Review: TALES OF HALLOWEEN (2015)

TALES OF HALLOWEEN is the most fun I've had at the movies this year, which is partly owing to my love of all things All Hallow's Eve (except the movie, ALL HALLOW'S EVE), but also to the simple fact that it's an uproariously enjoyable horror anthology. Like TRICK 'R TREAT, TALES OF HALLOWEEN serves as a sort of Halloween special for adults, evoking those wonderful nights of yore when you'd be transported to magical towns where skeletons drive cabs and werewolves style hair, or to those run-of-the-mill Midwestern towns where, quite simply, Halloween still means something, and kids defy their parents and the forces of evil to ensure that it's celebrated. It seems that in our haste to grow up, we sometimes forget what's so amazing about Halloween, a night full of strange mysteries and ancient traditions, when you can be whoever or whatever you want to be, including a drunk in a revealing cat costume, because despite pumpkin-thumping purists' tut-tutting, partying has always been a part of our modern Halloween. However, we ought to remember that Halloween affords us the opportunity to be something far more incredible than drunk; we can be kids. We can eat candy until we're sick, wear weird getups without worrying what people think, and stay up all night watching scary movies. TALES OF HALLOWEEN understands all of this, its segments capturing Halloween from every angle. Moreover, that each segment represents the style and vision of a different director effectively allows the film to capture one of the most essential aspects of Halloween: individual expression.

There are ten segments in all, each taking place in the same town on the same Halloween night, as indicated by the presence of reoccurring characters from one segment to the next. A WARRIORS-esque, omniscient radio DJ, played by Adrienne Barbeau (one of countless horror icons who make a cameo appearance over the course of the film), also serves to tie everything together. Some segments are better than others, which is to be expected from any horror anthology, but all of them are, at the very least, entertaining, delivering laughs, chills, or both. The film is a beautiful love letter to Halloween, drawing from its many traditions and showing a reverence for them in its depictions of what horrible fates befall transgressors, again, similar to TRICK 'R TREAT. Whereas TRICK 'R TREAT is first and foremost a horror film, though, TALES OF HALLOWEEN often sacrifices tension and mood for the sake of comedy, or else uses them to mislead us before ultimately finding humor in transgressing horror traditions. So, for example, in Mike "BIG ASS SPIDER!" Mendez's segment, "Friday the 31st," a mask-wearing, machete-wielding maniac—and obvious homage to FRIDAY THE 13TH's Jason Voorhees—pursues a "final girl," i.e. the virginal heroine of a horror movie who manages to outlast everyone else. Things take a sudden, and frankly fucking weird turn, though, when after spearing his prey, the killer is confronted by a claymated alien. It's hilarious to see this hulking monster scratch his head and mumble shit basically translating to "WTF," as this tiny, Henry Selick reject repeatedly chirps, "trick or treat!" Things get even more hilarious when, after being denied candy, the alien streams into the dead girl's mouth to possess her corpse and engage the killer in a ridiculously over-the-top machete fight.

"Bad Seed," from Neil Marshall, writer-director of modern horror classics, DOG SOLDIERS and THE DESCENT, turns in an equally absurd segment about a genetically modified pumpkin going around town biting people's heads off. Equal parts ATTACK OF THE KILLER TOMATOES and LETHAL WEAPON, "Bad Seed" is full of laugh-out-loud stuff, most notably a composite artist's sketch of the unusual suspect, which, when revealed, was hysterically received at the screening I attended. Darren Lynn Bousman's, "The Night Billy Raised Hell," also ranks among the films funnier segments, following the titular child, Billy, as he and the devil roam around town pulling pranks, which quickly devolve into carjackings and convenience store robberies. There are some really great scenes in this one, like when Billy's cruising down the highway while the devil's in the back, eating a bucket of chicken and listening to rap music, or when a flaming pumpkin—seemingly a Halloween take on the flaming bag of dog poo, and thus presumably filled with shit—is actually revealed to contain a fucking bear trap. [UPDATE] Clint Sears, screenwriter of "The Night Billy Raised Hell," has just informed me that, "the bear trap is, in fact, loaded with a bag of poo," elevating this already fantastic segment to a whole new level of artistry.

Other segments are genuinely hair-raising, like Axelle Carolyn's, "Grim Grinning Ghost," which builds to a single, perfectly executed jump scare; the sound of a hundred people simultaneously shitting themselves heralding the arrival of a tremendous new talent. The segment also features everyone's favorite paranormal investigator—OK, 2nd favorite after Bill Murray—Lin Shaye, from the INSIDIOUS series. Stuart Gordon's in there, too, for all of you with a keen eye for cameos (I'll admit that I had to look that one up). Dave Parker's, "Sweet Tooth," is also pretty unsettling, and plays like those early 2000s horror flicks centered around storied humanoid creatures, like JEEPERS CREEPERS, DARKNESS FALLS, and BOOGEYMAN. As in many of those movies, though, the legend proves to be creepier than the creature itself, and Sweet Tooth's reveal will likely feel a little anticlimactic for seasoned horror vets.

One of my favorite segments is "The Weak and the Wicked," from Paul Solet, director of the criminally underrated GRACE. It may have the least to do with Halloween, but Solet nails the look and feel of a Sergio Leone western by employing the director's trademarked techniques, like alternating between extreme close-ups of steely gazes and long shots of a group of thugs staring down a lone hero. This, coupled with an interesting supernatural element, make for a really cool short that I'd actually like to see expanded into something more. Plus, it'll satisfy those of you yearning for another good horror western, because let's face it, GALLOWWALKERS was pretty terrible (here's hoping BONE TOMAHAWK is better).

The four remaining segments are all good, if slightly less so than the ones that I already mentioned. Adam Gierasch's, "Trick," reminded me a lot of ILS, the French horror movie about the murderous kids, because of, well, all the murderous kids. There's a surprising twist at the end that serves as a haphazard explanation for why a bunch of ten-year-olds are stabbing people to death, but it's sort of dumb, and the segment might have been better off if, like ILS, the kids' motivations were left unclear, and we just had to chalk it up to violent video games or something. Ryan Schifrin's, "The Ransom of Rusty Rex," is interesting, and features a great and, sadly, final performance from Ben Woolf, who played the dancing ghost kid in INSIDIOUS—you know, the one who made you piss yourself and hate that fucking "Tiptoe Through the Tulips" song. This time Woolf plays a weird demon that two bumbling criminals abduct, mistakenly believing it to be the son of a rich guy, played by rich guy, and director of ANIMAL HOUSE, BLUES BROTHERS, and AN AMERICAN WEREWOLF IN LONDON, John Landis. "Ding Dong" comes to us from Lucky McKee, who directed one of my all-time favorite horror movies, THE WOODS. Like THE WOODS, "Ding Dong" is a sort of dark, modern fairy tale, using the story of Hansel and Gretel to deliver a heavy-handed message about spousal abuse. It's a bit of a mess, but I applaud McKee for trying to do something different. There are some creepy visuals in the segment, too, like when the husband looks at his wife and sees an outward manifestation of the ugliness inside her.

Finally, there's John Skipp and Andrew Kasch's, "This Means War," which is basically a Halloween version of DECK THE HALLS, that crappy Christmas movie where Matthew Broderick and Danny DeVito take turns slipping on ice and accidentally setting their Christmas trees on fire. I enjoyed this one because it reminded me of my Dad, who's constantly trying to improve upon his already kid-repelling Halloween display. It's timely, too; I was just reading about a guy in the States who had these fucked up decorations on his front lawn, but was pressured into taking them down by angry parents whose kids thought they were real. I'm all for Halloween decorating, and usually I'd say the more disturbing, the better, but this guy lived right near the local elementary school and had a realistic-looking fake child's corpse impaled on pike... Anyway, in the segment, a guy with a pretty tame, but classic, William Castle-esque display (spooky tree cutouts, tombstones, cobwebs, skeletons) takes pride in the fact that for the last twenty years, his house has been the best-decorated on his street. Unfortunately for him, his neighbor decides to do his own display, favoring the Rob Zombie approach (girls, gore, lurid lighting, metal music). It's a good satirical representation of the old school vs. new school debate among Halloween-lovers, and among horror fans, who seem to be divided into two camps: those who prefer subtle, mood-intensive horror that makes your skin crawl, and those who prefer loud, blood-soaked gore fests that make your stomach turn. The segment sends a clear message that horror fans' squabbling is stupid, and that there's room for both styles—the best horror movies often wedding the two. 

On the whole, TALES OF HALLOWEEN does just that, its segments falling all along the spectrum. The film is sure to garner a cult following and become a Halloween classic alongside TRICK 'R TREAT, and rightfully so. While it may lack TRICK 'R TREAT's cohesiveness, consistency and flow, TALES OF HALLOWEEN is a film bursting with creativity, and a comfortable assurance that the future of horror is in good hands; that so many genre icons appear in the film, many of whom have all but retired, seems to be their way of blessing this new wave of horror directors. It also pays Halloween the reverence it deserves, while still lovingly lampooning some of its sillier aspects. Most importantly, though, it's fun. If I wasn't laughing because I'd just involuntarily let slip a "HOLY FUCK," I was laughing because most of segments feature pointedly witty dialogue and/or laughably absurd scenarios, like a loose cannon cop (one fuck-up away from being busted down to Vice so fast that it'll make her head spin!) pursuing a murderous jack-o'-lantern. The film received a pretty limited release, but like a house that gives out full-size candy bars, a theatre screening TALES OF HALLOWEEN is worth seeking out this October.