A Fan Review of John Carpenter’s Halloween (1978)

“As Carpenter puts it, we all have the same fears.”

I love Halloween—the film and the holiday. Something about the chill in the air, the changing colors, the costumes and creepy atmosphere… I know it sounds clichéd, but I can be basic, too, y’know.

If there’s one thing John Carpenter’s Halloween does best, it’s creating that atmosphere to plunge me into the feeling of fall.

Right from the opening, long-take, we’re treated to Carpenter’s inherent mastery behind the camera. All shot using steady-cam—or hand-held camera—technique. With that, too—throughout this viewing—I noticed the camera is always on level with, or from the viewpoint of, the characters in the scenes. No God/bird’s-eye view angles, or establishing shots, really; most of what we see is meant to bring us into the room with the characters, or is a shot-reaction shot scenario, where the camera is acting as their eyes. Really helps to ground us in what’s going on.

On a shoestring $300k budget, Carpenter manages to create a “scary” that’s rarely seen among today’s offerings. Michael Myers could literally be around the next corner, and that’s seen in several shots—especially early-on, when he’s just arrived back in Haddonfield. His heavy, stalker breathing under the mask acts as his shark music (Jaws).

I just wish we saw less of his face; even as a kid, dehumanizing him with a lack of any identifiable markings or features would have further distanced him from any rational man. His silent psychopathy, though—made allthemore terrifying by Nick Castle’s stark, yet graceful, performance under the mask—is what really sticks, what makes this such a classic. Every slasher is identified by their motif now, sure—the Freddy Kruegers, the Jasons, the Leatherfaces—but even Hitchcock’s Psycho gave a face to Norman Bates. What was so revolutionary about Michael at the time, though—and what has gone on to characterize a lot of Carpenter’s antagonists—was his emotionless, morally-deprived, and utterly-brutal determination. All that, concealed by a blank, white mask (kudos to the prop guys) and without much of a backstory calls up the same fear as, say, Alien, which would come a year later.

As Carpenter puts it, we all have the same fears. In Michael, in the Xenomorph, it’s the fear of the unknown—of the faceless and depraved, of our inner monster.

No real expo-dump—instead, jumping right into the thick of the story—Jamie Lee Curtis is, of course, what makes the film, outside of Carpenter’s direction and score. Alongside Donald Pleasence (You Only Live Twice, Escape From New York)—whom also puts up a helluva performance as Michael’s psychologist, Sam Loomis, for being a five-day, $20k add-on—Curtis is equal parts horrified in her being rampantly pursued by the masked Michael, and instinctively motherly in protecting the kids with her—a clear inspiration for a later Ellen Ripley, perhaps. In her first role, it was good to see that she had so much talent back then, too; hope not a lot has changed when she becomes Laurie Strode again this weekend.

Talks of fate—again, which would tie in neat to the upcoming sequel/reboot—Loomis’s mortified monologue about the killer to the sheriff in the Myers house, and the overall contained setting make this a must-watch this season. Like watching It’s A Wonderful Life at Christmas, or The Patriot on July 4th, it’s tradition. Some nagging questions I have are never given a conclusion to, but in the void is where our minds can concoct the darkest of dreams, as Lovecraft made such a career on. We see that here, too; Michael is made out—mostly by Loomis—to be this unstoppable, unthinking, unfeeling boogeyman. A Hell-spawn, incarnate. The end montage concretizes that point: He is Haddenfield, and Haddenfield is him.

I kind of wish the whole “anthology” thing had taken off. Originally—and I just learned this about the franchise that came to be—Carpenter originally wanted Halloween to be its own thing, with follow-up films revolving around the day, maybe even making mention of the first’s events, but never any direct sequels. Re-watching Season of the Witch with that in-mind may help me make more sense of it all, but Michael’s popularity as a slasher icon put the kibosh on all that. Picture it: A proto-format akin to today’s Tales of Halloween or Cloverfield, V/H/S or Holidays—interwoven tales that take place around each other, but aren’t necessarily “sequels”, or connected on the surface. And given feature-length to develop their tales, rather than 15-or-so-minute vignettes. Would make a cool survival horror videogame, too, like Alien: Isolation.

Maybe in another universe…

In this one, though, we have John Carpenter’s Halloween, and the terror it continues to sew throughout its audiences today. It’s a piece of teenage nostalgia, and with that same, old-timey look of film, even on my DVD copy. Chock-full of trivia—which I’m sure is also on the film’s IMDb page—I had fun with the “Halloween Unmasked” featurette, too. Learned a lot about the film I hadn’t known before.

The new film looks promising—the same tone and what looks like reverence towards the original. Jamie Lee Curtis returning as an older, wiser, yet scarred Laurie Strode is a neat take—more drastic than the Halloween 2.0, but which is also a fun watch.

Solid *****/ ‘Risk Assessment. This is truly the Gone With the Wind of horror—my A Christmas Carol for the most boo-ful time of year.