96 min | R | June 5, 2026 | Paramount Pictures
A reboot of a parody franchise mocking the age of reboots. The joke writes itself, and the film still cannot finish it. Funny in spurts, mean in others.
The Scary Movie franchise has been dead for over a decade, which makes it the perfect subject for its own joke. The sixth film brings back the Wayans family, Anna Faris, and Regina Hall to parody the last ten years of horror. Get Out, Smile, M3GAN, The Substance, Weapons, Longlegs, Sinners, and the endless Scream sequels all get the treatment. Michael Tiddes directs from a script by the Wayans and Rick Alvarez. The premise has real potential. A reboot of a parody franchise mocking an era of reboots and legacy sequels is a joke that should write itself. The film almost gets there.
Anna Faris slides back into Cindy Campbell like no time has passed, and her commitment to the dumbest bits is the film’s secret weapon. Regina Hall matches her as Brenda. The Wayans brothers know exactly what register this material lives in and they play it without embarrassment. The newcomers are hit and miss, but the veterans understand that the only way spoof works is total conviction. When the performances lock in and the callbacks land, the film delivers real laughs. The cast is having more fun than the script deserves.
Tiddes has directed Wayans comedies before and he keeps the parade of gags moving. The horror parodies are staged with enough visual fidelity that the jokes have something to push against. The film recreates the look of its targets well enough that the punchlines connect. At ninety-six minutes it does not overstay, which is the right instinct for a movie built entirely on rapid-fire reference. The problem is not the construction. It is that the jokes themselves are uneven, and too many of them reach for the easiest and meanest target in the room.
There is a sharper movie buried in here, one with something to actually say about the reboot machine that resurrected this very franchise. The film keeps brushing up against that idea and then backing off to make another body-fluid gag. It never forms a coherent statement out of its best instinct. And it punches down often enough to leave a sour aftertaste between the genuine laughs. The fan service works. The callbacks work. The performers commit. But a parody mocking lazy nostalgia should not lean on it this hard. The film is funnier than it has any right to be and emptier than it wanted to be.