Episode #192 - Scream 7 (2026)

The show is hosted by Bryan Kluger, who approaches horror movies with the zeal of a public defender assigned to represent the entire slasher genre. Bryan doesn’t simply review films, he interrogates them. He examines motives, questions alibis, and occasionally seems prepared to subpoena the screenwriter. Across from him sits Preston Barta, whose observations arrive with the calm precision of a man who can discuss European art cinema and chainsaw massacres with equal sincerity. Together, they have the chemistry of two survivors wandering the aisles of a long-defunct Blockbuster Video, carrying decades of cinematic baggage and entirely too much information about direct-to-video sequels.

For Episode #192, however, something unusual happens. They hated the movie.

Not in the performative internet sense, where outrage is monetized, and every disappointment is treated like a constitutional crisis. No, this was genuine horror-fan heartbreak. The film in question is Scream 7, the latest entry in a franchise that has spent nearly three decades cleverly mocking nostalgia before eventually becoming trapped inside it.

Listening to Bryan and Preston wrestle with the film is a bit like watching two loyal sports fans realize their beloved team has accidentally started playing for the opposing side. They spend the episode trying to answer a surprisingly difficult question, Why does this movie exist?

Their discussion dives into what Bryan calls the George Lucas Problem, which is the tendency for beloved franchises to become less interested in telling new stories than in repeatedly pointing at old ones and waiting for applause. They examine the resurrection of Stu Macher, a character whose return feels less like a plot development and more like a studio executive discovering a dusty action figure in an attic. They debate the kills, searching for standout moments in a series once celebrated for inventive carnage. They discuss the treatment of Neve Campbell’s Sidney Prescott, one of horror’s most enduring heroines, and whether the film offers her the respect she has spent thirty years earning.

Perhaps the most entertaining aspect of the conversation is hearing two lifelong horror devotees desperately attempt to find something, anything, to praise. It is the critical equivalent of spending two hours looking for your car keys only to discover they’re in your hand.

And yet, even when the movie fails, the conversation succeeds. That’s because My Bloody Podcast has never really been about whether a film is good or bad. It’s about why these movies matter to us in the first place. Horror fans, after all, are a peculiar breed. They can spend years defending objectively ridiculous films, passionately arguing the merits of cursed videotapes, haunted dolls, and vampires who look like they were recruited from a Hot Topic grand opening.

You can find My Bloody Podcast wherever podcasts lurk, including Apple Podcasts and Spotify. Whether you’re a lifelong devotee of cinematic carnage or simply someone curious about why grown adults can spend ninety minutes discussing fictional murders with such enthusiasm, it’s the sort of show that reminds you that bad horror can be fascinating, good horror can be transcendent, and the conversations afterward are often more entertaining than the movies themselves.