Halloween Retrospective: Halloween II (2009)

Halloween Retrospective | #10 | Halloween II (2009)

Note: I am reviewing the Unrated Director’s Cut of this film.

After the financial success of 2007’s Halloween, producer Malek Akkad got to work on developing a sequel. Despite originally discussing the project with French filmmakers Julien Maury and Alexandre Bustillo (of Inside fame), the project eventually returned to Rob Zombie, who, after a break from the production of the original film, was open to the idea of returning. Akkad wanted Zombie to ignore the restrictions placed upon him for 2007’s Halloween and to take the franchise into uncharted waters, and Zombie obliged, casting aside the previous film’s need to stick too close to the original and making a project that was entirely his own. The result is quite possibly one of the most underrated films ever made.

It’s tempting for me to speculate on why this film is so loathed. Surely the apparently butchered theatrical cut, that reframes Laurie’s entire character arc and changes the entire ending has a big part to do with it. This is also probably the least traditional Halloween film to date; those invested in the franchise and particularly nostalgic for the 80’s style it thrived in were probably particularly burned by this one. From what I’ve heard from its detractors, though, I think it’s a film that’s very easy to misunderstand if you don’t have the lived experience necessary to relate to it. Despite quite a lot of fantastical flourishes, Halloween II strikes at something real in the heart of humanity that most of the other films in this series fail to, and I think people don’t seem to see that.

Where the first film was ultimately the story of Michael Myers, the second film is about Laurie Strode. Picking up two years after the events of Halloween night, Laurie is still trying to recover from her encounter with Michael Myers. She now lives with her friend Annie, the only other survivor of Michael’s rampage, and her father, the sheriff. The memory of Michael haunts her, and while she has new friends and a somewhat new life, she can’t leave the events of that night behind.

This is the part of Halloween II that hits the most true to home. A lot of fans of the franchise have accused the Laurie of this film of being intensely unlikeable, but to say that is completely missing the point. This is one of the most raw and unfiltered portrayals of trauma and intense mental illness I’ve ever seen on screen, and Scout Taylor-Compton’s phenomenal performance captures her desperation and anger and helplessness all swirling together perfectly. To her, Michael Myers is dead – she shot him at the end of the first film – but he lives on within her. His memory has turned her into something she never was; a wounded animal stuck in a trap, gnawing off her own leg trying to escape. Her new friends don’t really understand, and Annie, who does, is a living reminder of everything she went through. She pushes everyone and everything aside, but also holds onto them with a white-knuckled grip. She hurts them all, but most of all she hurts herself.

There’s a scene where Laurie is meeting with her therapist. She’s having a total breakdown, recounting events of her day that she says made her feel good, only she’s pacing back and forth and sobbing uncontrollably. The editing and camerawork are frantic, and it culminates with her demanding more medication from her therapist, recounting a vicious PTSD attack she had during the day. Her therapist tries to walk her through breathing exercises, but Laurie is drowning in pain and emotion and she lashes out and goes on a tirade. This scene hit home for me in a really uncomfortable way. I’ve had more than one mental breakdown in my life, and the feeling that you’re suffocating in your own mind, drowning in your pain, that you need help and that no matter what the people supposed to be helping you don’t seem interested in doing so. It doesn’t matter if they are or aren’t, what matters is that the world is a dark and bleak place and nobody can help you, and the only emotions you have are anger and frustration and despair and pure terror.

Dr. Sam Loomis, played by returning actor Malcolm McDowell, returns, and this time he’s become a far worse person. The first film envisioned him as someone who went from perhaps a well-meaning child psychiatrist to a tasteless hack who exploited the infamy of his patient for money. Whereas in that film, he still possessed some traces of guilt and internal conflict, in this one all goodness within him seems to have broken. He mines the deaths of his patient’s victims for profit, publishing personal details and doing book tours and interviews at the major locations of Michael’s rampage. He and Laurie are never in the same place, but his presence is felt; a living monument to the brutal legacy of Michael Myers that won’t leave her behind.

All the while, Michael Myers draws ever closer. He’s alive, you see; he escaped from the truck on the way to the morgue, and Laurie never got her closure. He’s still out there, and his internal world is more fractured than ever. He sees images of his dead mother and his younger self. He’s still the same angry and murderous 10 year old, only much bigger now, and he wants to be a family again. These hallucinations are perhaps the other most contentious point in the film, and to be honest them, along with the white horse motif, definitely seem forced. But there’s something just gleefully strange and weird about them; they’re unlike anything else we’ve seen in these films and they have a sort of charm that I really like.

It’s never properly revealed how Michael Myers survived a gunshot wound to the head, and I don’t think it needs to be. It’s for the same reason I don’t mind the use of surrealism in Michael’s visions, or the way that Laurie begins to see those visions for herself. Michael Myers is making a beeline directly to Haddonfield, and nobody seems to notice despite the wake of horrifically brutal violence in his wake. It’s not until the climax that all three of these roads converge, and Michael is the ticking clock that’s counting down to that endgame. As Halloween draws closer, Laurie spirals more and more, losing her grip, and Michael Myers and the existential threat he poses – as well as revelations about their shared past – transcend the literal and become a symbol of death and insanity; a true apocalypse that Laurie is destined to meet head on as her trauma consumes her.

Slasher movies are about violence in the same way that heavy metal is about electric guitars. It defines the genre in a key way, but despite that we rarely ever see any explorations on the repercussions of that violence. In most Halloween movies, violence and killing is an entertainment device first and foremost; here, it’s the exact opposite. This is the bleakest and most brutal Michael Myers has ever been. Every cut and stab has the force of a thousand furious bulls. He’s an unstoppable killing machine, tearing about people with a ferocity the subgenre rarely sees. All this in the wake of Laurie dealing with the permanent, pervading psychological scars his violence inflicts.

From the opening homage to Rick Rosenthal’s Halloween II (1981) to the strange and slightly silly surrealism of Michael’s visions to the harrowing breakdown of Laurie Strode, I found Halloween II to be simply brilliant. This film is full of bold and daring ideas, and even when they don’t work 100% they still feel unique. This is not only the best Halloween film in decades, but it’s also one of the best slasher films I’ve ever seen, and it’s a shame that it was panned as badly as it was. Zombie’s film deserves better.