TRAGEDY GIRLS. A Killer Satire on Social Media Obsession

There was no more popular or commercially successful subgenre of horror at the turn of the 1970s and 1980s than the slasher. Halloween, Friday the 13th, A Nightmare on Elm Street, and all their sequels and clones flooded American screens, much to the delight of young audiences. After all, these films were made for them and about them. There wasn’t much depth to them—just the idea that teenagers are stupid, irresponsible, and perpetually horny, and that they would pay for all these sins with their own blood. However, the slasher genre eventually became oversaturated and disappeared for over a decade, only to make a triumphant return with Wes Craven’s Scream. That film both mocked and embraced slasher conventions, revitalizing the genre. Today’s filmmakers tackling this specific brand of horror must be aware of how exhausted the material has become—slashers taken seriously no longer exist, and even ironic takes now feel stale. The creators of Tragedy Girls understand this well, which is why their film starts where most slasher movies about psychopathic killers hunting teenagers usually end. A masked figure wielding a machete (played by the distinct-looking Kevin Durand) kills a boy on a date, but the teenage girl has better luck and manages to escape. However, she’s not just lucky—she’s also smart and has hidden intentions. Along with her best friend, she captures the crazed killer to use him for their own purposes.

The two girls—played by Brianna Hildebrand (known from Deadpool) and Alexandra Shipp (who portrayed young Storm in X-Men: Apocalypse)—run a blog called Tragedy Girls, where they post information and photos of brutal murders happening in their town. More often than not, they’re responsible for these deaths. Why do they do it? For likes, for retweets, for fame—and simply because they can. After all, they look like potential victims, not murderers.

Tyler MacIntyre’s film echoes the cult black comedy Heathers (1988), in which Christian Slater and Winona Ryder eliminated classmates they didn’t like. It also reflects on the exploitation of school tragedies, much like Jennifer’s Body, and the motivations of its protagonists resemble those of the killers in the underrated Scream 4. This isn’t about subverting slasher tropes, but it does mark the first time a duo of girls wreaks havoc. We’ve reached a point where women no longer need men to be evil—the ex-boyfriend of one of them is the first to go (in a hilarious cameo by Josh Hutcherson), and not for something as trivial as jealousy. Toby is simply a competitor on Twitter. The potential romantic interest for the other girl soon finds himself on their hit list, too. Love (if it can even be called that) takes a backseat to friendship here.

The most intriguing aspect of the film is its take on the influence of social media—Facebook, Twitter, Instagram—on modern teenagers. It’s not just about gaining popularity or even trading human lives for a few hundred followers; it’s about the speed at which everything happens. Social media moves at lightning speed—one click can make someone not just a star, but an authority, while simultaneously silencing those who actually deserve a voice (the local sheriff struggles to keep up with the girls). The crimes themselves aren’t as shocking as the way objectivity is being dismantled right before our eyes. The main characters create their own reality, not just for themselves but for everyone around them, and it has little to do with the truth.

Unfortunately, this sharp critique is undermined by the film’s own conclusion. Instead of blaming social media and our collective gullibility for creating monsters like Sadie and McKayla, the script falls back on the tired trope that they were simply evil from the start. It feels as if the filmmakers were afraid to push the blame too far in one direction, even though it wouldn’t have been particularly controversial.

Still, Tragedy Girls remains a cynical yet entertaining slasher takedown of a small-town community, showing no mercy while still acknowledging the pain of those who have lost someone. The girls themselves don’t see or care about this pain, but at least the director does. He recognizes the real consequences of their actions—not just the number of retweets on their account.