Halloween Ends
Their saga ends.
Year of Release: 2022
Genre: Horror
Rated: R
Running Time: 111 minutes (1:51)
Director: David Gordon Green
Cast:
Jamie Lee Curtis ... Laurie
Andi Matichak ... Allyson
Rohan Campbell ... Corey
James Jude Courtney ... The Shape
Will Patton ... Frank
Kyle Richards ... Lindsey
Diana Prince ... Radio Receptionist
Omar J. Dorsey ... Sheriff Barker
Jibrail Nantambu ... Julian
Nick Castle ... Flasher
Summary:
Michael hasn't been seen for four years after the events of Halloween Kills. Laurie lives with her granddaughter Allyson and has chosen to liberate herself from fear and rage and embrace life. When a young man is accused of killing a boy he was babysitting, a cascade of violence and terror is ignited with a final confrontation between Laurie and Michael unlike any ever captured on screen.
Review:
Halloween Ends, remindin' us that God always opens a door for those in need... of an attitude adjustment.
And speakin' of justifiable homicide, we're now one year removed from the City Council's axing of "non-film-related activities" at the Grime Time, and the prospect of havin' a Halloween free from attacks by mutant pack rats, nomadic wildmen, or the PTA in response to the disproportionate number of teenage pregnancies coming due nine months after the holiday has been so freeing that I might even vote for a coupla those chunkheads in next week's election.
I would like to state, for the record, that censorship is a slippery slope, and that ordinarily, I am opposed to fascism in all its forms. I do, however, draw the line at brain-damaged shamans directing packs of rabid animals to gnaw my groceries while I'm tryna watch Night of the Living Dead, and I'm sure all the men out there can appreciate my position on this matter.
Anyway, like I was sayin', this was the first Halloween in a decade where I wasn't either recoverin' from the psychological trauma of nearly bein' eaten, under suspicion of human trafficking following the disappearance of local citizens lost in the Sage Maze, or trapped at the bottom of a well. In light of this, I thought it'd be nice to have a normal evenin' at the house with Apollo, Shankles, Billy Hilliard, and the four Star Search hopefuls we rescued from the Dork from Ork who had 'em livin' in a yurt with no electricity or access to underwire support.
I dunno about Billy, but I was feelin' pretty good about the progress my two wards were makin' toward societal reintegration, and it seemed to me that Stardust and Cosmos both stood a good chance of landin' gigs at Mack's Stacks of Manly Snacks or even Walleye's Topless Dancin' & Bait Shop, and so to celebrate I programmed a triple feature for the occasion that I knew they'd appreciate - Queen of Outer Space, Invasion of the Star Creatures, and Barbarella.
Ran outta candy in under 30 minutes when word got around that Gemini was handlin' trick-or-treat duties, and I have reason to believe that the same kids were all just circlin' the block over and over to get a look at her celestial body. Seems like a distant memory even though it was only a coupla hours ago, and because it feels like the details are tryna wink themselves out of existence, I'm gonna chronicle everything here for posterity to make sure some record of the truth remains. It may not seem important now, but there're cynical people out there who refuse to believe that Billy and I each had, however temporary, living arrangements with two intergalactic foxes.
"You hear that?" I asked Billy, pausing momentarily to enjoy an event almost as rare as Halley's Comet.
"Ih wuv Apowo," Billy lied, moving outta the living room to keep the gals from detecting his left cheek sneak.
"Not that. Listen," I instructed.
"I'ow heow nuffin'," he replied.
"Exactly. No panic. No terror. No screams," I said, basking in the uncharacteristic calm.
"Wha' 'bow Zsa Zsa?" Billy asked.
"We can mute her if she gets outta control. We're really onto somethin' here. This's how it always shoulda--" I was ramblin' when the first knock in over 20 minutes hit the front door.
"Spoze that'll be the Grim Reaper," I conceded en route to the livin' room.
Turns out it was somethin' even worse, or at least I woulda thought so this time last year. But I gotta admit that the kid's turned a complete... well, maybe not a 180... but a solid 155 at least.
"Trick-or-treat," Harley Pankins and Jeannie Bigelow chorused, somehow still together in complete defiance of reason, common sense, and the nightly prayers of their parents.
"Harley, what'n hell're you supposed to be?" I asked in a state of confusion I hadn't felt since Jack Nance became a parent in Eraserhead.
"What's it look like?" Harley growled.
"Looks like the Hamburglar's home invasion of Mayor McCheese's estate went bad," I grimaced, looking over the Kraft single/ketchup makeover he'd undergone.
"I'm Freddy Krueger, asshole," Harley snapped.
"Well, you smell like snack time at the preschool," I squinted, tryna figure out where his design went sideways.
"*I* think he's handsome," Jeannie interjected, bitin' off a chunk of American that'd come loose from Harley's jaw.
"Just give us some candy ya mean old bastard," Harley scowled.
"Haven't got any. Tell ya what though - sit down on the floor there and I'll get Apollo to eat that crap off your face and once he's done I'll apply what's left of the Red Baron on the stove outta respect for the memory of Wes Craven," I offered.
"Cool," Harley agreed, floppin' down next to the Colortrak and invitin' Apollo to get crackin'.
Probably didn't do great things for his already horrific complexion but it turned out alright and it was a good thing too, 'cause while I was workin' on 'im Harley tipped me off that Mark Skidman and Kord Skogerboe were roamin' the neighborhood in his International with a bed fulla toilet paper, and so when they parked about a half block away Billy and I were ready for 'em.
"Don't slam the door, ballgag," Mark snarled at Kord as the sound alerted several nearby dogs.
"Eat me, fuck nugget. 'Sides, if he's got them ditzy bitches in there he won't hear nothin'," Kord insisted.
They were so engaged in challengin' each others' sexual preferences that neither noticed the light as I lit the oily shop rag we'd wrapped around the arrow Billy had nocked, and once they were a safe distance from the truck Billy loosed it directly into their stash.
"Holy shit!" Kord shrieked, droppin' his roll and swiveling his head side to side to locate the source of the arrow.
"Ya know if Trump is reelected you guys're gonna really regret wastin' all that buttwipe," I yelled from behind the shrub.
"You're insane!" Mark screamed, unsure whether to abandon the truck or hop in and try gettin' it to the nearest carwash.
"We ow go a wi'ow mah fumfime'v," Billy howled as they made the decision to jump in and flee.
You could follow the blaze pretty clearly as their acceleration succeeded mightily in fanning the flames until they lucked out and plowed over a fire hydrant that they were able to use to douse the fire - though I don't imagine they got far after the fact given what the hydrant did to their radiator.
My memory of the rest of the evening is hazy, and I guess I don't expect anyone to believe my story considerin' I was there and I'm not sure I believe it.
Musta been around 12:30 in the AM on account of the midnight munchies that'd taken hold, but one of the last things I remember is arguin' with Billy about what temperature to cook the pizza rolls at, when the front door (that I know damn well I'd locked) cracked open and next thing we knew Stardust, Gemini, Moonlite, and Cosmos all stood up at the same moment and walked outta the house single file.
There was a horrible bright light outside like the one you see when your alarm clock goes off at 5:30 the mornin' after you've gotten schnozzled on cheap tequila. I figured it was just Mark comin' to get the last word with that halogen lightbar he's got on the roof of his truck, but when Billy and I stepped out to cave his face in neither Mark nor truck was anywhere to be found, and we saw four bald-headed Make-a-Wish kids leadin' our gals out into the street directly under the light.
Next thing I remember is wakin' up three hours later with Shankles screamin' in my face about the state of his bowl. No note. No number where the girls could be reached. Just gone. Our one shot at a Mormon harem that can stomach atrocious science fiction films - vanished. Where the heck's Leonard Nimoy when ya need him?
Billy wants to sell our story to MUFON and I keep tellin' 'im how they're a reputable organization that'll never believe we had four nubile young ladies livin' with us, but it sounds like he may try it anyway. I think maybe he thinks if he strikes it rich Moonlite and Gemini'll come back, but I'm here to tell ya - that mothership has sailed.
Anyway, after we regained consciousness and confirmed that there were no probes lodged in embarrassin' places, I got up, extinguished what had once been our pizza rolls, and put Halloween Ends on once it dawned on me our science fiction extravaganza would only remind us of what we'd lost.
I figured what the heck, we're already depressed - why not get this Halloween business finished up? 'Course I'd been hearin' how bad it was for the past two years, and as you probably know - the more people whine about how terrible a flick is, the more certain it becomes that what you're dealin' with is an average movie that wasn't what people wanted. Believe me, I know - when I watched the Chainsaw remake hopin' it was all a cruel joke and it turned out there was actually a movie on the tape instead of just static I was P.O.'d.
All the same, this'll be the last time our original final girl squares off with the Boogeyman, and so the least we can do is wish her a bon voyage, thank her for reaffirmin' her commitment to the genre that brought 'er to the dance, and give her a chance to surprise us before goin' back to watchin' the 1978 version every year like reasonable people.
I was gonna get all hyperbolic and try boostin' everyone's enthusiasm with examples of the kinda stuff a person could learn from the flick but then I remembered I was two years late gettin' to the party. I'm gonna go ahead and rattle 'em off anyhow (just don't go expectin' a lotta passion), so for those of you who've already observed and absorbed these film factoids, I'd appreciate it if you'd nod sagely and pretend these're all recent revelations.
First, among the myriad indecipherable signals broadcast by women, seeking a used muffler as a path to courtship is one of the most baffling. Second, sometimes all ya need to break out of a slump is someone who believes in you. And third, evil never dies, but it often hibernates when its licensing agreement changes hands.
The movie begins one year after the events of Halloween Kills in the home of an upwardly mobile couple who're turnin' the keys of their kingdom over to a Bad Ronald-esque wimp babysitter (Corey) so they can go out to a party and spend the rest of their lives suspicious of each other following flirtatious comments made following an over-indulgence of spiked punch. Everything seems nominal until the kid starts dunkin' on his warden while they're watchin' The Thing on cable and decidin' to make like Kevin McCallister and lead Corey into a storage room on the second floor where he locks 'im in and 'causes a claustrophobic freakout that ends with Corey kickin' the door open, blastin' the kid with the knob, and sendin' 'im tumblin' over the railing to crash onto the hardwood floor with a satisfying, potato salad like plop. Next thing, it's three years later and Jamie Lee Curtis brings us up to speed on the events of the last 40 years for the dyslexic viewers who rented the flick with "Ends" in the title first, and she goes on to explain how she's gotten 'erself together, canceled her NRA membership, and dedicated the rest of her life to doin' regular grandma stuff like baking pumpkin pies and tryna figure out what the kids mean when they say something "slaps." Elsewhere, we learn that the case against Corey was ruled justifiable self-defense by a jury of biased, childless retail workers who've been subjected to the abuse of unaccompanied children every day for the last ten years, and that he now works at a salvage yard amputating serviceable parts offa cars totaled by inattentive drivers searching for the perfect emoji to include in their text messages.
Needless to say, Corey's reputation around Haddonfield has taken a hit after the child, and subsequent story surrounding the event dropped, so now he can't even stop in at the local Stop 'n Rob for a bottle of Yoo-hoo without a buncha high school kids hasslin' 'im and jammin' a shard of his chocolate chalice into his palm. Thankfully, Jamie's grabbin' a tank of diesel at the time and threatens to make the punks watch Perfect at gunpoint until they head into the store, at which time Jamie passes Corey a switchblade and suggests he use it on their car to transmute a right out of two wrongs. She then drops Corey off at the E.R. where her granddaughter (Allyson) works to see about gettin' the glass out of his hand so he can at least get his deposit back until the two of 'em're on the verge of havin' an actual relationship with another human and that scares Corey so bad that he hasta ride home and sit through dinner with his untamed shrew of a mother to remind 'imself why he's single. Allyson's persistent though, and she eventually convinces 'im to go to the bar with 'er so they can spaz out on the dance floor like epileptic mongeese until Corey sits down to rest beside the alcohol-fueled carcass of the woman whose kid failed to tuck his head when he Swanton Bombed over the handrail and she basically makes like Alanis Morissette and reminds 'im of the mess he left when he went away. Allyson tries to stop 'im when he goes hoofin' it down the highway but by that point he's turned edgelord on 'er and he ends up gettin' jumped by the teenage dirtbags who pitch 'im over a bridge where he's dragged into a culvert pipe and durn near strangled by a washed-up Michael Myers who seems to gaze into his soul like Chris Walken in The Dead Zone until he realizes the cruelest thing he could do is let him live.
Unfortunately, the ill-tempered, Munchausen's Syndrome-suffering hobo livin' under the adjoining bridge is less sympathetic, and when Corey comes crawlin' outta the tunnel he's ordered to reenter Club C.H.U.D. and retrieve Mike's mask at knifepoint, forcin' Corey to wrestle the knife away from 'im and stab 'im a half dozen times until he looks like a Thanksgivin' turkey that found itself on the wrong end of Starvin' Marvin's meat thermometer. He then goes to apologize to Allyson for ditchin' out on 'er, only when he shows up Jamie gets a case of the deja voodoo heebies until the kids go out for chicken wings to build a relationship based upon shared psychological trauma. This doesn't sit well with Allyson's Bro-Magnon ex-boyfriend who becomes confused and angry by Corey's use of the mysterious metallic tools placed on either side of his dinner plate, and so he decides to follow Corey when he leaves the diner and ends up bein' led down into the sewer where Corey helps a visibly haggard Mike murder the guy to help 'im get his groove back. His popularity at an all-time high, Corey then heads over to the bachelor pad of Allyson's boss who's preparin' to test the gag reflex of the head nurse only to be diagnosed with hypohemia and an estimated 6 - 8 seconds to live following an experimental neckterectomy procedure. The lady in waiting manages to shut the sliding door before Corey can trigger a code blue, 'cept while she's callin' the cops Mike comes in through the side door with a warm nostalgic feelin' and decides to tack 'er to the wall and cock his head to the side like a confused cocker spaniel for old time's sake. Then Corey and Allyson go up on the roof of the local radio station to wallow in their self-destructive tendencies until the DJ gets P.O.'d and tells 'em to take their geek tragedy and get the heck outta there before he puts Michael Bolton's Greatest Hits on loop and gives his rabid audience their license plate number.
Meanwhile, Corey's mama's become increasingly hacked off ever since her 20-something son entered the terrible teens, and when he goes home she tells 'im to get out and stay out until he works through this whole "self-respect" phase he's goin' through and is prepared to be surgically reattached to her skirt where he belongs. So now he hasta crash at the abandoned house where the kid he was babysittin' got twisted into a Rold Gold pretzel and when he wakes up the next mornin' Jamie's sittin' in a chair scowlin' at 'im like the after church crowd sizin' up the wait staff at a greasy spoon before tellin' 'im in no uncertain terms that she knows what he is and that he'd best keep his Michael Myer Wiener away from Allyson if he wants to maintain the use of it. 'Course Jamie don't realize that Corey and Allyson've already made a doomed lovers pact and're about to leave town, but first Corey's got some unfinished business to take care of, and once he wrestles Mike's mask away from 'im he lures his teenage tormenters into the salvage yard and strips all but one down for parts while the lone survivor busts in on the manager (Corey's boss) while he's tryna watch Van Damme kick hiney in Hard Target. The manager goes to investigate and finds 'imself grapplin' with whether or not to shoot Corey since it'd result in the loss of his best tig welder, but the choice is ultimately made for him when the little bastard that roused 'im accidentally pumps a slug through his brain before Corey lays the punk out and gives 'im a Freddy Krueger makeover with a cuttin' torch.
Havin' completed that little chore, Corey then proceeds to break his mother's heart, go postal on Darcy the Mailgirl, and deliver the America's Top 40 Beatdown to the DJ who's been soiling the name of Michael Myers in a sickening display of commercialism for the better part of the flick. That just leaves Jamie who's now completely distraught after failin' to make Allyson understand that 'er boyfriend's psyche has been taken over by a washed-up, geriatric serial killer fightin' a losing battle against father time in a bid for one last hurrah, and she's so bummed out by this turn of events that she decides to take the easy way out. 'Least that's what she wants Corey to think, and because there's no substitute for experience, he gets totally suckered in when she fires a shot through the bedroom wall and ends up with two in his chest on his way through the staircase handrail after tryna confirm that the original final girl's been finalized. Jamie figures she's got 'im right where he wants 'im now, only just then they hear Allyson's car pull up to the house and Corey gets this grin on his face like an 8-year-old who just dug a glow-in-the-dark Crackle figure outta the Rice Krispies box and informs Jamie that if he can't have Allyson no one can before performin' exploratory surgery on his own jugular. It probably goes without saying, but eight seconds is wholly insufficient for constructing a suitable "this isn't what it looks like" story to account for the rapidly cooling body of your granddaughter's boyfriend, and after a brief bout of incoherent Klingon funeral howling, Allyson drives off in disgust.
Then Mike steps in through the back door to lament the lack of good help in the current job market and remove the court jester occupyin' his throne, only when he goes to collect his tools Corey grabs his ankle and leaves Mike no choice but to twist his head around like a paranoid barn owl. Anybody else would find this to be cause for alarm, but Jamie don't fear the reaper, and while Mike's puttin' his face on she sticks somethin' greasy and easily pressurized in the microwave before hidin' in the pantry where she waits patiently for the kielbasa to explode, creating just enough of a distraction to catch Mike off guard, bust a bottle over his skull, and kick off the final round of their last televised fight. This is as far as I wanna go, but considering how detached this one feels from the rest of the series you can't help but wonder if they might have the guts to dispatch Jamie Lee Curtis in the final moments. Regardless, if you've come this far you probably don't need my encouragement to stick it out to the end, but just to offer one last bit of incentive they will be bringin' back everyone that managed to escape Mike's wrath goin' back to the beginning of their trilogy as a pay off for the folks payin' attention.
Alrighty, so, a mere 44 years and 13 movies later, Halloween is finally over... ya know, until somebody drives a dumptruck fulla money up to Malek Akkad's house and figures out a way to start it up again. Admittedly, doing so may take some pretty lengthy consideration given that the current series diverges into five different timelines (if one is to include Halloween III as its own stand-alone feature), though I have the utmost confidence that greed will ultimately prevail. I won't go into all the various timelines out of respect for your sanity, but the conclusion of the timeline culminating with the Blumhouse trilogy is one of the most divisive entries of the entire franchise, and somewhat mirrors the critical reception of Halloween III, which you'll recall moved away from the Michael Myers/Laurie Strode story that audiences had, up to that time, considered synonymous with the Halloween series.
Of course, in the four decades since Tommy Lee Wallace terrorized us with the Silver Shamrock jingle, much of the fanbase has come around to accepting Halloween III as a decent (if incongruent) entry in the series, and I believe that, in time, the same will be true of Halloween Ends given that the reason for its high rate of disapproval is the same - namely, that it's not what people expected. On the one hand, Blumhouse deserves a lot of credit for having the guts to make this flick considering they had to know there was a high percentage of the fanbase that would reject it as heresy, though, on the other hand, you could very easily make the case that it did not make good business sense to so dramatically reduce the screentime of the Michael Myers and Laurie Strode characters.
I've never been one to feel that my existence was being systematically attacked by a movie so I may not be the best person to ask about the film's place in genre history, but while I wouldn't call it a particularly strong entry in the franchise, it is better than Halloween Kills, and I respect a studio, ANY studio, willing to take a chance in an era where the industry output consists of a very narrow band of proven commodities being constantly updated. That said, the irony of this chance being taken within the boundaries of one of those commodities is not lost on me.
Whatever your opinion on the direction Blumhouse chose to take its trilogy, I've always been more interested in whether a movie succeeds at what it sets out to do rather than whether or not it does what I think it should, so with that in mind, let's zoom in and see if they've zeroed in on the vitals or scored only minor flesh wounds.
The plot continues with the previously established idea that Michael Myers feeds on the fear of the townspeople he menaces in a manner befitting the boogeyman - the result of which has led to a serious reduction in his physical strength after having been challenged by the entire town at the climax of Halloween Kills, and his subsequent disappearance. Questionable though it may be given Myers' history as a lone wolf, it isn't entirely illogical for him to enter into an unspoken, mutually beneficial pact if it means recovering his strength and returning to form. However, Blumhouse is also adding a new element into the equation by seemingly making portions of Michael's supernatural power transferrable, and I think doing this so late in the game invites valid criticism. To be clear, they haven't gone against any established canon, they've simply done something that may have been possible throughout the saga but never utilized to this point, but it's the kinda thing that's bound to infuriate long-time fans who would consider the mythology of Michael Myers be simple and sacrosanct.
On the indisputably human side of the coin, the evolution of the relationship between Laurie and her granddaughter, and Laurie putting in the work to get her life back on track ring true, as does the mutual attraction of the two emotionally damaged protagonists finally finding a kinship that'd been missing from each others' lives up to that point. Again, you can question whether this was a wise path to follow, but when you drill down into the backstories of everyone involved, the development of the returning characters has advanced in a way that makes sense for all parties, and which feels authentic even if it sometimes leads them to make bad choices.
The acting is top-notch, even if we do hafta wait an hour and a half for Jamie Lee Curtis to fall back into full-on Ma'ambo mode. I know I've probably said this before, but Curtis continuing her involvement in the Halloween series at age 64, with a resume that allows her to choose any project she likes, is something that has endeared her to genre fans in a way that most big name stars can never hope to achieve. I'm not gonna gush over her too much longer, but her willingness to return to a genre that up until recently has been held in open contempt by academics and casting directors means a lot.
Additionally, Andi Matichak continues to impress with her portrayal of the increasingly cynical and potentially irreparably damaged Allyson, as she spirals further out of orbit in terms of what makes a person socially acceptable. That said, I think Rohan Campbell as Corey is phenomenal in a performance that will no doubt be derided for years to come for the simple fact that certain people feel his character has no business even being in the film. Regardless, his evolution from gutless wimp to full-blown psycho is excellent and, at times, bears a favorable resemblance to Michael Rooker's portrayal of Henry Lee Lucas in Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer.
Here's who matters and why (less Jamie Lee Curtis and Diana Prince): Andi Matichak (Halloween 2018, Halloween Kills, Assimilate), James Jude Courtney (Halloween 2018, Halloween Kills, Devil in the Flesh, Philadelphia Experiment II), Will Patton (The Mothman Prophecies, Halloween 2018, Halloween Kills, The Forever Purge, The Devil Below, The Fourth Kind, The Puppet Masters), Kyle Richards (Halloween 1978, The Watcher in the Woods, Halloween Kills, The Car, Eaten Alive 1976), Omar J. Dorsey (Halloween 2018, Halloween Kills), Jesse C. Boyd (Halloweed), Michael Barbieri (The Dark Tower), Joey Harris (Lisa Frankenstein), Joanne Baron (Drag Me to Hell, iMurders, Resurrection Mary 1 & 2, The Dentist), Michael O'Leary (Fatal Games), Candice Rose (The Unseen 2023, Husk, Skinwalker: Curse of the Shaman), Blaque Fowler (The Nest 2021, Jacob's Ladder 2019, The Evil Inside Her, The Hunger Games: Catching Fire), Holli Saperstein (Halloween Kills, The Devil's Hand), Jibrail Nantambu (Halloween 2018, Halloween Kills), Nick Castle (Halloween 1978, Halloween 2018, Halloween Kills, Dark Star, Escape from New York), Dillon Belisle (Halloween Kills), Scott Bennett (The Batman, The Matrix Resurrections, Jurassic World Dominion), Brandon Hardison (Halloween Kills), Derrick Lemmon (Monster Summer, The Black Phone), Stephanie McIntyre (Halloween Kills, The Purge: Election Year), Taylor Rosa (Scream VI), Kahzim Yazici (Halloween Kills).
And the mainstream credits: Will Patton (Dan Weaver on Falling Skies, Jackson Haisley on The Agency, Atley Jackson in Gone in 30 Seconds, Kentucky Bluebird on Search for Tomorrow), Kyle Richards (Nurse Dori Kerns on E.R., Lissy Preston on Down to Earth), Omar J. Dorsey (Hollywood Desonier on Queen Sugar).
The special effects come less frequently than those of its predecessor and include an unfortunate amount of CGI. I honestly can't tell how the plummeting child in the opening sequence was created, but I'm leaning towards CG given how quickly it falls in conjunction with a general lack of motion. It's a short sequence that isn't especially damaging to the flick due to the shock factor of what you've just witnessed, and if completed via CG, is among the best of its ilk. Less impressive are the stabbing death of the cop in the sewer (though this is mitigated by the low light level), the blood spray anytime a is knife is removed, the fire at the radio station, the bullet hole through the forehead of the wrecking yard manager, and the severing of the DJ's tongue which, while spectacularly disgusting, is not the least bit convincing. Still, it's not all bad, with the cutting torch kill looking alright, a decent crushed head, an excellent sliced throat and wrist, and a quality blood formula that achieves good consistency and color. In truth, I'll probably never be on board with CGI, but I will say that, although the mechanism employed for the final kill of the flick doesn't look that good, its effect on the body fed into it isn't bad.
The shooting locations are fairly mundane, if well shot by returning cinematographer Michael Simmonds who does a nice job capturing the Autumn atmosphere. I tend to struggle when rating locations for newer flicks just due to how samey modern architecture has become, but my personal preference for times and places that distinguished themselves with charm notwithstanding, there's nothing *wrong* with the diner, hospital, or McMansion used in the film. Thankfully, there are some quality spots to help balance out the lesser locations, including a great salvage yard, the local watering hole, and a mom 'n pop convenience store that's so typical of the American Southeast that it challenges the geography a little bit. Of course, for a big-budget flick like this the studio was never gonna allow its production crew to go rootin' around in a disused section of actual sewer, but nice as it woulda been to've gotten to see something C.H.U.D. adjacent, the sewer set is fine. Bottom line - nothing memorable, but nothing detrimental.
The soundtrack is, no hyperbole, the best of the entire series. And going a step further, I believe it to be the best composition in the career of a man who is among the top five greatest composers in genre history. As with its two Blumhouse companion pieces, Carpenter again collaborates with son Cody and Daniel Davies, but solid as those two soundtracks are, the trio went all-out for this one and produced 21 tracks that not only produce the desired emotional effect for every scene, but do so without blowing out the audience's eardrums to produce cheap jump scares. This is not only refreshing but ensures the few tracks that do utilize percussion get the desired effect, as the audience hasn't become desensitized through overuse. Some folks might argue that it's easy to create a successful Halloween soundtrack given the iconic nature of the series' main theme and a composer's ability to draw from the wealth of material already available, but Halloween Ends knows exactly when to play the hits and is careful not to oversaturate the score with them. Complete, is probably the best way to describe it, and then as now, they achieve this primarily with piano and synthesizer to create something that is both completely new and entirely familiar. Rarely is a soundtrack this atmospheric and catchy without relying on the old trick of simply remixing the film's best piece ten different ways, and although there is some retooling of classic music here, the new and the old come together to earn the film a perfect musical score.
Overall, Halloween Ends dares to be different and bore a major backlash for its decision to do so, but the producers at Blumhouse know their Halloween history and keep the homages coming at a pace that even the angriest of fanboys will appreciate between scowls. Undoubtedly, it will always be viewed through a Jason Goes to Hell-type lens where a portion of the audience hates it eternally for failing to match their expectations, but it's really nothing to get bent out of shape about. Final verdict - better than everything following Halloween 4 except Halloween (2018), and a decent, if somewhat underwhelming conclusion to the Blumhouse trilogy. I'd suggest you check it out, but odds are you already did and are currently working on an angry email telling me why I'm wrong and not a real fan of horror films.
Rating: 68%