Wes Craven's Wonky Spell: Why My Soul to Take Deserves a Second Look (Even If It's Still a Bit of a Mess)
AI Gaming News Author · Polygon ·
Wes Craven's often-maligned 2010 film *My Soul to Take* turns 15, prompting a re-evaluation of its messy, yet uniquely ambitious horror narrative and its deeper themes of identity and creation. Despite its initial critical failure, its curious blend of Craven's signature styles and his personal investment make it a fascinating, if flawed, cult candidate.
Right, so you know that feeling when you're messing around with a new game engine, trying to cast some ambitious, reality-bending spell, and it comes out… well, *different*? Not quite what you intended, a bit clunky, maybe a few textures clipping, but there’s a spark of genius buried in the jank? That’s pretty much how I reckon we should look at Wes Craven's *My Soul to Take*, now celebrating its 15th anniversary.
Back in 2010, mate, this film landed with all the grace of a goblin falling down a well. Audiences were baffled, critics sharpened their digital pitchforks, and the box office said, 'Nah, you're alright.' It was meant to be a horror event, a comeback for a legend, but instead, it felt like a spell gone awry. The kind where the incantation was right, but the reagents were a bit off, and now you’ve got a perpetually startled squirrel instead of a fearsome direwolf.
This was a big one, mind you. Craven’s first time back in the director's and writer's chair since '94, when he basically wrapped up *Nightmare on Elm Street* and simultaneously gave us a preview of *Scream* with *New Nightmare*. So, what did he conjure up this time? A sort of Frankenstein's monster of his own franchises. The core idea is pure Craven chaos: a serial killer, 'The Ripper,' with multiple personality disorder gets caught and supposedly killed. That same night, seven babies are born – the 'Riverton Seven' – who, 16 years later, are tied by this shared, macabre origin story and an annual ritual to 're-kill' the Ripper in effigy. Of course, they start getting picked off, one by one.
Now, on one hand, you've got your classic masked slasher stalking teenagers, complete with menacing phone calls – very *Scream*-esque. On the other, there are these freaky, almost dream-like hallucinations and a deep dive into psychological fragmentation, bringing in those *Nightmare* vibes. There's this meek kid, Bug, who starts seeing his dead classmates in mirrors and weird places, hinting that something far more subjective – and confusing – is afoot. It’s like a whodunit where the 'who' might just be a split personality, or even a spectral soul-shard, possessing a new host. Talk about a mind-bend!
What’s genuinely intriguing, though, is how Craven reacted to the absolute pummelling the film received. You’d think, given the timing – just six months before *Scream 4* came out – that *My Soul to Take* was a troubled production, a victim of studio meddling, like his earlier werewolf flick *Cursed* (aptly named, that one). But no, Craven himself never badmouthed it. In an interview, he just said, 'When you do a film like *My Soul to Take* and people think it sucks, that hurts. We put a lot of work into it and it’s a good film, but you go on.' That, mate, is the battle cry of many a game developer whose passion project didn't quite land with the masses. You pour your digital soul into it, and sometimes the world just isn't ready, or perhaps the spell wasn't perfectly cast.
And yeah, it’s easy to see why critics were scratching their heads. The film is a genuinely odd beast. Exposition tumbles out like dice from a poorly managed tabletop RPG, characterisation is murky, and the dialogue, particularly the teenage banter, feels a bit rusty. It's like trying to get your old wizard staff to work after it's been gathering dust for two decades – the magic's still there, but it takes a bit of a shake and a whack to get it going. Despite the compressed timeline (most of it happens over 24 hours), it feels strangely drawn out. Plus, the young cast, bless 'em, didn't quite hit the nuanced notes needed to convey the whole 'different souls sharing bodies' thing effectively. It's a tough brief, that.
And yet! (There's always an 'and yet,' isn't there, when you're digging into these digital oddities?) There's something undeniably eerie and memorable lurking within its confused narrative. Critics like Scout Tafoya even read it as deeply autobiographical for Craven, seeing the twisted serial-killer soul as a metaphor for the dark creative impulses that drove his horror career. That's a fascinating take, like finding a hidden lore document that completely recontextualizes a quirky boss battle. It suggests that even in its messiness, the film was trying to grapple with something profound about the creator's own journey.
Beyond that, there's a compelling exploration of teenage identity – how it’s mutable, often nasty, and full of fleeting connections. The Riverton Seven are disgusted with, yet obsessed with, each other. Their social hierarchy feels precariously built on quicksand. A devout Christian character veers into fatalistic woo-woo, a fearsome bully is a goth girl, and the nerdy outcast bears a strange resemblance to the popular jock. It’s all very nihilistic, reflecting the temporary, often brutal, nature of high school social order. For gamers, it’s like seeing character archetypes deliberately subverted, questioning the very foundations of how we perceive roles within a narrative – or a multiplayer lobby.
Now, this isn't on the level of *A Nightmare on Elm Street*, let's be fair. But coming out in 2010, a decade that was pretty much a graveyard for middling horror remakes (the truly dismal *Nightmare on Elm Street* remake came out a mere six months before *this* one) and the lingering dreck of the post-*Scream* teen horror boom, *My Soul to Take* probably should have gotten a bit more love than the likes of, say, *Stay Alive* or *Boogeyman*. At least Craven was trying something *different*, even if it was a bit of a glorious, unholy mess.
There's a scene, a proper weird one, where two characters unveil their biology project by dressing one up as a massive California Condor and terrorising their classmates. They extol the bird’s stamina and its ability to feed off death. It’s a moment that feels like both a critique of the film itself and a perverse declaration of horror-making pride. It's like a game developer knowingly putting in a buggy but hilarious side quest, a wink to those who get the chaos. Sometimes, the most interesting creations are the ones that don't quite fit the mould, the ones that dare to be a bit broken, a bit odd, and leave you wondering 'what the bloody hell was that?' but still thinking about it weeks later. So, 15 years on, maybe it's time to let *My Soul to Take* take another shot at your soul, warts and all. It might just surprise you.
Tags: horror, cult classic, narrative design, creative risk, film analysis
Original article: Polygon