Halloween ★★★★★

Who gives a shit that it's Halloween--Homecoming is tomorrow. Laurie's just a kid like the others, only just mature enough to realize that she doesn't have any real friends. If another kid hadn't come along to literalize that, Homecoming would have left her with a much more ordinary sort of tragedy. It's sometimes cited that Tommy Doyle resembles the young Michael, but the likeness is incidental. What Carpenter finds interesting--and where he draws the parallel--is how Tommy, a bullied and frightened child, immediately directs the same anger and fear at Lindsey. "He's gonna git-chaaaa!" The sequels and other media would eventually speculate that he grows up to be Michael, or Loomis, but that ignores the implications set up here. Maybe he'll grow up to be Michael, but whatever happens tonight, it seems a lot more likely that he'll grow up to be one of Laurie's loudmouthed and manipulative classmates. Maybe he'll stick around long enough to turn into Sheriff Brackett, sauntering creep that he is.

"No reason, no conscience, no understanding." It's not just the head-tilt. Michael Myers knows that locks keep doors closed and he knows that sharp things hurt and that's about it. The Bob-ghost is about as close as he gets to comprehending that "Bob is dead"--never mind "Bob is dead and I killed him." You can hear him breathing under the sheet, and jeez, it doesn't even occur to him that he's wearing one costume on top of another. He kills Lynda with the phone because it's there in her hand. And then he brings the phone to his ear because that's the way mommy and daddy do it--again, still masked, probably not hearing anything, not getting much out of it even if he can. "The night he came home" is the night that he left. That's obvious, of course, and that's what the tagline is getting at, but how did fifteen years turn into no time at all?

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