Rating:

My compatriot here at Melted Reel reminded me recently that, as a writer, you must learn to “kill your darlings.”

Meaning, there are aspects of a creation which you love the most, and which you have undoubtedly spent the most time and effort on — and you must sacrifice some of their individual luster in order to benefit the whole. The time you’ve spent on them likely means that they’re overwrought and distracting.

The very same advice could have (and should have) been given to Rob Zombie, the writer/director of this year’s remake of “Halloween.”

The first act of this updated classic is clearly where Zombie saw the opportunity to leave his unique imprint on a classic story. And imprint it, he certainly does. The problem is, the rest of the film is such a well done and dedicated homage to the original, the unique flavor of the inserted back story is nothing more than a distraction, detracting from the film as a whole.

I’m not comparing the film to the original by any means, but Zombie certainly did. This is the problem. The bulk of the film is close in style and content to the simplicity of the small-town story the original displayed. This makes the first act ring false and awkward by comparison.

In the beginning of the film, we learn about the boy who will eventually become the savage and mindless killing machine known as Michael Myers. We see the story of a simple child from a broken home, abused and ignored, with a penchant for killing small animals.

All the hallmarks of a Rob Zombie film are present in young Michael’s life: Overbearing female characters and their verbose, deadbeat love interests; sloppy southern bells in halter tops and boy shorts; confused young men with long hair and rock and roll t-shirts — all savagely entertaining in their hostility, with an irresistible southern twang and diction.

Zombie has made a career out of doing for southern folk what the Coen brothers did for North Dakotans in Fargo. It’s hard to say no to. I doubt many people enjoy any film as much as I do Zombie’s The Devil’s Rejects.

But for the story of Michael Myers, it’s too much, and it steals the spotlight from the killer himself.

What’s more, the bloated childhood section forces the film to spend less time in modern day Haddonfield, after Myers has escaped his mental institution. And this is where the story really happens.

The Rob Zombie fingerprint fades, and we see small town America, with cute girls and their horny boyfriends; chatty, curious children and their loving parents. It’s worth applauding how much we get to know each character, even though they have only one third of a film to be seen in. The first third is for Michael’s childhood, the final third is for death.

That said, we’re not as familiar with the three girls as we’d like. As a result, their deaths are routine and predictable, even as Zombie works to find new ways to scare us.

Some aspects are extremely satisfying in their creepiness. Rob Zombie’s Myers has a thorough fixation with masks, and it works to frighten us in a simple kind of way.

I’m also proud of the way the film imagines the hulking Myers as more devastatingly brutal than anything else, but I’m sad to say that this brutality is not scary. At times, the death scenes are effectively graphic—such as when Myers savagely bludgeons a hapless truck driver, destroying an entire restroom stall as if it were cardboard—but they don’t frighten you.

The climactic battle between the legendary Laurie Strode and Myers is similar. Zombie recreates the classic “bursting through the closet door” scene, but extrapolates it infinitely. The young Laurie hides literally *between* the walls of the house, as Myers relentlessly rips them to shreds. This scene alone is worth the price of admission, diminished as it is by the fact that it’s in the midst of about six consecutive Laurie-runs, Michael-catches showdowns.

The characters are one-dimensional, and the actors fit the bill. Malcom McDowell as Dr. Loomis is shallow, but sill manages to capture the obsessive nature Donald Pleasance once brought to the role. Scout Taylor-Compton, try as she might, is more cute than nerdy as Laurie–but we like her anyway.

The most pleasant surprise was seeing Danielle Harris as Annie Brackett, the mischievous sheriff’s daughter. As a child, Harris played Laurie Strode’s daughter in Halloween 4, and she did well as Annie, even though all that was really necessary was for her to look the part. Still, this was no easy task, as Harris is 30, and Annie is supposed to be 17. Trust me, it works.

Motivation became the Achilles Heel of this film. In the post modern era, we must apparently introduce psychology into everything our characters do. And psychology encourages us to humanize everyone. Cause and effect is no longer enough. Now, we must learn the root cause and effect. And for the most part, I agree. Perhaps there was no better way to tell the story of Idi Amin in The Last King of Scotland than to humanize him, and suggest how such a man existed.

The same is not true, however, of many a great horror film. What makes the story of some of our most notorious fictional killers scary is that they weren’t forced to be that way. Some, like Hannibal Lecter, choose to be who they are. Others, like Freddy Kruger, enjoy it.

Michael Myers, in the 1978 film, was a normal child with a seemingly idyllic life, whose brain simply and suddenly stopped working as yours and mine does. This is the chief reason he was so scary—not because his life mirrored that of Jeffrey Dahmer, which it does with Zombie’s input.

And speaking of motivation, God only knows why Rob Zombie was so gung-ho about remaking this classic story, which was possibly the horror film least in need of a modern take. Already, the critical and fan reactions have been that of endlessly comparing it to the original, whether one liked it or not.

He created a fine film, with a climax worthy of having a story to surround it—but it would’ve worked better, much better, if it were a story of its own.

If You Hated This, You Will Also Totally Hate:

• Halloween: Resurrection
• Halloween in September
• Poltergeist
• The Year Without a Santa Claus
• Transformers 2 Has at Least Two Robot Balls