For over 20 years, horror fans have known Billy Loomis is not to be trusted. And yet, when revisiting Wes Craven's self-aware slasher Scream, it's impossible not to fall for this homicidal hunk all over again. He was our first problematic crush! Skeet Ulrich has the pretty-boy appeal of a young Johnny Depp, with the irresistibly floppy locks that were legally required for '90s heartthrobs. But in his soulful dark brown eyes there lurked the promise of trouble, a glint of danger. And damn, that was sexy too.
When it came to the mystery of who was stalking Sidney Prescott and murdering her friends, Scream repeatedly singled Billy out as the obvious choice. But like the grief-stricken Sid, we didn't want to believe it. Ulrich's wickedly good looks and Billy's seeming love of our fierce final girl compelled us to hope for any other possibility. Just not our Billy! He was hot, passionate, and respected Sid's PG-13 boundaries.
As teen girls, we fantasized about breaking our underwear rule for this undeniably sultry psycho. We dreamed of stroking that unruly tendril of hair away from his bold brows. We longed to wipe the blood from his kissable lips. And Craven knew it.
The legendary horror-maker played our teen hearts like a fiddle from hell, making the climactic reveal of Billy's treachery all the more chilling. There he turned our dream boy into a total nightmare, revealing a dark lesson.
In this slasher splashed with gore and ripe with hormones, Billy warned a generation of horror fans not to be fooled by a pretty face, masking a dark heart. And we'll always love him a little for that.
Also for that sexy smirk. We're not made of stone.