#HALLOWEEN: OH, JESUS

I hope you ALL learned something here!

#HALLOWEEN: HALLOWEEN, 1909

HALLOWEEN 3: SEASON OF THE WITCH (1982)

There was once a time – somewhere after Michael Myers returned to the Halloween series with Halloween 4: er…The Return of Michael Myers, when Halloween 3: Season of the Witch was considered the black-sheep odd-ball entry. Once that titular boogeyman Shat his face back on (see what I did there?) for the first time since Halloween 2, Halloween 3 seemed like a strange temporary diversion on what was, at that time, a still-linear and expanding mythos. Yet, now that said series also contains both versions of Halloween 6 (neither of which are good, and both of which are confusing as hell), a proper sequel that saw the return of Laurie Strode and subsequently ignored Halloween 4-6, an entry in which Laurie Strode was unceremoniously killed off as if the character were never more than a trivial footnote, and then Rob Zombie’s very controversial misfiring entries, I think it’s safe to say that Halloween 3 is no longer the odd-ball entry.  And it’s certainly not the turkey that many series fans like to say it is. I admit that I used to think like that: Season of the Witch used to be a punch line. It was derided for chucking out what “worked” – meaning, a slowly over-saturating storyline about Michael Myers that soon achieved the heights of ridiculousness that producers John Carpenter and Debra Hill had feared and tried to avoid. To many people, it became synonymous with the expression “jumping the shark.” 

Halloween 3 was supposed to be the first of a new direction for the Halloween series: standalone entries released yearly or bi-yearly that celebrated and examined the October holiday in some way, none of which would be tied back to previous entries. Kind of a strange move, considering Halloween 2 already existed, and was a direct continuation of the first film – its very existence seemed to laugh in the face of that idea – but when the tiny Compass International Pictures releases your first film, and then suddenly, mega-studio Universal wants to fund the second – ya know, the folks that released Jaws – I could understand caving in on that original intention.

Halloween 3: Season of the Witch features no Michael Myers, no Dr. Loomis, no Laurie Strode. It does feature: Tom Atkins (rocking the mustache this time!), ruminations on old Celtic beliefs/traditions as they pertain to Halloween, an evil corporation, Stonehenge, booby-trapped bug-filled Halloween masks, and, fuck yeah, robots. Here’s the thing, though, and hold onto your butts: While Halloween 3 is nowhere near a better film than the groundbreaking original (ha ha; Lord, no), it does a far better job of incorporating the actual day of Halloween – and all the myths and iconography and history that come with it – directly into its storyline. We’re not just talking about some guy walking around in a mask on the day/night of Halloween and getting away with it because Halloween=masks. We’re talking about a revisitation of old-school Halloween; how it was celebrated and observed in lands foreign from our own; how the very idea of Halloween itself – one whose enduring popularity is credited to legions of children – is both the inspiration behind and the vehicle through which Halloween 3’s antagonist will carry forth his dastardly plan: essentially, to end the world as we know it. If you know the legends and lore of Halloween, you know (or should assume, anyway) that the Halloween of today is a sanitized and watered-down version of what it used to be. It is this embracing of genuine Halloween that makes Season of the Witch an entertaining watch, but it’s not the only aspect worth praising.

Halloween 3 also succeeds and exceeds because of everyone behind the camera. Carpenter’s involvement with this series diminished over time, producing/writing/directing the first film, writing and producing the second, and now only producing the third. This meant someone had to step up and take on the role of writing and directing what would be a radical departure for this newborn series. Things didn’t work out all that well with Rick Rosenthal, who directed Halloween 2, and was a person Carpenter et al. didn’t know personally, so this time the major creative roles were entrusted to Tommy Lee Wallace, who had been part of the filmmakers’ repertoire since nearly the beginning. Though a rearranged version of the original team that struck gold with Halloween, the major players were still there, injecting into the films their own DNA. Carpenter and Hill returned as producers; Dean Cundey as director of photography; Carpenter and Alan Howarth as composers.

Carpenter’s first three films (Assault on Precinct 13, Halloween, and The Fog) had by then established what a "John Carpenter film" was – how it looked, sounded, who appeared on-camera, and the story it was telling. This aesthetic carried over to the subsequent Halloween films where Carpenter opted to take on lesser roles, but still accounts for a large part of their success and their reputations that would slowly grow over time. Much like Halloween 2, Halloween 3 feels like a Carpenter film – from the collection of actors and actresses making return appearances (Tom Atkins, Nancy Loomis, and voice work by Tommy Lee Wallace and Jamie Lee Curtis) to the film’s score (which is probably Carpenter's all-time best next to The Fog), to the added benefit of being grandfathered into a series that Carpenter and co. had created. And this isn’t, in any way, to diminish what writer/director Tommy Lee Wallace (director of Stephen King's IT) brought to the film. He was the man behind the typewriter and behind the camera. His gonzo script (heavily rewriting one by Nigel Kneale) about ritual sacrifice, the apocalypse, a womanizing Tom Atkins, and mothafuckin’ robots works because of how cartoonish and insane the events become. When it gets to the point in the film where Tom Atkins is being strangled by a severed robot hand, or you see that one single pillar from Stonehenge has somehow been uprooted from England, shipped over to the U.S., and planted in the middle of a concrete factory (you DO know how fucking big those stones are, right?) you have to know by then whether you’re on board…or not.

I totally am.

The cast of professionals and not-so-professionals brought it and did what needed to be done. Atkins is Atkins, and we love Atkins. Dan O'Herlihy as the villainous Conal Cochran brings as much gravitas and legitimacy to his role as Donald Pleasence ever did. Cochran's monologue about the real origins of Halloween may not be as chilling and exciting as Dr. Loomis' rant about "the devil's eyes," but O'Herlihy's performance is just as steely-good.

And Stacy Nelkins looks pretty good in a towel. And nighty.

Is Halloween 3 as good a film as Carpenter’s original? We’ve already been over that, and the answer is still no. But is it better than most of the entries to come, up to and including Rob Zombie’s scientific experiments? Absolutely.

Still very much a family affair, Halloween 3: Season of the Witch belongs alongside its previous two entries. Though it ditches everything that came before in favor of something new, it still somehow feels like the proper third part of a Halloween trilogy.

To me, this Michael Myers-lacking, Loomis-less, Carpenter-lite entry will forever be more of a proper sequel than Halloween: Resurrection ever will.

#HALLOWEEN: HADDONFIELD HORROR

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#HALLOWEEN: IT BEGINS

"Autumn.

It's crispness, it's anticipation, it's melancholia, it's cool breezes replacing summer's heat.

It's long days in the field, a harvest festival when work's done, a cheering crowd in a football stadium, chrysanthemums punctuating a somber landscape.

It's Halloween high-jinx, pumpkins grinning toothy smiles, the crack of pecan pressed against pecan.

It's the first curls of woodsmoke, fresh blisters from pushing a rake.

It's crisp and fresh and mellow and snug, solemn and melancholy.

And it's very, very welcome." 

#HALLOWEEN: WELCOME BACK

October is here again. And around these parts, you know what that means: another 31 mini-homages to our favorite night of the year. Stick around with me this month and you'll get a healthy dose of the usual (Unsung Horrors, It Ain't That Bad), the not-so-usuals, a lovely contest to win some free booze (courtesy of the fine folks at PumpkinFace Rum), and lots more.

Also new to this year will be a somewhat more sentimental tone. Without realizing it, I patterned many posts around not just Halloween, but the fondness I have for it, and the nostalgia I can't help but associate with it. Things might come off a bit mushier than normal. You've been warned.

Welcome back, Happy Halloween, and enjoy.

 

Halloween from Musing Pictures on Vimeo.

FOREIGN CONCEPT

Yeah...I'd see this version of Halloween: H20, starring demon possession and Tommy Lee Jones. And that tagline is kind of amazing.

YIKES

JOSHUA WARD HOUSE

The Joshua Ward House is one of the most haunted houses in America. Most believe the house is haunted by George Corwin, the High Sheriff, a man responsible for executing many “witches” during the infamous Salem Witch Trials.

This photo was taken by a real estate agent with a Polaroid camera during a tour of the house. Many believe that this may be one of the many souls condemned to death on the grounds where Joshua Ward House now stands.

MYERSES

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Duty!

GREEN BOOTS

The body of David Sharp still sits in a cave, known as "Green Boots Cave," at the top of Mount Everest. David attempted the climb in 2005, and near the top, stopped in this cave to rest. His body eventually froze in place, rendering him unable to move. Over 30 climbers passed by him as he sat freezing to death. Some heard faint moans and realized he was still alive. They stopped and spoke with him. He was able to identify himself, but was unable to move. Brave climbers moved him into the sun in an attempt to thaw him, but eventually, realizing David would be unable to move, were forced to leave him to die. His body still sits in the cave and is used as a guide point for other climbers nearing the summit.

GIRL IN BLUE

In 1933, a girl dressed all in blue came to Willoughby, Ohio on a Greyhound bus. She stayed the night in a boarding house before spending the next day greeting everyone with heartfelt warmth. At the end of the day, she saw the train to New York approach, dropped her cases, sprinted for the track, was hit by the train and died of her injuries. No one knew her name for 60 years, yet 3,000 people attended her funeral. And no one will ever know if it was an accident or suicide.

RESPECT

OH, HELLO AGAIN, FALL

Where ya been all summer?

THE FOOTREST

Recent reminiscing with a friend of mine reminded us both of this very random and creepy occurrence that took place about five years ago or so at a movie theater somewhat local to us both, and where he used to work. This is going to sound like 100% bullshit, and I know everyone who's about to tell some kind of creepy tale always preempts with that disclaimer, but you should know that this really did happen. It's too bizarre to have made up. 

In the midst of this particular movie theater being bought out by yet another, larger movie theater company (which seemed to happen every 2-3 years), small signs began appearing on certain seats in one particular theater auditorium. This sign read something to the effect of:

"Part of our renovation process includes the installation of automatic footrests, which will engage once the lights dim and your feature begins."

During this time, customers began to experience the automatic footrests for themselves.

And then the feedback began.

The first feedback was quite negative, and for good reason. (More on that later.) Simply put: the footrests were not as advertised. Management did not take her concerns very seriously, assuming she was complaining just to get some free tickets.

A couple weeks later, the theater had their second customer feedback: the customer simply remarked that they liked the new automated footrests, had used them for the duration of the film, and had nothing more to add.

By this point, theater employees were mystified. You see, there were no automatic footrests installed anywhere in that theater.

One day, my buddy, who was a manager at the time, was asked to see about a situation that occurred within one of the auditoriums, and to assist the security staff as needed. Upon getting there, outside the auditorium in the hallway, he saw a frazzled girl, her angry boyfriend, and a strange looking man sitting on a bench in handcuffs, looking ashamed and terrified.

Clearly, something bad had gone down between all of them.

That strange looking man, it turns out, was the automatic footrest. He would place the sign on the seat where the "footrest" would engage, slide beneath the seat on his back once the lights went low, grab the person's feet with his hands, and stare up at them from the floor while holding the person's feet up above him.

Turns out: the first "customer feedback" had not only been quite negative, but flat-out described the situation for what it was: there was someone in an auditorium sneaking under seats and holding people's feet. She'd described the grabber's face as "ghostly white." The fact that staff did not find the "sign" she'd reported to be hung on the seat reinforced management's stance that she was pulling a scam. They even did a round of myth-busting and tried sliding on their backs under the seat to see if anyone could even fit.

No one could.

Following the second feedback about automated footrests, the light bulb went off and employees went to the auditorium and saw that the sign was still hanging on the seat.

On the day of the third and final reported instance, the grabber had finally been caught. The boyfriend had seen the man take his place below his girlfriend's seat and ripped him out from under it, understandably ready to beat the ever-loving stuff out of him until others had broken up the fight. At that point, security and management had intervened.

This strange man – described as little and pale – had been doing this for months before he was finally caught. In at least one confirmed instance, he'd held a person's feet for the duration of an entire film, and that person never knew. Makes you wonder how many people he'd actually done it to, but who never bothered to provide feedback for these "automated footrests."

See you at the movies.

SUN-DRIED

Finnish soldiers displaying the skins of Soviet soldiers near Maaselkä, on the strand of lake Seesjärvi during Continuation War on the 15th of December in 1942. Original caption: “An enemy recon patrol that was cut out of food supplies had butchered a few members of their own patrol group, and had eaten most of them.”

MADNESS

 

Your guess is as good as mine...

SEAT'S TAKEN

In 1702, a convicted murderer named Thomas Busby was about to be hanged for his crimes. His last request was to have his final meal served at his favorite pub in Thirsk, England. He finished his meal, stood up, and said, “May sudden death come to anyone who dare sit in my chair.”

The chair remained in the pub for centuries, and patrons would often dare one another to sit in the cursed seat. During World War II, airmen from a nearby base frequented the pub, and locals noticed that the soldiers who sat in the chair would never return from war.

In 1967, two Royal Air Force pilots sat in the chair, only to crash their truck into a tree just after they left. In 1970, a mason tested his fate in the hot seat, only to die that same afternoon by falling into a hole at his job site. A year after that, a roofer who sat in it died after the roof he was working on collapsed. When the pub’s cleaning lady tripped and fell into the chair, she died shortly afterwards from a brain tumor.

This list goes on, and finally the pub owner moved the chair into the basement. Unfortunately, even in storage the chair claimed another victim. After a delivery man took a quick rest while unloading packages in the store room, he was killed in a car accident that same day.

Eventually, the pub owner donated the chair to the local museum in 1972. The museum displays the chair by hanging it five feet in the air so that no one can possibly sit in it by mistake again. Fortunately, no one has sat in the chair since.