After watching this movie, I couldn’t decide what would happen if I ever met Rob Zombie. Part of me wanted to ruffle his hair and say “Aw, well at least you tried,” while another, probably stronger part, leaves me more inclined to tell him “Thanks for singing ‘Dragula,'” and just not talk about Halloween.
The aforementioned E-for-Effort hair-tussling would be inspired by the first half of the movie, wherein we focus on young Michael Myers and the domestic hell-hole in which he was raised. When we first meet Michael, he is being neglected by his sister, bullied by, well, bullies, and abused by his mother’s boyfriend. The only supportive (or at least minimally destructive) forces in his life are his doting, but limited mother and his as-yet-untainted baby sister. Ideally, all of these factors would lead us to understand exactly what could transform a human being into a killer, but, as terrible as his upbringing is, the brutality that he later shows outweighs whatever unfortunate circumstances he has come from. Later in the movie, Michael’s psychiatrist, Dr. Loomis, explains Michael’s psychosis as a (paraphrase) “perfect storm of internal and external factors.” This seems to make sense as, even as an occasionally smiling child, Michael has demonstrated a taste for violence, brutally murdering and maiming animals and pets along his path. Which is great, except for the fact that Michael seems to be doomed to a life of brutality from the beginning. All his messed-up family life has done is provide him an outlet for his aggression. Or, maybe we’re supposed to get the impression that in a better, more supportive environment, Michael could have learned to ignore or redirect his violent impulses (Dexter style), but if that’s the idea we’re supposed to come away with… it’s really not.
Regardless, we have this semi-intriguing origin story that leads to Michael’s eventual incarceration in a mental institution. There, he regresses, becoming a silent creature of incredible rage. After over a decade of meetings, Dr. Loomis eventually abandons any hope of Michael’s rehabilitation. At this point, the movie just kind of stops trying and falls into the habits and rituals of every other slasher movie. The next hour is just a mess of mindless stabbings, inconstancies, and boobs. Any effort that went into creating a reason and logic behind Michael’s eventual homicidal rampage goes right out the window when the illogical moments start coming down. Like when a) Micheal stealing a man half his size’s clothing, yet they fit perfectly or b) everyone gets killed mid-coitus, or c) a guy gets stuck to the wall by way of a kitchen knife that isn’t long enough to penetrate his body.
The second half is just a mess of violence, held together (and I use that phrase very loosely) by clichés and actors who apparently were never teenagers themselves, but only learned what they act like by watching movies like this.
Just save yourself the trouble and skip the movie, no matter what kind of mood you’re in this Halloween.