Hearing those insidious chords in the cinema will stay with me forever. As will the film itself.

Rating: 10/10 (3 November 2014)

Where do I begin? Well, there is absolutely no need to introduce the premise or detail the narrative in any way as I am sure this film, as influential and timeless as it is, has been thoroughly ingrained in the consciousness of every man woman and child, through one of the single biggest acts of horror-culture osmosis. Perhaps that's a little overblown, but if you haven't seen the film yet you have somehow trawled through unimaginable depths to read this review, then stop here, and watch the film with haste, you oblivious little thing. Like Freddy and Jason, Michael Myers is one of the eminent figures of horror, and like the other two, he sports iconic clothes and relies on simple acts to scare us witless. He stalks silently, determinedly, he lets his hulking frame stand seemingly indomitable in the sight of his soon-to-be-victims and the audience, yet he disappears and re-appears so ethereally that we are left terrified. Myers is a perfect composition of an intimidating human physicality and a menacing supernaturalism, chillingly demonstrated in the final moments of the film.
I was fortunate enough to see this in the cinema on Halloween night, as part of a one-off screening, and of course it was nothing short of marvellous. The film supposedly had some sort of 'digital restoration' but none of that modern-technological-intervening-crap harmed the film, or seemed to have any effect whatsoever. The grain was intact, and the film still had the generally warm and the rich pallet that is exclusive to shooting on film. That said, the film's look, especially in the outdoor scenes, is distinctly cold and greyish and that wasn't eliminated here, perfectly in keeping with the isolation and seclusion that Laurie and the audiences are subjected to. It looked stunning, sounded stunning, with an occasional vinyl-like crackle quality to it that made it all the more authentic. Seeing all the events unfold on the big screen is nothing short of spectacular; it completes the experience. There was a couple sitting in front of me that was giggling, but the dread of the film is so palpable that they were easily ignored. B*****ds.
The opening, in which we are forced into the POV of a young Michael Myers, is a master-class unease and discomfort. It is one long, brooding take, in which the malicious child slowly approaches his house and orchestrates his ritual with such calm; peering in windows and lurking in the shadows of staircases carrying us every step of the way. We are the unwilling participant. Even in the act of killing his sister we are not allowed to leave his eyes. I love how the stabbing is shown in this scene, which recalled the infamous shower moment in Psycho. We don't see any penetration, which would be completely unnecessary, but we hear the impact of the knife, and we see the brutally methodical motion of it as it swings back and forth. It's mechanical and has enough consequence to be horrifying but never graphic enough to be tasteless. None of this encourages identifying with the killer because we don't know anything about him, and the reveal that what we just witnessed was through the eyes of a 6 year old boy is brilliantly disgusting and confounding, because we are forced to acknowledge that the innocent exterior of the child evokes some humanity, yet completely disagrees with his previous actions.
There is a voyeurism that continues throughout the film in which we watch with Michael Myers the people he stalks. His body is never entirely in view, yet we are not completely disconnected from him and it all the more uncomfortable. There is a moment when the camera sits in the passenger seat alongside him, and we don't feel like an accomplice but a victim of kidnap; the brief glimpses of his haunting white mask and frenzied hair separate us even more. Later in the film, when Laurie is being attacked in the closet, we are thrust into the situation and the camera remains on the floor beside her. This involvement is brilliant because in a way we are fearing just as much as for Laurie as we are ourselves, and we can't help but think how we would react in that situation. Of course, we can't know how we would respond, and in the height of such fear and irrational actions are perfectly acceptable. Criticisms of Laurie's response are invalid because they fail to take into account vital elements such as the extreme weight of Laurie's fear, the fact of her injuries, that she had a responsibility not only to her own wellbeing but the children she was looking after, the fact that Michael Myers is a completely relentless unnatural being and that she is a fictional character and not us. The shot of Myers in the background in which he is lying down listlessly, hopefully dead, and then raises himself so mechanically upright is one of the most chilling and malevolent moments in cinema.
Of course, Donald Pleasance hasn't been mentioned, but his gravitas and the emotional weight he conveys goes without saying. He is given some of the (for lack of a better word) cheesiest lines in the film, but in context, and when uttered by him, they work without fail. They are haunting because Pleasance is haunted, and because he believes them, so do we.
The film plays beautifully with the power of suggestion, and what we don't see, or what we barely see. There is no indulgence in gore, or any violence. Atmosphere is the key to horror, and every element is perfectly constructed to heighten this; the soundtrack, layered and moody, the cinematography beautifully employing wide desolate spaces with oppressive confines, the acting, all of it conveying the necessary terror and confusion, the unforgettable figure of Michael Myers himself..
There is much more I would like to have written about, but this will have to suffice.