Edgar Cochran’s review published on Letterboxd:
Extraordinary slasher classic that borrowed the suspense from Psycho (1960) and the brutality from Black Christmas (1974), triggering the match of a long-running series of useless and unstoppable sequels.
The 70s had something going on. It's indescribable. It's the cheap image, or perhaps the unrepeatable sounds used in the background music, the suspense, the absolute absence of blood (or the complete dependence of bloody killings and beautiful, red Italian gore), but Carpenter was basically the only filmmaker that "got" it and applied it to this masterpiece. From the orgasmic tracking shot in the opening to the use of cinematography in the last seconds, a horror icon is born from its very origins of hell. Last November I couldn't stop clapping, and surely I'll clap every year.