Matthew Lillard, Skeet Ulrich made ‘Scream’ at Texas Theatre a bloody good time

The call was coming from inside the theater on Sunday night.

Scream fans packed the historic Texas Theatre for a 30th anniversary screening of Wes Craven’s 1996 horror classic. The special event, which was presented by Texas Frightmare Weekend, was not just a movie screening; it was the promise of live commentary from the film’s stars, Matthew Lillard and Skeet Ulrich, the men behind Stu Macher and Billy Loomis, cinema’s most charmingly deranged teen murder duo.

It also marked the first time Lillard and Ulrich have ever recorded official commentary for Scream. They did it live in Dallas, in front of a crowd that sold out the event about two hours after it was announced. Between the theater’s main auditorium and simulcast in the smaller screening room upstairs, tickets for the roughly 840 seats vanished faster than Casey Becker’s evening plans.

Texas Frightmare Weekend, held over the weekend at the Irving Convention Center, has long been more than a place to collect autographs and horror merch. It has become a roaming celebration of the genre, with special screenings that turn fandom into communion.

In past years, the festival has helped bring John Carpenter to town for screenings of The Thing and They Live. This year, the Texas Theatre hosted two major Frightmare-related events: a Halfway to Halloween screening of “Halloween III: Season of the Witch” with composer Alan Howarth performing portions of his score live, followed by a Q&A with Howarth, writer-director Tommy Lee Wallace and stars Tom Atkins and Stacey Nelkin; and then this Scream screening, which may go down as one of the theater’s great “I was there” nights.

The commentary began with the loose energy of a sleepover where everyone had been told there were no parents home. The film’s audio started too loud, occasionally swallowing the speakers whole during Ghostface’s more athletic moments. Lillard, Ulrich and moderator James Wallace were quick to joke about it, and the sound was adjusted, though some chase scenes still had the final say. At times, stretches of the movie went by with little commentary because, frankly, everyone just wanted to watch Scream — that felt right. Some movies demand analysis, but Scream winks at you, stabs you, then asks if you caught the reference.

Early on, Lillard slipped into a style of commentary that recalled Arnold Schwarzenegger’s famously literal DVD tracks — Drew Barrymore appeared onscreen, and Lillard helpfully pointed out, in effect, that there she was. That was the joke: obvious, dry, perfectly stupid. Then silence. Then laughter. Then another drink.

Both Lillard and Ulrich came out with drinks in hand, and by the end of the night, they freely admitted they were drunk. Not in a sloppy way. More in the “two beloved horror icons have accidentally turned a sold-out repertory screening into the best living room in Dallas” way.

Ulrich, quieter than Lillard but wicked when he chose his moments, wandered into the crowd early to check on first-time viewers. It is a uniquely twisted way to introduce someone to Scream, with the killers sitting in the room and occasionally asking how you’re enjoying the ride. Some attendees admitted they had been dragged there at the last minute, which is risky business at a Scream screening. Everyone knows peer pressure can be deadly in Woodsboro.

Ulrich also ordered pizza mid-screening, because apparently even Ghostface-adjacent heartthrobs need snacks. Not delivery, sadly, which would have been almost too perfect. Still, there was something deeply funny about watching Billy Loomis casually chow down while his younger self plotted mayhem in perfect ’90s hair drapes.

Wallace, Texas Frightmare’s panel coordinator and moderator, served as the evening’s secret weapon. He brought so much trivia and context that Lillard and Ulrich sometimes seemed genuinely surprised by what he knew. He was not just keeping the trains on schedule; he was sharpening the knives.

When the commentary settled into the movie’s craft, the night found its deeper pulse. Lillard and Ulrich discussed how rare Scream’s tone felt at the time, how Craven and writer Kevin Williamson made room for character development in a genre that often prefers to sprint toward the next body. Lillard noted how studios tend to crank up the volume and pace, losing the human weirdness that makes the horror land. Scream never forgets that the victims and killers are people before they are pieces on a board. That is why the jokes still hit, and why the deaths still sting.

The two also reflected on Wes Craven’s generosity as a director, especially during the film’s legendary finale at Stu’s house. Lillard said Craven gave them remarkable freedom, allowing them to improvise much of the madness that helped define the climax. That includes Stu’s immortal panic, “My mom and dad are gonna be so mad at me!” and the equally beloved, “Ow! You fuckin’ hit me with the phone, dick!” Moments like that are when the mask comes off and reveals that the monster is also a theater kid with blood loss.

Lillard, to his credit, remains hilariously hard on himself. He joked about overbaking his performance, about adding too much sauce, about not fully understanding why people love it so much. The crowd, naturally, rejected this self-assessment with the force of a final girl swinging a television set. Lillard’s Stu is a live wire, all tongue flicks, limbs and chaotic brat energy. Quentin Tarantino be damned; some personalities are simply better when the camera can barely contain them.

There were sweet moments, too. When Ulrich stepped away for a bathroom break, Lillard used the time to praise him as a father. Later, Lillard answered his wife’s call on speakerphone during the movie, briefly turning a horror landmark into a family check-in. It matched the feeling many fans saw at his Texas Frightmare booth, where fan-made art was displayed with real affection. Lillard has the rare quality of seeming delighted to be loved, but not entitled to it.

The night also leaned into the franchise’s long-running fan theory that Billy and Stu were more than partners in crime. Their chemistry, then and now, is hard to miss. Ulrich joked that they should have kissed in the film. Lillard suggested they could do it right there. Near the end of the event, they almost did, to the kind of crowd reaction usually reserved for third-act reveals and surprise cameos. Ulrich said he was willing to go all the way. Somewhere, Randy Meeks was taking notes.

Even Spencer Charnas of Ice Nine Kills, who was in the audience as a fan and Texas Frightmare guest, joined the conversation, speaking about how much Scream shaped him after he first saw it at 11. That influence is perhaps most understated about Craven’s horror classic — it rewired a generation’s brain and made horror fans out of smart alecks and smart alecks out of horror fans.

By the time the credits rolled, the Texas Theatre felt less like a venue than a crime scene dusted for joy. The screening was funny, messy, affectionate and alive. It was not a polished studio commentary, and we were thankful for that. It was something better: two actors revisiting a film that changed their lives, surrounded by people whose lives it also changed, laughing through the screams together. Texas Theatre has a gift for these nights, the kind that disappear from the calendar and become local lore. So, consider this your friendly horror-movie warning: Keep an eye on that event schedule. The next unforgettable screening may already be lurking there, waiting for you to pick up the phone.