I saw The Exorcist: Believer

The Exorcist franchise is a long and varied one, with the subtitled Believer now possessing theaters. The movie, produced/released through Blumhouse and Universal, is directed by David Gordon Green, who cowrote with Peter Sattler, David McBride and Scott Teems. (As fans know, Green and his deft disciples orchestrated the acclaimed, Halloween sequel-trilogy.)

In some ways, this sequel (like the underrated, Fox, two-season series) is much more in tune with William Peter Blatty/William Friedkin's 1973 fright fest than other chapters (or their many knockoffs), delivering a clear-cut, devilish, double whammy, with two girls falling under a demon's puppetizing command. 

The Regan MacNeil surrogates are schoolmates named Katherine and Angela, portrayed by Olivia Marcum and Lidya Jewett, who become "infected" after traveling into the woods one afternoon, only to reappear three, Jesus-days later (a Travis Walton abduction, one might argue, though seeping from the netherworld). Neither girl deserves the conjoined possession, of course, and their unholy disease (as was the case with Linda Blair's legendary victim) builds with subtlety, marked by the anticipated, telltale tropes. 

The liturgical ascent succeeds, not merely because of Green's proficient pacing, but because of the quality of its characters. Those who leap in to combat the ethereal manipulator (maybe, just maybe, Pazuzu) are of diverse faith (with Catholicism no longer the sole weapon), all joined for a communal, eradicating cause. (For the record, a similar element occurs in Halloween Ends.)

In addition to Marcum and Jewett, there's Leslie Odom Jr. as Victor Fielding, a compassionate, intervening father (and the movie's adult lead); Tracy Graves as his voodoo-anointed wife, Sorenne; Jennifer Neetles as Miranda Marcum; Norbert Leo Butz as her husband, Tony; Okwui Okpokwsili as ritualist Dr. Beehibe; E.J. Bonilla as Father Maddox; Ann Dowd as Nurse Ann (an almost-nun); Raphael Sbarge as Baptist Pastor Don Revans; Danny McCarthy as Pentecostal Pastor Stuart; and in a much appreciated return, Ellen Burstyn as Chris MacNeil (who contrary to what some spout, holds a substantial, supporting role.) 

Those who don the Van Helsing gloves for this big, demonic brawl are, in truth, performing as therapists, pulled into the maelstrom through sheer chance and then maddening desperation; but fear not! Though they may slip during their bout (and casualties occur, both in mind and body), they tap their convictions to strike back, no matter how many ploys their adversary. swings. It's all a matter of faith ... inner, personal faith, which is all one has after the religious garnishing is stripped. 

Unlike this year's The Pope's Exorcist, which uses its possessed child to reveal a startling secret, Believer, like the Blatty/Friedkin classic, acts as an allegory for child abuse, as well as its remedial, committed purgation. The alluded concerns and related attempts, as featured in both submissions, should resonate in the grimy present where pedophilia is often greeted by a blind eye or blanketed by ludicrous terms that allow fiends to revel in their deeds. Indeed, at face value, the original novel/movie and this particular sequel aren't overt denouncements of such behavior (the Elm Street chapters are more apparent in this respect, if only for their repeated, teen violations), but Believer's carnal insinuation is impossible to overlook or dismiss. 

With that said, Believer reminds its audience that there truly are demons in the world, whether of the spirit or the flesh. The battle waged against either audacious opposition characterizes the movie to a purposeful point, even if the content is concealed by profuse, philosophical discussions, practical effects, jolting scares and Mike Oldfield's pervading "Tubular Bells", as enclosed within David Wingo and Ammon Abbasi's intense score. The movie's not-so-secret intent (even if superfluous in the eyes of some) resonates beyond its familiarity, and on that platform is akin to a luminary seminar. Any such high-minded lesson is worth pursuing for those interested in the human condition, both the good and bad of it.  

I saw Halloween Ends...

The final chapter in a parallel-universe trio of Halloween movies has fallen upon us, as grim and demented as its prior parts, and now with a philosophical twist. 

Director David Gordon Green, who coscripted with Danny McBride, Chris Bernier and Paul Brad Logan, resumes John Carpenter/Debra Hill's timeworn battle between Jamie Lee Curtis' Laurie Strode and Nick Castle/James Jude Courtney's Michael Myers, who are no longer cursed-bound siblings in this alternate scheme of things, thus proposing the question, What's the Shape's motivation, anyway? Then again, when it comes to evil, motivation isn't required. 

Halloween Ends dictates that evil extends and never dies. It's harbored within any number of shapes (get it?), spreading even unto those who proclaim to be virtuous. The most that anyone can do is place evil to the side, pretend it's shackled, but prepare for that inevitable moment when it returns.  

That's what Strode does, putting her past behind her within a cloak of domestic life, and the same can be said of Will Patton's Deputy Frank Hawkins, a good man who yearns for a placid existence, in light of the carnage he's witnessed.  

The same yearning impacts a new character, Rohan (The Hardy Boys) Campbell's Corey Cunningham, a young man scarred for a death he didn't cause, who finds solace in another scarred character, Andi Matichak's Allyson Nelson, Strode's gone-through-hell granddaughter. Dear Allyson seeks redemption through Cunningham, though it could also be the lad's comparable darkness that attracts her. 

Within their turmoil, these principals graze melodramatic components from Breathless, The Loveless and Rebel Without A Cause, as well as such King-sized fables as Carrie, The Shining and Christine, for in these poor souls' wretched paths, Myers waits, prepared to spread his infection, and once it spreads, there seems no stopping it. 

Maybe it shouldn't be stopped, but rather reciprocated. Though turning the cheek and acts of forgiveness have their place, in the (pun intended) end, only fire can fight fire. This ardent adage is perfect for promoting Myers' merciless legacy, and Green's pounding direction flaunts it for all the shameless brilliance it's worth. 

So, does the Boogeyman get what he deserves in the allegorical end? Well, that's for me to know, and you to find out. However, this chapter ensures that at least in spirit, the Boogeyman is eternal. As insinuated, he lives in our Hyde-ish hearts and can surface at any time and within the mere blink of an eye. 

Because of its allegorical thrust, I considered Ends one of the franchise's best. Inside its unpretentious, final-throes genius, you may just find a new way of looking at the world: from a lens, that is, callous and cynical, but all the more practical for it. 

I saw Halloween Kills...

The sequel to the recent, parallel Halloween 2, aka Halloween '18, is entitled Halloween Kills, the second chapter in a developing slasher trilogy. Thanks to accursed COVID, this follow-up was delayed by a year, which isn't as disagreeable as what other flicks have endured, like No Time to Die and Black Widow, but still anticipation has been shooting through the roof due to the restraint. 

Halloween Kills is directed by the prior film's David Gordon Green, who co-scripted with Danny McBride and Scott Teems, and is as violent as word of mouth proclaims. It holds a raw-edged, '78 epilogue that explains how Michael Myers was caught way-back-when, and when it resumes in the "present", it continues to be absent of any goofy nonsense to slow it down under the pretense that such padding builds suspense. This Myers chapter is a nonstop monster-on-the-loose love affair (even when he's not on screen), where even obligatory interludes tingle with reflective chill.

The film ultimately picks up where Halloween '18 left off, with Myers (James Jude Courtney) flanked by flames in Laurie Strode (Jamie Lee Curtis)'s house, but of course, the damn Shape doesn't perish. An unknowing fireman lends the escaped madman a hand, and Myers' trail of carnage marches on as Deputy Hawkins (Will Patton), Sheriff Barker (Omar Dorsey), former Sheriff Brackett (Charles Cyphers) and Strode's old, babysitting pals, Tommy Doyle (now played by Anthony Michael Hall) and Lindsey Wallace (Kyle Nichols of John Carpenter/Debra Hill's original and looking quite Demi Moore-esque) help Strode swallow the unabated maelstrom. 

For those who suspect this one will buck tradition, fret not. The story's structure features mounds of barometric heritage, with the Haddonfield Memorial Hospital once more flavoring the autumnal bracketing. However, the formula takes an initiating but satisfying turn when Strode and friends form a vigilante group to snuff Myers' resumed reign of terror. The anxiety and fear among the ensemble ride the crest of Rod Serling's "Monsters are Due on Maple Street" and to some degree George Romero/John Russo's Night of the Living Dead, exposing a divergence of select quirks to deter the menace, but it never goes much beyond that appreciated but curtailed mob mentality: a bummer, since a broadened, communal case may have placed Halloween Kills on a behavioral platform. 

On the other hand, more than enough contentious tension rises from Laurie's daughter, Karen (Judy Greer) and granddaughter, Allyson (Andi Madichak) to keep viewers ensnared. And yes, the former plays an important part in the publicized-to-a-fault, unfocused unmasking of the senior Myers. (Though let's face it folks, this isn't the first time Myers has lost his refurbished Kirk guise to tease his adult features, if one recalls Halloween '78's television cut. Also his appearances as a child, in the latter movie and Rob Zombie's remake/quasi-prequel make it reasonable to extrapolate.)

Even with the drum-rolling unveiling, Myers stands propelled and dogged throughout this implacable chapter. Some have compared his new, hellbent behavior to that of Leatherface and/or Jason Voorhees, since he skirts the shadows to slash right out in the audacious open, taking the statutory, is-he-dead-yet bow every now and then. (Pardon the tangent, but I've long discerned a significant sum of Yul Brynner's Westworld Gunslinger in Myers, in the way the Shape keeps springing up after being knocked down, and I dare say, Myers and the Gunslinger are explicit precursors to the Terminator 800's resiliency, but that's a comparative discussion for another time down the super-stalker line.) 

On the evident, allegorical side, Halloween Kills makes Myers a symbolic force of reckoning, who adheres to Nietchze's "That which does not kill us makes us stronger", and the more he kills, the more impregnable he grows (and in so doing, spares no one, including the elderly and {pre}adolescent kids). But as with any irrevocable force in life, one can't just sit back and let one's aggressor have his way. One must conjure the courage to strike back, no matter the boogeyman involved. Halloween Kills is this premise's apex exemplar. 

Strap on a pair of it's-fun-to-be-scared balls and give this seasonal offering a stab. It ought to keep one restlessly content until Halloween Ends gains its revenge this time next year. 

An Alternate Reality: I saw Halloween (2018)...

Sooner or later, Michael Myers, aka the Shape, would return. It was merely a matter of how and in what context. 

The new "Halloween" (endorsed per reassuring publicity by the original's co-creator John Carpenter) is directed by David Gordon Green ... scripted by Green, Jeff Fradley, and Danny "Alien: Covenant" McBride. They make the '78 movie its foundation, establishing (through an instructive, character exchange) that the classic's offshoots and retelling are no more than urban legend. This bold tactic twists "Halloween '18" into a full-fledged, alternate-reality, sidesteppin' sequel. 

Horror fans have encountered this stunt before. "Jaws: the Revenge" is a parallel "Jaws 2", and "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre" franchise hit the restart button more than once.

In "Halloween '18", the story picks up forty years after the night that Myers (played by James Jude Courtney, with a little, suggestive help from the original Shape, Nick Castle) attempted to kill Jamie Lee Curtis' Laurie Strode. In this alternate chapter, we learn that Strode has long awaited the day, or more precisely the night, that Myers would return to Haddonfield, IL, and in rifle-pumped, Sarah Connor fashion is prepared to bring him down. 

One might argue that the novelty here is Curtis' re-entry into the series, but "H20" and "Halloween: Resurrection" promoted her presence as much, if not more so. Been there, done that.

Similarly, though Donald Pleasence's Sam Loomis is no longer available to chase Myers, he's been replaced by a twinkling-eyed counterpart, Ranbir Sartain, played by Haluk Bilginer, and to share Loomis' legacy of intensity, there are crime investigators Aaron Korey, played by Jefferson Hall, and Dana Holmes, played by Rhian Rees. These passionate intellects dare to probe, ruminate and debate what makes our Kirk-masked madman tick (something that Loomis' peers were more inclined to do), but that won't snuff Myers' urge to escape: a more than reasonable, plot retread and still, nothing new. 

As with prior films, we're given a helpful, been-there-done-that policeman, Frank Hawkins (Will Patton). Strode again has family referenced: her daughter (Judy Greer), son-in-law (Toby Huss) and granddaughter (Andi Matichak). It feels right that the ensemble reflects past participants, except that in this version, Myers isn't Strode's brother. Nevertheless, in determined, brotherly fashion, he slashes his way to get to her ... again, again and again.

With these generous overlaps, what does distinguish "Halloween '18", beyond being a third "II"? Well, it really comes down to the approach.

"Halloween '18" isn't hindered by non-stop, horny teens (though there's a confined brush of such) or garrulous interludes: Let's face it, kids today generally make love to their phones, not each other, and as for those beat-it-into-the ground, waste-of-time misleads ... please! "Halloween '18" is tight and blunt, with the cat-and-mouse battle between seniors taking center stage. 

Michael Simmonds' photography works to the scenario's advantage: ominous and in an ironic way, consoling, invoking Carpenter's first and Rob Zombie's remake/sequel. Variations of Carpenter's famous music triggers the suspense. The scares are as calculated, if not sometimes obvious, but what the hell? Slasher fans know the routine and wouldn't have it any other way.

Like previous "Halloweens", this one is conclusive and yet implies a continuation. (Call me crazy, but I desire something that ties Conal Cochran's Silver Shamrock masks to Myer's.) Don't expect an Oscar out of this (though in truth, "Halloween '18" is superior to most Academy darlings, including the cliched "The Shape of Water"). This chapter is best taken as a sentimental reunion, warmed with vengeful violence.  

Myers and Strode are pop-cultural staples. They should never fade away. They never can. Even if this one doesn't end up your favorite sequel (though don't be surprised if it does), you'll still find your autumnal time well spent.