Halloween (2018)

40 years since Michael Myers, The Shape, first terrorised the quiet town of Haddonfield on Halloween night. Although audiences didn’t know it, John Carpenter’s Halloween was the start of something special when it hit the big screen in 1978. It not only introduced us to one of the most famous killers to be put to film, but it laid the groundwork for every slasher film that followed it. Sure, the rules it set were sometimes bent and occasionally broken, but its influence can still be felt in every masked killer horror film that has come out in the years since it made those rules. Four decades, seven – not always watchable – sequels, and a much maligned reboot later, Blumhouse, one of the biggest names in modern horror, brought Halloween back. And expectations were high. 

It’s been a long time since the kid with a penchant for masks and stabbing people found his way back to his home town, grown up, angry, and ready to take it out on any babysitter he could find. Now, having wallowed in Smith’s Grove Asylum for 40 years, an ill-fated bus trip to a new prison ends with a crash and Michael on the loose. Carving a bloody trail towards his hometown, The Shape appears to be single-minded in his need to finish what he started all those years ago and eviscerate Laurie Strode, the babysitter that got away. Unfortunately for the near supernatural serial killer, Laurie hasn’t been idly twiddling her thumbs for all these years; she’s been preparing herself and her now three generations deep family for this day and this upcoming fight.

Nearly ten years after the last film to don the name Halloween seemed to all but kill the chances of another, it has taken an unlikely pair to bring Micheal Myers back to the big screen where he belongs. Teaming up with Blumhouse Productions for this new entry in the series, screenwriter Danny McBride and Pineapple Express director David Gordon Green. The pair come out big and bold, not only showing that they have the balls to take on a project of this magnitude, but give us an hour and forty minute, scene by scene showcase on why they are the perfect guys for the job.

Refusing to waste its audience’s time, Halloween gets straight to the point with a trip to the soon-to-be closed down asylum where Aaron Korey and Dana Haines (Jefferson Hall and Rhian Rees), a pair of investigative journalists looking to resurrect the Myers myth try to interview, and subsequently taunt, our antagonist. Not to be discarded as a throw away opening, this scene gives us our first look in 40 years at Nick Castle’s The Shape and instantly shows us the man and his demeanour, without really showing us anything of the actual man as camera angles, fast edits and dirty windows disguise Myers as much as his mask has done in the past. For those thinking that we might get a killer we can sympathise with, a character flawed and needing nothing but a good hug, Halloween reminds you quickly that that isn’t the case. Michael’s first on-screen kill is cold and vicious and serves to show you that this might be the softer, nicer 21st century, but this killer didn’t get your memo. The film takes you to a place that many audiences would have thought off-limits until this point, as writers, producers, and the director flash you their platinum horror membership cards and show you they mean business. He's nasty, he’s brutal, and he’s wholly unforgiving of anyone that gets in his way. Once freed from the shackles that held him, he’s dangerous; once he has his mask back, all bets are off.

It doesn’t happen very often; horror is a genre much forgotten and abused and frequently used for quick cash, but Halloween is a perfect horror experience. Heavy on scares, atmosphere and fun kills; light on plot sag and story slowdown. You can get behind our soon-to-be victims as much as you can get behind the mythical monster chasing them and you can find yourself scared for these people and holding your breath in hope of a safe escape. Green and McBride know they owe everything to the 40 years before this and they show an unending respect for that heritage. They know that there is no 2018 iteration of this legendary series without the films that provided the roadmap to get here. They know this series doesn’t continue without the twists, turns, and frankly ludicrous left field moments in the lore, and whether they and fans want to admit it or not, without Rob Zombie’s much hated vision of The Shape, this film simply can’t exist. These gentlemen know this, and they treat that legacy with the respect it deserves.

There is plenty for newcomers and die hard fans alike: glorious kills, and nostalgic throwbacks that even get an old Halloween cynic like this writer a happy tear and a wry smile.

First Man

We hear the metal of the ship groaning in protest of the immense forces being placed upon it. We see various dials and displays that are shaking so violently they're impossible to read. Over a headset, a voice gives barely audible instructions that the crafts pilot can do nothing about thanks to the intense G-forces that are pinning him to the back of his chair. This flight isn't graceful, or easy: it's a tiny, claustrophobic tin can that is propelling itself through sky not with finesse or grace but through nothing more than a vaguely controlled explosion that has been pointed in roughly the right direction, and the grimace of the astronauts face as he endures the shaking and hopes against hope that everything will turn out OK only worsens as the screaming of the metal gets all the louder and the shaking all the more vicious. And then, as the nose of the craft begins to glow red hot, just as you think this almost comically primitive shuttle hurtling through the air at incredible speeds can't possibly take much more: silence. Stillness. Peaceful serenity as it exits the atmosphere. Floating gently, the shuttle offers its inhabitant a beautiful glimpse of Earth from afar. It's a view that very few people are lucky enough to have seen to this day. The journey was a success - he survives, at least for now.

It's in these moments that First Man is at its very best, managing to imbue the NASA missions that Neil Armstrong and others undertook with an incredible amount of tension despite the fact that we already know what the outcomes are, fully managing to make us understand both how dangerous the early space missions were and how terrifying they must've been for those brave enough to undertake them. Sequences like this punctuate First Man's nearly two and half hour long running time throughout, each one more tense and gripping than the last.

Around those sequences First Man is a different film entirely, either giving us an abridged but still educational overview of how NASA went about putting a man on the moon, or speculating about what might've driven Neil Armstrong to become that man through the lens of his family. Chazelle's decision to shoot the majority of the movie on small, grainy film stock lends First Man a sense of authenticity that is not only heightened by some scenes being shot in a documentary-style way but also helps make the IMAX moon landing finale feel all the more spectacular. There is a sense of quiet confidence and simple, solid filmmaking that really, really works, proving that Chazelle isn't particularly interested in being just one kind of filmmaker, refusing to stay in whatever box his previous films have placed him in.

That isn't to say that First Man is totally different to his earlier work, however. They may be worlds apart in terms of genre or style, but First Man is still very much a story of ambition, the lengths that people might go to and the sacrifices they have to make to achieve their goals, and in that sense it actually feels surprisingly apiece with both Whiplash and La La Land, all three of them adding up to create a far more nuanced look at these topics. Previously, we were left to wonder where Chazelle actually stood on the arguably ambiguous endings of his films - now, I think it's pretty clear that they're all approaching the same ideas from different angles and viewpoints, showing the greatness that can be achieved when people aim for the stars and the way those ambitions can end up driving someone down a bad path. I could be wrong, of course - there's an outside chance that Chazelle sees the story of Neil Armstrong and the story of Whiplash's Andrew Neiman as one and the same - Andrew's victory at the end of Whiplash justifying what he was put through in the same way that Neil Armstrong walking on the moon justified the hardships he and his family went through - but I doubt it.

All that being said, ultimately I'd struggle to argue with anyone who said that First Man isn't quite able meet the standard set by Whiplash and La La Land. Despite all its prestige and a number of fantastic performances (particularly from Claire Foy as Janet Armstrong, who almost single-handedly makes the sections of First Man work on a deeper emotional level), First Man is ultimately a touch too formulaic and not quite attention grabbing enough to leave the same kind of impression that Chazelle's previous films have, regardless of how solid the filmmaking is throughout. What it is, however, is proof, if proof were needed, that Damien Chazelle has a lot more variation in him than Whiplash or La La Land might've suggested - and I can't wait to see where that leads him next.