the help of her horror-loving bestie, Megan Rogers (Suzanna Son), Lori hopes to prove she’s more than just another meaningless Shadyside statistic. But when a cloaked and masked murderer starts offing prom queen candidates at the dance, her dreams become a fight for survival.
Whereas Janiak’s Fear Street trilogy boasts a broader horror appeal, Prom Queen restrictively panders to young adult horror fans. It’s predictable, sleepier, and more mundane as a collection of slasher clichés. Stine’s books are aimed at adolescents exploring the horror genre, so cringy dialogue that turns titles like “Rosemary’s Baby” into punchlines is mirrored, but that doesn’t excuse a dumbed-down vibe. The problem isn’t that Prom Queen is a gorier brand of gateway horror, but more how the film’s execution doesn’t aim for anything revolutionary. Palmer’s direction reads “complacency,” much like Netflix’s Time Cut or other meh introductory slashers.
It is a bloody affair, at least. The prom killer in their crimson robe and theatrical mask hacks hopeful kings and queens to pieces—another strange choice. I’m not complaining about bloodshed, especially with beheadings and handheld saw attacks in plain view, but extreme violence suggests Prom Queen wants to captivate older audiences. Something like Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark is prime gateway horror because it proves PG-13 ratings don’t diminish wretched scares and nails the all-ages mentality. Prom Queen gives its principal character the catchphrase “Wowzers!” and refits Mean Girls Lite attitudes to slasher models, reductively meant for teenage audiences, but gory beats are heavily R-rated. Palmer’s chosen tone has an identity crisis between cafeteria immaturity and full-blown massacre scenes, something Janiak’s delivery avoids.
Prom Queen also suffers from overexplanation, which is becoming a Netflix problem. Megan’s narrative purpose seems to be recalling plot points aloud through dialogue, as if we forgot what happened two scenes prior. Palmer and McLeary’s screenplay doesn’t trust its audience, utilizing flashbacks and repetitive exposition to a detrimental degree. It’s hard enough to accept the film’s unsurprising and clunky regurgitation of teen slasher blueprints, but the lack of faith in viewership states too much aloud. We’re trapped in a duller Shadyside that has lost its edge, as deaths become mechanical and Lori’s township traumas hit softer than Janiak’s prevalent themes of suburban decay.
Disappointingly, Fear Street: Prom Queen is a forgettable rerun of age-appropriate slashers that doesn’t strive for greatness. Everything is downgraded from infinitely less stylized cinematography to passable enough performances that can feel wooden and rigid (Katherine Waterston, Chris Klein, and Ariana Greenblatt included). It only takes ninety minutes, but the experience hardly feels brisk or streamlined even at that golden duration. There are countless stronger gateway titles available to welcome horror’s next crop of champions—Prom Queen is the store-brand Friday night junk food equivalent. You’ll get a sugar rush when bodies hit the floor; otherwise, it’s empty meta-horror calories and mass-produced blandness.
Movie Score: 2.5/5
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