FINALLY. A Halloween movie worthy of the title. Move aside, Rob Zombie, nobody wanted you around anyway.
Jamie Lee Curtis is back in a big way as Laurie Strode, her iconic heroine, forty years after her introductory role catapulted her to stardom. Laurie lives an isolated life, dealing with her PTSD by fortifying her lone home out in the countryside. Unfortunately, her efforts to prepare for Michael Myers's inevitable return have also cost her more than physical labor and thicker walls. After two failed marriages, her daughter Karen (Judy Greer) was taken by child services, but not before Laurie worked to train her with weapons and combat. Karen, now an adult, still lives in Haddonfield but maintains a strained relationship with her mother, largely trying to keep Laurie away from her granddaughter Allyson (Andi Matichak).
The story itself begins and unfolds much as that of the 1978 film: Michael breaks out from his asylum during a transfer and goes on a murderous rampage. This time, however, he isn't so much an unpredictable stalker-killer as he is a walking bloodbath. The body count is bigger in his first scene here than it was in the entire original film. Each death is more visually stunning and creative than the last, and while that sounds desperate on the filmmakers' part, it's actually quite effective in making Michael more terrifying -- he isn't restricted to a kitchen knife anymore. He also isn't restricted in his choice of victims now. He will kill and kill and kill on this night, seemingly making up for all the lost time.
In addition to the piles of corpses, this movie does some fascinating work in both re-imagining the original film and in following up with it. It quickly and absolutely discounts the events of all other sequels in the franchise, making itself the one and only sequel that matters. Which it arguably is. I'll always consider the 1981 sequel canon, because it's just fabulous, and it continues the story from the original quickly and concisely (with the exception of the whole Laurie-and-Michael-are-siblings thing).
This picture maintains a high level of both drama and horror, with emotional outbursts from Laurie and her daughter and granddaughter interspersed with them each being badass. Of course, the rest of the film similarly balances comedy, character development, and -- already mentioned -- some surprisingly brutal violence. The visuals and editing are definitely more David Gordon Green than John Carpenter, but Carpenter's palpable influence permeates the picture through music and images (which is appropriate, as Carpenter is credited for music). Green clearly struggles to both isolate his own vision for the movie and honor Carpenter and his fans, though a few gorgeous moments eke their way onto the screen; when Michael returns to Haddonfield there's a long take of him walking amongst trick-or-treaters and entering houses to...well, you know.
And then there's the film's climax, when Michael assaults Laurie's house and all three generations of women. I gasped aloud when I realized, quickly, that the scene would play out as an ingenious reversal of the original's climax. Without spoiling too much, it's nice to see the victims not only turn the tables but to in fact use their apparent helplessness to their own advantage. In an era of #MeToo and accountability and both recognizing and overcoming trauma, Halloween isn't just a fun and spooky movie. It's an important one.
IMDb: Halloween
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