'Halloween' Review: Fan-Service Sequel is a Cut Above

For years the Halloween franchise has been trying (and failing) to find new relevancy in the expanding market of mainstream horror movies, so naturally Halloween (2018) is arriving with heavy weight of expectation and/or skepticism on its back. However, filmmakers David Gordon Green and Danny McBride bring a palpable love and appreciation of John Carpenter's groundbreaking original film along for this new sequel, and the result is a much-needed revisit to the franchise roots, as well as a much-needed step forward into a new era.

The story picks up forty years after the original Halloween, ignoring all of the later events and retcons of the franchise's sequels and reboots. We find Laurie Strode (Jamie Lee Curtis) living as a damaged and militant Sarah Connor-type, endlessly training and preparing for what she sees as an inevitable rematch with Michael Myers. That singular focus has cost Laurie any semblance of a normal or healthy life, including a relationship with her daughter Karen (Judy Greer), and granddaughter Allyson (Andi Matichak).

For those close to her it seems as though Laurie is mentally-ill - an old woman a stuck in a trauma that's decades old. However, old becomes new again when some naive true-life crime reporters attempt to make contact with Michael Myers, and instead fan the flames of evil. During a prison transfer Michael manages to escape and make his way back to the town of Haddonfield, where he immediately goes back to his usual routine, murdering and maiming under the cover of Halloween night. As soon as news of Michael Myers' escape spreads the manhunt begins - but Laurie knows there's only one endgame to this conflict, and she heads out into the night to confront the evil that once scarred her, and still threatens her family.

Halloween (2018) is very much a fan-service experience, operating as both a new chapter of the franchise, and a winking, meta-minded commentary on the franchise itself. Green and McBride pump the film full of Easter eggs and odes to both Carpenter's original Halloween and the later sequels; there are even a few humorous jabs thrown at Rob Zombie's much-maligned 2000s reboot. Better yet, the filmmakers pull some clever twists on familiar story beats and scenes from the early films, which will both delight and surprise longtime fans. Even though Halloween (2018) doesn't reinvent the slasher film formula, or even inject it with a lot of novelty, it does honor the sub-genre's beginnings in a way that is more infectiously fun than a lot of attempted reboots/remakes/sequels, which largely end up being empty imitation, rather than inspired emulation.

Unfortunately, the story by Green, McBride, and longtime collaborator Jeff Fradley is where a lot of the drawbacks to Halloween can be found. The film gets points for attempting to tell a deeper and powerful story about the trauma of victimization, and the hard road to getting over it (indeed, timely themes for the current #MeToo movement sweeping through our culture). However, while ambition and depth are definitely in the mix, those more serious themes are often at odds with the comedic and winking moments of slasher-horror genre staples -ss and even more so at odds with the filmmakers' indulgence in comedic asides, which they pepper throughout the movie. The tonal imbalance leaves the second act of Halloween meandering through a fog of unfocused purpose, and it quickly becomes clear that an overabundance of characters and storylines will not converge into a streamlined final act.

By act three of Halloween, a lot of the extraneous characters and stories are thankfully slashed away, and we get back to the real focus of three women of different generations, all dealing with the same struggle of either being a victim, or reclaiming their own power. The final showdown between the Strode family and Michael Myers is worth that slog through the middle section, delivering a viscerally satisfying ending that should keep most fans happy.

Most of what makes the first and second acts work so well can be attributed to Jamie Lee Curtis, who delivers one of her best and most powerful performances in years. Curtis' Laurie Strode almost occupies an entire dramatic film all her own (until her fateful reunion with Michael), and it's one that would be worthy of awards season recognition. The original "Scream Queen" steps in and once again proves why she's such a beloved icon of the genre, while the new Michael Myers (James Jude Courtney) is similarly good at taking things back to the root of the fearsome "Shape" that John Carpenter envisioned. Courtney's hulking stature and sleek movements convey a predatory precision and total lack of "character" - which is, in essence, the only actual characteristic that Michael Myers was originally intended to have: inhuman killing machine, unburdened by thought or empathy.

In the end, Halloween (2018) is a sweet taste of the past, given a modern polish. The actual scares will be best suited for those who didn't see all the best parts spoiled in trailers, but there's also a lot of substance beneath the horror gimmick, whether its the moving drama, or irreverent celebration of Halloween and the slasher-horror sub-genre it helped foster. Michael Myers has stabbed his way into a new lease on life.

Halloween (2018) hits theaters on October 19th. It is 1h 46min long, and "Rated R for horror violence and bloody images, language, brief drug use and nudity."

Rating (Out of 5 Stars): ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️