A review of Halloween classics, ranked from most to least scary
Halloween – 1978 (dir. John Carpenter)
If you want to make the scariest night of the year even scarier, look no further than John Carpenter’s definitive slasher.
Both technically and narratively, Halloween revolutionized horror. The chilling opening sequence, where young Michael Myers commits his first murder, introduced the killer POV shot which has been copied time after time. Carpenter also introduced the “final girl” trope which, while criticized by some, has generated vibrant discourse on gender and subversion within the slasher genre.
Halloween also provides subtle commentary on the late sexual revolution. Towards the end of the 70s, it was every suburban parent’s nightmare that an unstoppable, faceless man would invade their daughter’s bedroom. Carpenter distilled the latent fears of a generation of conservative parents into the iconic form it is today, and broadcasted those fears to a teenage audience that snuck into R-rated movies.
Scream – 1996 (dir. Wes Craven)
Still the highest-grossing slasher film of all time, Scream is a maniacally violent and riotously funny horror oddity.
Scream delivers meta-humor without sacrificing the raw thrills of the genre it satirizes, featuring an iconic villain and a wickedly humorous final twist, along with a fantastic soundtrack. Scream had its finger on the pulse of 1990s horror, as shown by the 90s revitalization of the slasher film.
While, in my humble opinion, Scream 2 is the best installation of the series, Scream has a special place in my heart. With Scream, Wes Craven reminded audiences and critics that the slasher genre was not bereft of insight or intelligence.
Frankenstein – 1931 (dir. James Whale)
I cried the first time I saw Frankenstein. No, I was not a terrified toddler. This was last year. Frankenstein moved me.
In his adaptation of Mary Shelley’s classic examination of the mystery of life, death, and the ethical limits of science, James Whale introduced the world to “The Monster.” A creature born only to be rebuked by the society that created him, the Monster fears and simultaneously longs for the human touch.
The existential frustration and despair of Whale’s vision finds its clearest expression in the primitive rage of a being trapped in a constant state of pain and loneliness and lacking the ability to express itself.
Frankenstein teaches us that we should look at the Monster rather than shield our eyes. Perhaps, when looking at the Monster, we will see ourselves.
It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown – 1966 (dir. Bill Melendez)
Charles Schulz’ 1966 Halloween special, while heartwarming and family friendly, has some decidedly nihilistic overtones. Let’s take a look at the plot, shall we?
Linus insists and truly believes that the Great Pumpkin will bring him presents on Halloween. Every Halloween, Linus sits in a pumpkin patch waiting for the Great Pumpkin to arrive, believing seeing the Great Pumpkin will be worth missing the Halloween party with the rest of the gang. Linus even recruits Sally to skip trick-or-treating and become a follower of the Great Pumpkin with him, assuring her that the Great Pumpkin will bestow his grace upon her as well.
Fast forward to the end of the night—the Great Pumpkin never comes. Linus is stuck out in a pumpkin patch on a cold night, while the rest of the gang is out at the Halloween party. Sally abandons Linus, furious that he made her miss the Halloween festivities.
When Charlie Brown later attempts to console Linus by explaining that he has done many stupid things too, Linus snaps. He adamantly professes his faith in the Great Pumpkin, and that the Great Pumpkin will come next year—just you wait, Charlie Brown.
I’m not sure if I’m reading too deep into this one, but I’ve always seen The Great Pumpkin as a critical allegory for and denunciation of religious faith.
While it might seem mean-spirited to laugh at childlike faith unfulfilled, it’s worth remembering that Peanuts is basically a chronicle of Charlie Brown getting screwed over by fate. So, if you can laugh good-naturedly at poor old Charlie Brown missing the football, then don’t feel bad for laughing at Linus for being a true believer.
