A startlingly original and stripped-down madcap horror-comedy about the terrors of the creative process, Scare Me manages to find a fresh entry point to a well-trodden subgenere by asking, simply: what do we want from horror? What is the draw of scaring ourselves – be it with Joe Hill novels, Ari Aster movies, or Ryan Murphy TV shows – and how is any good horror story crafted? These are the ideas that interest Scare Me, a horror-comedy in the tradition of oral storytelling. The film, which leans more towards comedy than horror, follows two writers and new acquaintances in Fred and Fanny, both eloping from society to far-flung snowy cabins to hack out the next horror story sure to terrify the world.

When the power goes out, they order delivery pizza (from Overlook Pizza no less), glug wine, rail lines of coke, and craft their very best scary stories to scare each other witless. For Fred though, the scariest thing of all may be confronting his own inadequacies. Particularly in the face of a greater storyteller. A lady storyteller.

Scare Me plays loosely with the multitude of horror tropes that have long haunted the genre, making cheeky meta-commentary on the importance of eschewing convention. Of carving out a new lane. Of seizing your own means of creativity. Of putting in the work. Writer, director, producer and actor Josh Ruben’s Fred is the embodiment of stale, reused, dead-on-arrival ideas. In an ironic twist, Ruben has cooked up something remarkably unfussy and fresh and yet cast himself as creative bankruptcy embodied.

A semi-successful commercial copywriter who hates his life, Fred seeks spiritual rebirth on the page. But, to the detriment of both he and log cabin neighbor Fanny (Aya Cash), Fred is just not blessed with the skills needed to tell a thrilling story. That and he’s not really willing to do the hard work required of a great storyteller. Fanny notes, he might be good but he’ll never be great. He’s the type to mistake the loosest wrinkle of a thought for a whole story and has set out to pen a hacky werewolf revenge story without one dripping fang of originality.

Fanny is Fred’s foil. A celebrated, best-selling author. Stories come to her naturally, particularly those of the creepy crawly variety. Despite her mastery of the genre, Fanny confesses she loves to be scared. “Scare me,” she dares Fred, launching the film into the lane in which it will remain for the rest of the feature: two horror writers attempting to spook one another with increasing ferocity.

Ruben wrestles what might have been limiting budgetary constraints to his absolute advantage, making lemonade out of lemon seeds, using sound design and simple light and shadow puppetry to flesh out an economic production and give it life, character, and a unique tilt which helps it extend beyond what most productions with much higher budgets are regularly able to achieve.

In its simplicity, Scare Me achieves novelty. With a single location and only four cast members, Ruben creates a spellbinding and rich story about, well, stories; one that builds from the age old tradition of gathering around a campfire on a cold dark night, telling tales of madness, monsters, and murder, and with that simple premise allows the allure of storytelling itself to power the plot.

Each of the cast members provide larger-than-life comedic turns; Ruben proves a maestro of screwed-up faces and demonic voices; Chris Redd arrives mid-movie to steal just about every scene he’s in; Rebecca Drysdale makes a lot of her brief role, starting the movie off on the perfect guffaw, with its iconic backcountry cabin in the woods vibe; and Cash is straight fantastic as the confident, competent wrinkle to Fred’s average Joe.

What starts as a ships passing in the night midnight storytelling session ends with a well-constructed collision, Ruben’s war of words getting better and better as it spin out its own little world of competition, jealousy, and maybe romantic inclinations. There are a few moments where I wished that Scare Me had, you know, scared me or committed to going in even darker directions but as a horror-comedy, this is one of the best and most inventive creations this side of Shaun of the Dead and measures in just the right amount of gender politics to hint at deeper meaning.

Ruben’s clear adoration for the horror genre too is splattered all over his feature, with tips of the hat to everything from Tales From the Crypt to The Shining. The stories that Fred and Fanny weave fold in clever wordplay, mounting tension and personal wounds, exploring the horrors of werewolves, Eastern block grandpas and unrequited crushes. In the economy of this tale’s design, Ruben and company have found a way towards something that’s funny, fresh, and features a full-blown musical number. Note him as one to watch.

CONCLUSION: ‘Scare Me’ milks its juicy premise – two horror storytellers trying to frighten each other on a cold, dark night – for all that it’s worth, proving that less is more when you get the ingredients right and let the rest of the noise fall away. The refreshing performances all pop, particularly when they get nutty.