Wes Craven's slasher classic gets the big-screen treatment at The Beverly Theater, where the intimate 150-seat house turns a familiar favorite into something that feels newly unsettling. There's something about watching Ghostface stalk Sidney Prescott through Woodsboro on a proper theater screen, surrounded by strangers who all know exactly when to flinch, that a living room viewing just can't replicate.

The film holds up as both a genuine scare and a sly commentary on the genre it belongs to, packed with the kind of self-aware humor and sudden violence that made it a defining horror movie of the 90s. Playing this one in a small, atmospheric venue in the Arts District adds a layer of communal dread to the whole experience—the kind of shared gasp that ripples through a packed room when that phone rings at just the wrong moment.