Wednesday, October 19, 2022

SLEAZE FEATURE: 'HALLOWEEN KILLS' (2021)


 

[From my FB in 2021]



Halloween Kills is not a good movie.

Hell, it’s not even a movie, except in the technical sense.

It’s instead a series of linked vignettes, like Halloween: The Series: The Webisodes: The Movie.  And based on the themes addressed—and that’s me being charitable to presume there’s actually deeper meaning(s) at play, as the whole work may ultimately be one big middle finger—a weekly Criminal Minds: Haddonfield would’ve been the right path.


The flick starts with a new ending to OG Halloween (1978), thereby bridging the gap between that and now-the-only-canonical-entry Halloween (2018) (ugh—these naming conventions!) and revealing how the lethal lummox got incarcerated.  Flashbacks aplenty (“authentic” and “new retcon” alike… yay, CGI’d dead actors!) fill the runtime (which takes place in the few hours immediately after H2018), and serve to fill in the backstories of lotsa Haddonfield locals.

Lotsa, lotsa locals, including many pulled from H1978, like menaced kiddos all grown up and nurses and old-timer lawmen.

Soooooo many locals that Jamie Lee Curtis is a guest star in her own damned franchise.  I hope you don’t care much about Laurie Strode, because she’s barely in the picture.  Yep, just as in 1981’s awful and altogether pointless (when it was topical, and even more so now) Halloween II, Laurie Strode spends all her time in a hospital; unlike in 1981, Strode and The Shape never interact.  At all.   (The cineaste in me thinks this is meta-commentary on Halloween II itself and sequels in general, but again, that may be giving credit where none is deserved.)

The bat gets more celluloid than Strode.


And, say, about those locals?  The various Halloween Kills trailers made it seem like all of Haddonfield’s residents band together to eradicate the monster in their midst.  That’s a fantastic take for a slasher flick, and one that’s barely been scratched in the genre; the only examples of which I’m aware are Halloween IV: The Return Of Michael Myers (1988) (which bungled the idea entirely due to budgets, the MPAA, and gross ineptitude) and Victor Crowley (2017) (aka Hatchet IV, where waves of competent first-responders are gloriously rendered into slurry).  But the promise of the previews—which, frankly, portray a better movie about collective trauma and the effects thereof than the final product—doesn’t pay off, because like all mobs with torches and pitchforks (literally—yep, there’s Chekhov’s pitchfork… siiiiiighhhhh), thangs go awry.  But stupider than usually so, which may be another thematic point.

Or not.

(As I said, the folks behind the camera may be straight-up trolling the fanbase, which is a wholly new supposition for your beloved cultural critic.  I always presume artists bring their best intentions even if fiascos ensue… but in this case, some choices *have* to be purposeful Bronx cheers.

The only other explanation is cocaine, which, in nose candy’s defense, is how we got OG Halloween II in the first place.  Points for more symmetry, I guess.)

The plethora of extras leaves equally too many and zero characters to care about.  Almost everyone is introduced only to be murdered, with the “when” and “how” being the only variables.

There's Not Even Enough Left Of The Gays To Bury


And, boy howdy, those hows. This is the most sadistic, brutal, and gory of the twelve(!) Halloween movies, and none of those terms are complements (and y’all know my gruehound bonafides).  Historically, the majority of Michael’s worst kills were seen only in aftermath; there’d be a mangled body here or a strung-up corpse there or some dismembered bits over yonder.  But this time… this time, you see Michael eviscerate and exsanguinate and stabbalize and impalify, and even worse, he makes a bombastic show of bloodshed to torment onlookers.  (It’s always been implied that The Shape feeds on terror, what with some of his more “puckish” stunts involving bedsheets and tombstones and props ensuring maximum freak-out-osity, but here “implied” gives way to “jackhammered to the brainpan”.)

The overall effect makes Halloween Kills a carny geekshow instead a slow-burning fairy tale of menace.  That didn’t work when Rob Zombie took the series reins, and it doesn’t work now.

Other tidbits from the copious notes taken during the film (which is the truest indicator of my disengagement):

) If you took a shot every time someone bellows, “EVIL DIES TONIGHT!!!” you’d be wheeled out on a gurney.

) H2018 gave us glimpses of maskless-Michael, making him old and haggard.  We get even more askance peeps here, effectively making him look like Dr. Loomis.  Maybe that’s why hologram-Donald Pleasence was so blatant…?  Another (altogether clumsy) attempt at the Ahab metaphor…?

"Ahhhh.  The old 'hunted has become the hunter' trick, eh?"


) The soundtrack has some great spins on the original score. It also has some mockably maudlin tracks straight from daytime soap operas. The tonal shifts would be hysterical if they weren’t so maddening.

) At least Chekhov’s pitchfork had a twist.  Still, siiiiiighhhhhh.

) The climactic sequence makes zero sense, and I can’t discern if it’s shoddy editing, blasé stupidity, or another pointed fuck-you.  There’s a bloodbath in the street—with gunfire!!!—that cuts back and forth to bystanders *right there* getting medical attention.  Yet not a single person on the sidelines acknowledges the scrum nor copious screams, and then A Very Specific Bystander sees a ghost(!) and wanders off to meet doom with still no one noticing.  The setpiece is contradictory and nonsensical, making the last five minutes a lesser David Lynch joint.

) The SWEET MERCIFUL CRAP Award: Turns out the only reason The Shape went after Laurie and her brood four decades on is because …is because… oh, I cannot believe this is real… is because HE GOT ACCIDENTALLY DROPPED OFF AT HER PROPERTY.

) Rob Zombie’s entries look better and better by comparison.   Truly, we are living in The Darkest Timeline.

Time For A Rewatch, I Reckon


) Like many mid-‘80s horror flicks, there’s a power metal jam over the closing credits.  I legit brayed like a donkey.  Can’t wait to hear “The Myers Rap” in next year’s Halloween Ends!!!



) My honest, for-real, hand-to-Satan last scribbling in my phone, quoted verbatim, typo and all: “prettty sure this was dog shit”

Probably should’ve led with that.

Final Score:  Half a rotting jack-o'-lantern outta five.




THIS IS PLANET MOTHERFUCKER

 









Sunday, October 16, 2022