Oh, dear readers, after the audacious fiasco of Rob Zombie’s first “Halloween” attempt, you’d think a lesson would have been learned. Alas, the universe had other plans, and we were graced (or cursed, depending on your perspective) with “Halloween II”. It’s akin to going back for seconds at a buffet, even though the first plate gave you food poisoning.
Zombie’s sequel, if anything, doubles down on the messy abandon of its predecessor. If the first was a shout, this one’s an earsplitting scream, and not the enjoyable kind you’d expect from a horror film. More like the sound you’d make if someone stepped on your toe while wearing steel-toed boots.
From the very outset, there’s a lingering sense of déjà vu, but not in a good way. It’s like being on a rerun of a bad trip. The movie gives off the impression of a punk rocker trying to play Beethoven – there’s passion, sure, but also a lot of misplaced energy and head-scratching decisions.
Now, let’s chat about the dream sequences. Ah, the dreams. They’re about as subtle as a sledgehammer to the face. Filled with white horses and ethereal, symbolic imagery, it’s as if Zombie had a checklist titled “Things People Think Are Deep.” But much like instant coffee trying to pass as a gourmet espresso, these sequences feel diluted, pretentious, and ultimately pointless.
And then there’s Laurie Strode. The transformation of this character from Carpenter’s original survivor girl to Zombie’s angst-filled, scream queen is jarring. It feels like watching your childhood friend become an insufferable teen who just discovered emo music. Every shout, every tantrum, every eye-roll seems to channel the spirit of teen rebellion rather than genuine horror victim trauma.
The return of Dr. Loomis as an arrogant, money-grubbing caricature is another interesting choice. It’s like taking Sherlock Holmes and turning him into a sleazy tabloid reporter. The attempt at satirizing commercialization and the media’s obsession with crime could have been clever. Still, in Zombie’s hands, it feels as tacky as a velvet painting of dogs playing poker.
The violence and gore, once more, are turned up to eleven. If Rob Zombie’s mantra for the first movie was “More is more,” for the sequel it’s “Even more is still not enough.” Blood flows like cheap wine at an undergrad party – plenty, but none of it satisfying.
Cinematography-wise, Zombie seems to have been inspired by frantic music videos. Quick cuts and disorienting angles are aplenty. It’s like the camera was given a line of white powder and then told to go wild. Some shots are visually stunning, true, but they get drowned in the overall chaotic mosaic.
“Halloween II” is like a fever dream. It’s both a continuation and an escalation of the bizarre choices made in the first. To watch it is to embark on a rollercoaster designed by someone who’s never seen a rollercoaster but had one described to them during a loud concert. It’s loud, it’s disorienting, and you’ll probably want to get off halfway through. If you’re in the mood for a cinematic funhouse mirror that warps and exaggerates everything it reflects, this is the ticket. Otherwise, proceed with caution and maybe a bottle of aspirin.