Halloween (John Carpenter, 1978)
A masterclass in pure cinema — and a perfect horror movie!
The list of “perfect movies” that virtually everyone would agree on is fairly limited; and they are all Movies with a capital “M.”
We’re not talking films here, we’re talking Movies — pure, unadulterated, shamelessly popcorn-and-butter Movies.
That pretty much limits it to genre movies of the classic sort. Die Hard is a perfect action movie. Jurassic Park is a perfect adventure movie. Ocean’s Eleven is a perfect heist movie.
And Halloween is a perfect horror movie.
I’ll skip the whole bit about Halloween being the first slasher to properly codify the subgenre. Likewise, I’ll sidestep the whole “choose your own timeline” franchise mess of it all — because while some of the many sequels and reboots are awful, others are variably decent but none of them can hold a candle to the original. Sure, I’d like to fantasize about what might have been, had Carpenter’s original vision for the franchise — a different type of scary story each movie — been realized, but I shall restrain myself.
Instead, I’ll focus solely on the film in question: Halloween. 1978. The original.
It is beautifully simplistic film with almost everything that happens taking place over the course of a single day and night: an escaped psychopath escapes a high-security asylum and returns to his childhood home where he encounters a teenage girl named Laurie.
Laurie was just dropping off a key under the abandoned house’s doormat for her father, a realtor. But Michael — the deranged killer in question — becomes obsessed with her and stalks her throughout the day; following her in a stolen vehicle, spying on her first from behind a hedge and later from behind a washing line, before eventually following her to the house where she is babysitting eight-year-old Tommy.
It is Halloween night and there is a sense of creepiness in the air, although it is not at all pervasive. Besides a few glimpses of trick or treaters, several pumpkins, and the black-and-white horror movie marathons running on TV, this particular October 31 was relatively chill.
At least in the house where Laurie is babysitting. Young Tommy had been teased by bullies at school about the boogeyman, but Laurie assures him that the boogeyman isn’t real.
Except he is.
Laurie’s story is intercut with that of Dr. Loomis — Michael’s psychiatrist and the only person who truly understands how dangerous Michael is. Loomis teams up with the local sheriff and stalks out Michael’s childhood home, certain that he will show up eventually, and undoubtedly go on a murder spree.
Meanwhile, Michael is already targeting his chosen prey: Laurie. And as an appetizer he is eliminating anyone who might be able to help her. That means her friend and fellow babysitter in the house across the street, then the horny couple that turn up to hang out and take advantage of a stranger’s empty bed while the grownups are gone for the night.
Gradually, the screws are turned and the innocence is shattered. The quaint, idyllic, suburban town of Haddonfield, Illinois becomes ground zero for nightmarish evil and bloody violence.
Perhaps what makes Halloween so effective even almost fifty years later is that it isn’t trying too hard. Its sheer simplicity is its secret weapon. There are no CGI effects, no grand set pieces. There’s just a simple and straightforward human-oriented story told in a classically cinematic way: the camera angles, the camera movements, the mise en scene carefully and purposefully telling the story, conveying the appropriate mood, and cultivating the desired reactions from its audience.
Halloween might be John Carpenter’s best movie. It might also be his best score.
It is, inarguably, a perfect Halloween movie.