Halloween

Alright, look. I know most of you have seen the first Halloween, and that it’s rather old. But I’m still going to write about it, and for three reasons. For one, it’s now available on Shudder, a streaming site which runs five bucks a month. Second, the last time it played for me was on a VHS I bought in the nineties. And lastly, well, it’s the namesake holiday season, and I’m a huge fan.

Seeing it now in crispy high-def, I’m reminded why I not only love this film, but the genre it epitomizes. John Carpenter’s minimalist approach works on so many levels, and the fact that it isn’t 1978 anymore doesn’t make this style any less successful.

Let’s start with the music, those eighth-notes on piano which resonated with me so much as a child. To me, the opening theme is fear. Whether it is of being watched, being followed, or just the general unknown, Carpenter’s simple score arouses paranoia in me every time.

The number of shooting locations are very few. No elaborate sets were used, and everything takes place in one American suburb. The exteriors and interiors of homes are modest and middle-class; there’s nothing particularly fancy or conspicuous about them. This sense of nondescript makes Halloween all the more scary—a scenario like this can happen anywhere.

Not a casting choice is wasted here; every role is necessary and doesn’t try too hard. The less-is-more approach would at the same time create a character which set the mold for future slasher heroines—Laurie Strode. The babysitter (Jamie Lee Curtis), who may or may not be the sister of Michael Myers, has a firm stronghold in American cinema, even after forty years. Several other horror films have cashed in on the routine: young female protagonist bests a murdering stalker. Yet few can touch even the fingertips on this one.

Much of that lies in the lack of gore and viscera. If there’s anything that really makes this hold up it’s the sparing use of such effects. The only blood you ever see is on the one person who manages to evade Myers time and again. Of the actual kills, half of them are shot in full focus, and both are quite dark.

It’s what made Texas Chainsaw work so well, too. Minimal everything. Both harp on your fears and anxieties in so many ways without having to resort to fake-looking gore and convoluted set-ups. A lot of issues with the horror genre come from a propensity to depart from reliability. Once people don’t believe, it’s hard to keep watching. Halloween never does this, making it refreshing to experience horror at its most unassuming. I hope you do too this season.

Cheers.