HALLOWEEN: 25 YEARS OF TERROR

Stunning the cinematic world in 1978 with an approach to fear as devoted to the stylistic evocation of suggestion as it was to menacing atmosphere, John Carpenter's Halloween lent the lagging genre a primal simplicity and subversive fervor lacking in a field overpopulated by gothic European imagery and a dependence on folklore. Responsible for wrangling horror away from its inaccessible, impersonal cinematic roots -- the terrors of Hollywood and the independents often grounded in such grand-gothic imagery as foreign creatures, alien threats, and supernatural motifs -- Carpenter instilled his deceivingly simplistic plot of carnal cat-and-mouse with complex sub-texts, evoking a sense of paranoia, distrust, and the uncanny applicable to both the individual and society at large.

Few require a plot synopsis of the film that became, for better or worse, the prototype for en entire sub-genre. Lending further anxiety to baby setting, the trade of teenaged girls everywhere, Halloween fed off and contributing to the culturally significant atmosphere and preconceived notions of terror, mystery, and chaos that the night itself evoked (the Celtic Samhain, 'Summer's end'). Carpenter created in his deceivingly simplistic mingling of the unknown and naturalistic a decidedly 'modern' legend whose thematic and stylistic echoes would reverberate for decades. Inspiring countless sub-genres and imitations, from the much-maligned modern/post-modern 'Slasher' to such individual examples as Friday the 13, Terror Train, and A Nightmare On Elm Street, no one film or movement has ever proved capable of mirroring the brutally simple yet emotionally intense suspense of the original Halloween. No other film, despite storylines or intentions, has benefited from as primal a story, inventive script-writing, inspired direction, or impressively accurate performances.

As much a refutation of everyday logic as it is a story whose surface elements occur 'primarily' within the parameters of everyday realism, Halloween is notable for using this pre-conceived and carefully maintained sense of realism in its characters and setting, employing such to make its increasingly darker and more violent disruptions of both the natural order and, finally, its shattering final refutations of reality so very believable. The winding streets and shadowy corridors, the sympathetic scrawny 'final girl,' and the presence of the leaf-ridden night itself evoke belief from the audience, mirroring the fear that they feel towards Michael himself. Both of these 'characters' lead to the more substantial themes of personal awkwardness, cultural isolation, fear of bodily harm, and sexual interest -- all weaved into an emotional vivisection which invites the audience to suspend disbelief when the more horrific/fantastical elements of the film transpire. Because careful characterization and establishment of mood has already invited our empathy, we find it easier to believe the shape represents death and mystery personified.

Combining exploitative surface imagery and archetypal resonance at the very same time that the plot itself keeps us focused on bodily attacks, Halloween has its cake and eats it too, making it possible in its aesthetic balance between the everyday and the possibly supernatural for viewers to believe that Michael is both a flesh-and-blood killer, very real and very dangerous, and at the same time, paradoxically, a shadowy figure from the more illusive realm of urban legend and the supernatural. Both symbol and substance, man and nightmare, Carpenter finds in Michael Myers a form for essentially shapeless urges and fears. Michael is both an immediate bodily threat representing psychological disease, violent death, and subversion, he is also a myth made flesh, with his anti-social, mysteriously motivated murder sprees, his resistance to death, and his embodiment of the unknown (itself further mirrored by his mask) mirroring our own animal urges, dark desires, culturally shared terrors, and sense of awe when in the presence of the sublime.

Just as importantly to those who enjoy their horrors without critical examination, and for studios whose only nightmare is an empty bank account, Halloween and Michael Myers (if not John Carpenter) proved the financial worth of the independently made exploitation film. While Carpenter wrote and helped produce Halloween (2), other companies were busy affixing stalkers to various other holidays in a parade of lackluster unconscious parodies and remakes that would make the eighties the decade of 'the creative kill.' While there is a particular joy in the Body Count flick, first expressed in the Italian Giallo (which Carpenter himself appears indebted to), and some films require a celebration of excessive violence, what a majority of these Halloween clones lacked was the original's style and atmosphere. Halloween (2), the sequel, expanded on the origins and motivations of its masked symbol, paradoxically stripping him/it of some of his mystery by affixing to him any one rationale while lending the story further mythological ties, yet paled in terms of atmosphere or pacing. Season of the Witch was a failure both at the box office and among fans (a shame, considering its genuinely eerie atmosphere and wonderful storyline). With Halloween (4): The Return of Michael Myers, the series would find new dark life and a sense of energy that, while not matching the vividness of the original, managed to imbue its terrifying archetype -- which is exactly what Michael had become -- with new, disturbing life.

A stylish, energetic return to the series, welcomed by die-hard fans and detested by purists believing nothing could top the first entry, Halloween (4): The Return of Michael Myers echoes of the original film's atmosphere, seasonal chill, and fervor. Little's direction, while not as inspired as Carpenter's, does a commendable job of evoking concern for characters, atmosphere, and sense of place. His is more of an homage to the original than a sequel -- at least in feel -- while both the story and his handling of the narrative expand upon the mythology in a pleasing, believable manner. Despite minor flaws in pacing, this chapter is colorful, vivid in its depiction of the holiday in question, and mirrors manages the primal dread of the first film while injecting new elements into what had risked becoming an old story.

Directed with panache by Dwight Little, the film ignores Season of the Witch and builds an increasingly complex story based on the general concepts introduced in part (2). Although Sam Loomis died in a fiery inferno along with Michael at the end of the first sequel, we're introduced immediately to the fact that both are alive . . .if not well -- with Michael in an insane asylum and Loomis belonging in one. Beginning with a darkly beautiful flurry of seasonal exterior shots of late October/Halloween season amidst rural small town landscapes, the movie introduces us to a comatose Michael, in route to another institute. We're not so much surprised by his resurrection into consciousness as we are enthralled by Loomis' crazed obsession in tracking down his ex-patient. Clearly this film marked a growth in the doctor's obsession, making him almost as dangerous as Michael in his hunger to destroy him. As a burned (righteously pissed-off!) Donald Pleasence 'stalks' the stalker back to Haddonfield, we're introduced to young Jamie (Danielle Harris), Michael's niece. In short time Michael is hot on her trail, looking to introduce her to his butcher knife.

A worthy follow-up to a film that can never be duplicated or improved upon, Halloween (4) manages to evoke its own share of scares, layering decidedly sensitive characterization and a mood similar (if not equal) to the original with undeniable energy and professionalism. Layering in various nods for fans of the first two features, and treating its characters with more attention to detail, believability, and emotional integrity than is usual for sequels, this film chisels its own identity across an eerily beautiful Autumn setting which symbolizes in its orange skies, sunsets, windy leaves, and funeral wreaths of smoke the sinister cycle of life and death itself.

Besides director Little's craftsman-like direction, this entry boasts composer Alan Howarth's creepily effective score, weaving his own melodic strains with Carpenter's original, and performances by Harris and Cornell that are sympathetic without crossing the line into sickly-sweet. If the ending is a bit trite, exchanging originality for a predictable 'eternal reoccurrence' which is, let's be honest, anything but surprising, there is nevertheless a fit of chills inspired by the sight of Jamie in her clown costume holding a bloody knife (ala Uncle Mike!).

Atmosphere is particularly important to the emotional and symbolic effectiveness of this entry, dressing skewered shots in chillingly funeral finery. Pumpkin eyes and scarecrows, looming buildings and shadow-drenched interiors dress the action and characters in an explosion of mood. Every bit as much a character as the living personas, settings mirror the internal moods and motivations of its characters while preparing audiences to feel dread or relief. Atmosphere is easily as rooted in the consciousness as in set design. Smalltown USA remains a crucial element to the narrative, useful both practically and expressively. The social façade of small town safety is no less a mask than that which Michael wears, and both are mirror images to the disguises of polite society, law, and rule that society itself depends on to hide from/deny its own inherent savagery. This is grim stuff, but its dressed up in such fun fashion that its depressing message is for the most part lost in what remains a decidedly made-for-profit if effective thriller. Offering both its shares of homage and individuality, fright and fun, Halloween (4) is perhaps the best of the sequels.

Anchor Bay's presentation of Halloween 4 improves on previous incarnations of both Fox's release and its own. The widescreen image is transferred with much clarity and special attention to color and composition. Presented in its original theatrical aspect ratio (1.85:1), the picture is enhanced for 16X9 features, lacking the grain and occasional surface glitches of previous releases. The picture is sharp and clear, presented to the horror-hungry masses in a DiviMax™ special edition, whose most obvious selling point is the film's first ever high-definition transfer. This tone of quality is mirrored by an audio track weighing in with Dolby Digital 5.1 surround sound and 2.0 -- both of which are crisp and concise, effectively distinguishing between dialogue and the emotionally provocative score.

Showing respect for these often-maligned sequels, Anchor Bay should be commended for taking the time to not only restore the visual and audio elements of the features with such care and craftsmanship but, in addition, for crafting extras materials which lend the films further social and aesthetic context. The most significant extras are two commentaries, both of which are valuable for different reasons. The first, featuring actresses Ellie Cornell and Danielle Harris, is an engaging, 'feel good' chick-chat where the fun personalities of the women bleed through their memories of various fellow cast members, fond thoughts of Donald Pleasence, and the difficulties and joys of making the movie. While nothing crucial about the making of the film is unearthed, and the comments are generalized, more akin to an informal chat than a critical examination of the film and its themes/techniques, this is part of its charm.

The second audio commentary, featuring writer Alan B. Mcelroy, is much more intelligent, focusing more intently on the storyline, themes, and technical aspects of the movie, including how he wrote the screenplay in 11 days, his initial death scene for Sheriff Mears, the days he spent with director Little scouting for rural locations that captured a nostalgic Halloween mood, etc. Moderated by Anthony Masi, who does a fine job keeping the discussion flowing, Mcelroy is a joy to listen to. Amongst his many acute observations of the effectiveness of the original film and Michael Myers, he finds time to discuss Pleasence, his conscious decision to make the script a tribute of the original, and, or much interest, his initial wish to film a beginning scene with Loomis thrown back from the explosion at the end of part (2), which didn't make it into the film. Congrats to Anchor Bay for remembering the importance of the writer to a movie when so many fans and studios forget!

Another significant extra is the Halloween 4/5 Discussion Panel, both of which took place at the H25 Convention. While these same conventions are also included in the 25 Years of Terror documentary as extras, fans not owning that disc set will enjoy hearing Danielle Harris, Kathleen Kinmont, Sasha Jenson, and Jeffrey Landman speak about their roles, experiences on set, and how Danielle Harris felt about not being included in the newer films. Kinmont admits her fear of horror movies, Harris is fun and quirky, and more remembrances of Pleasence. In general, this is an appreciated appendix to the film. Halloween 4: Final Cut digs deeper into the making of the feature, exploring the producer's motivations as well as the aesthetic results. Dwight Little mentions how he was contacted about the film when finishing his film Blood Stone, and his relationship with writer Mcelroy. Both writer and director have much of interest to say in this featurette, focusing on the character of the town of Haddonfield, their desire to make it resemble the look and feel of the original film, and how close they think they realized their goals. Finally, trailers for Halloween 4, Halloween 5, Halloween, and Masters of Horror round out the festivities.

Following where the torrid plot-line of characterizations of part 4 left off, Halloween (5): The Revenge Of Michael Meyers is one of the most controversial (if not the most despised) entrees in the series that fed on the primal fear of October. Originally the night when spirits of the dead (and, in many cultures, the demonic and universally feared Faerie) awaked abroad, sharing the earth with helpless, hapless living denizens, Halloween contributed its own all-too-human Boogieman to the ghostly crew. Neither completely mortal nor transparently supernatural, Michael's character is perhaps best described as a force -- like an element of nature, this cross-cultural embodiment of myth and nightmare is both a deadly intimate force capable of twisting off your neck and the archetypal symbol of our entire culture's obsessive fear and fascination with the unknown.

And just as the night which the movies are traditionally set upon lend a degree of authenticity and mythic resonance to Meyer's slaughter-fests by its submersion in a hundreds of years of history and folklore, appealing as much to our cultural unconscious as to our surface fears, allowing the film to evoke fear in methods both direct and symbolic, so too do the various sequels of the original have at their disposal a variety of stylistic and thematic options to exercise when defining their depiction of Michael, mood, and narrative attack. While many have been content to wisely situate their vision into the re-established mythos and feeling of the original, beginning with the rather slow-paced if thematically intriguing part two, and others have opted to ignore the Michael myth altogether (Season of the Witch), still others attempt to subvert and change the context and story approach of Michael from within the formula. One such director was Dominuque Girard, whose handling of a screenplay by Shem Bitterman is a bizarre departure from the conventional story structure, theme, and contexts of the previous films, resulting in a film that is either hated or loved for the variations in style and subject that infused this return to the scariest night of the year.

Lending further complexity (some would no doubt say 'confusion') to a plot which had already seen Michael transform from an unstoppable killing machine/persona (so very scary because he seemed to have no rationale for stalking his victims) to a character who was induced by spectral rage to kill his relatives, this chapter in the Halloween saga lends to the fearsome festivities the intriguing (if unnecessary) themes of the 'thorn' symbol (expounded upon in part 6), and, more importantly, created between Jamie and her Uncle a psychic link. Making the relationship between characters more intimate and intriguing, the film moves still further away from the effective simplicity of the original. Exchanging suspense for a chaotic ménage of black-booted mystery men packing automatic firearms, a mind-boggling jail-break that ended the film in perhaps the worst cliff-hanger in horror history, and a stormy stew of half-glimpsed supernatural suggestions and irritating teeni-bopper angst, this confused if entertaining film is perhaps the most individual o the series, if also the most frustrating.

Nearing Halloween 1989, Haddonfield prepares for another harvest of horror by venting its displeasure on Jamie (the heroine of H4) who has discovered a psychic link now exists between her and 'uncle Boogieman.' Housed in Haddonfield's Children's Hospital after attacking her stepmother the previous year, she is scrutinized and harassed in surprising (and emotionally scathing) fashion by a Dr. Loomis who is now more Rasputin and/or Inquisitorial warrior than psychologist, played with feverish intensity and believability by late Donald Pleasance. Not saying a word since she attacked her stepmother, Jamie experiences dreaded premonitions of terror as Halloween Eve approaches, terrorized by the shadow of her uncle on one hand and the fanatical Loomis on the other. As her stepsister Rachel is murdered and Rachel's friend Tina prepares for a seasonal barn party amidst several foreboding glimpses of Michael, red herrings, and rasped warnings from Loomis, the big night approaches, bringing a cataclysmic showdown between Jamie, Michael, and Loomis with it. Ending where the terror began, Loomis descends into a depth of depravity and amorality nearly as black as Michael's in his decision to use Jamie as bait, luring his adversary back to his childhood home.

A marriage of fragmented narrative blind-alleys and malevolent missteps, this script (and the direction) are often misleading and incomplete, promising more than is delivered by a story so very irritating because in its finer moments it does suggest a uniqueness of vision and approach that is never allowed the time or context to properly materialize. Instead we get a brutal barrage of visually pleasing if not very intellectually or emotionally satisfying images and plot-lines severed like the pulse in one of Michael's victims. Seeped in style and surface gloss, this addition to the series looks absolutely wonderful. From the stylized beginning credits where a savage knife guts a pumpkin interwoven with flashbacks of Michael's suspected death from part 4, to such subsequent non-sense as an old hobo dragging Michael's comatose body into his shack for no discernible reason (where Michael stays for an entire year without moving until apparently deciding to slit said hermit's neck?!) photography, lighting, and an inspired composition of shots is both captivating and visually astounding. Unfortunately the same effort and energy didn't go into the side-winding story, which while undeniably brave in its efforts to do something new with a basic premise threatening to stale evokes more questions (and unsatisfying ambiguity) than aesthetic pleasure.

Certainly not a great film, nor even a quite successful sequel, Halloween (5) does manage to develop its own identity. There is no mistaking it for other films in the series. If stock-characters of typically unsympathetic teen-agers, abruptly discarded plot-lines, and an uneven tapestry of unexplained mysteries surrounding typically idiotic reactions to dangerous situations makes the film fail as a satisfying narrative, the director's undeniable sense of innovation, experimentalism, and love for imagery recommends it as an exercise in style. Despite problems in resolving problems of characterization and thematic developments never resolved, the psychic link between Jamie and Michael and the increased interaction between Loomis and his nemesis are both enjoyable and innovative.

Given similar love as Part 4, The Revenge of Michael Meyers is presented in HD widescreen, anamorphic ally enhanced. Extras for this feisty freak-show of stylistic excess and fragmented consciousness include a commentary with director Dominique Othenin-Girard and Actors Danielle Harris and Jeffrey Landman. Informative and entertaining, the director sounds as self-opinionated as you would expect, waves of idiosyncrasy coating his opinions about the series, the film, and his contribution to a legend. The actors are more down to earth if just as unique, bubbling with personality and a sense of intimacy that lends greater emotional depth to the track. This insider's look at the film and some of its principle crew and cast is followed by "Inside Halloween 5," a documentary featuring rare footage, behind-the-scenes glimpses, and a voyeur's tour through some lesser known dimensions of this troubled sequel. Interviews with Danielle Harris, Ellie Cornell, Don Shanks, Executive Producer Moustapha Akkad and Cinematographer Rob Draper follow, as does an Introduction by Danielle Harris and Ellie Cornell. Lastly, the disc reveals never-before-seen footage, lending a further air of discovery for the dark devotee, and an enjoyable theatrical trailer.

Review by William P. Simmons