Film review: Halloween 4: The Return of Michael Myers (1988)

MyersHalloween 4: The Return of Michael Myers (1988)

[From Critical Wave #17, 1990. Copies of Platform Entertainment’s 2010 DVD release are currently available via Amazon, as is the 2012 Blu-ray edition.]

 

There are essentially two schools of thought when it comes to horror movies. The first, typified by John Buechler and Clive Barker, holds to the theory that emotional response is directly linked to visual bombardment: the gorier the image, the greater the impact. The other, which informed Robert Wise’s superlative 1963 screen adaptation of Shirley Jackson’s The Haunting of Hill House, opts instead for intensity and suggestion rather than graphic anatomy lessons, shadows rather than splatterfests.

Regrettably, the latter school has had few graduates in the past decade, the box office success of Freddy Krueger and his rivals too much of a temptation for young film-makers eager to make their mark and all too ready to jump aboard the bloody bandwagon if it seems to be heading in the right direction. That’s not to say I’m not in favour of a little gore once in a while, just that by the time you’ve seen your tenth eye-gouging or your fortieth disemboweling, the entire affair loses its initial shock value, much as a stag night comedian who peppers his routing with “fucks” soon becomes merely tiresome.

So I suppose I should send a note of thanks to Dwight H Little, director of Halloween 4: The Return of Michael Myers, for not only creating (with screenwriter Alan B McElroy) a movie with sequences of real tension, but denting the view that horror sequels are by their very nature a worthless exercise in audience exploitation. The third chapter in the Myers saga (Halloween 3: Season of the Witch having no connection to its predecessors, you will recall) opens a decade after John Carpenter’s original, Jamie Lee Curtis’ character having survived her murderous brother only to die in a traffic accident, the focus shifting to her young daughter, now fostered by one of Curtis’ babysitting clients. Uncle Michael is safely locked up, of course, but (surprise, surprise) escapes to wreak havoc in tranquil Haddonfield yet again.

Several questions arise at this point, such as “How come psychopaths are always relocated in pitch darkness?” and “Why don’t people simply leave town for the Halloween weekend?”, but expecting a sensible answer is as pointless as wondering how Myers and monomaniacal psychiatrist Donald Pleasance survived the fiery finale of the second movie. You simply have to suspend disbelief, set your brain in neutral and go with the flow; gore fans may be disappointed by the conspicuous lack of on-screen carnage (folks get offed, sure, but with a refreshingly economical style), but I actually jolted at one point towards the close, which is quite a change from the usual predictable yawnfest. And make certain you catch the final few minutes, for one of the neatest twist endings in many a moon.

Book review: Horror: 100 Best Books, ed. Stephen Jones & Kim Newman

Horror100 2Horror: 100 Best Books, edited by Stephen Jones & Kim Newman

[From Critical Wave #27, 1992. Released in hardback by Xanadu and subsequently revised for a mass-market paperback from New English Library, Horror; 100 Best Books was further updated for Carroll & Graf’s 1998 edition, with a second volume following in 2005. The third version is currently available via Amazon.]

 

Originally published by Xanadu in 1988, this “revised and updated” edition features the same collection of critical essays by leading genre figures (Clive Barker on Christopher Marlowe’s Doctor Faustus, Steve Rasnic Tem on Franz Kafka’s The Trial, Lisa Tuttle on Shirley Jackson’s The Haunting of Hill House), although the contributors’ biographies have been re-written and in themselves provide a useful reference tool.

By placing the critiques in chronological order, Jones and Newman have laid the groundwork for an historical retrospective charting the development of horror and dark fantasy over the past four centuries, even if such an overview is absent here. It’s a pity, however, that room could not be found for post-1987 works, especially as the “recommended reading” appendix highlights such important releases as Brian Stableford’s The Empire of Fear, Bret Easton Ellis’ American Psycho and Thomas M Disch’s The M.D.: A Horror Story.