While horror movies are indeed the flavor of the Halloween season, genre connoisseurs will tell you that there is a distinct difference between a horror movie and a Halloween movie. While the former category will certainly serve as appropriate cinematic fare in October, the latter, with its inclusion of costumes, candy, jack-o’-lanterns, and a distinct orange hue, brings a seasonal coziness to go along with its cavalcade of ghosts, goblins, and psycho killers. As the nights grow longer, the smell of autumnal rot is fills the air, and the barrier between the realms of the living and the dead grows thin, the Halloween film casts a spell to keep us safe from the creatures of the night by invoking their very presence (hot tea, candles, and a fuzzy robe can be added for additional ghoul protection).
V/H/S/HALLOWEEN is the eighth entry in the decade-plus-long franchise of found footage anthologies that showcase a mix of up-and-coming as well as fully established filmmakers. What started as a novelty project has now become an annual tradition, and it’s one I hope continues for as long as (in)humanly possible. Each entry has some degree of tonal connective tissue, with each short segment adhering to a timeframe (V/H/S/85) or a subgenre (V/H/S/Beyond), and this latest entry is no different. This time around, each of the nasty little short films is a Halloween film, and the sum total is one of the best collections the series has offered up so far.
It’s no secret that I’m sort of obsessed with these movies, but even I’ll admit that each film typically has a weaker entry contained within (although none are outright bad). V/H/S/HALLOWEEN has one of the most consistent hit ratios so far — every segment is a banger. And whereas some of the previous entries stretched the found footage conceit to the point of breaking (I’m still irritated by the aggressive score in Stork, the opening segment of V/H/S/Beyond), this one adheres quite ably to the framing device. For the most part, each segment actually feels like it could feasibly be real footage that has been found. Yes, I’m a stickler for the form. Yes, that’s why I cannot stand the way Abbott Elementary is shot.
The series has moved away from the more classic wraparound segment, which initially tried to tell a story of these “tapes” being found and, in the case of V/H/S: Viral, tried to build a larger mythology around the whole framing device, and has instead chosen for the past few films to simply split up a short into interstitial bits between each story. It’s a smart move, and it allows for a steady pacing and a feeling of cohesion, even if said feeling is essentially artificial. It also takes the pressure off of the “final” segment, which is what so many anthologies are unjustly judged by.
V/H/S/HALLOWEEN features five shorts and one framing narrative:
Diet Phantasma (dir. Bryan Ferguson)
A food laboratory runs tests on its latest product: a soda called Diet Phantasma. It doesn’t go well. Or does it? — The slightest of the stories overall, which makes it a great frame story. It’s insanely gory and darkly funny, and if not for the side-effects, I’d love to try the beverage. I hear it smells bad but it tastes good.
Coochie Coochie Coo (dir. Anna Zlokovic)
Two teenagers want one last trick-or-treating session before heading off to college. Their bold attitudes lead them into a home that no one else seems to notice even exists. — Every V/H/S has a creature feature, and this is one of the grosser ones. Shades of Barbarian, but with a supernatural twist. This one took a second to get going, but provides some of the film’s most upsetting imagery and an ending that crept into my head just as I turned out my lights last night. Gah!
Ut Supra Sic Infra (dir. Paco Plaza)
Cops bring the sole survivor of a Halloween massacre back to the scene in order to piece together what happened — A supernatural shrieker/possession tale that takes pains not to establish any sort of mythology, instead just letting the mystery fuel the horror. It’s fun to watch cops who think they know better get their comeuppance.
Fun Size (dir. Casper Kelly)
A group of trick-or-treaters suffer goopy, cosmic consequences when they fail to obey the “one per person” rule. — Every V/H/S has a zanier entry, so it’s only appropriate for the strange mind behind Too Many Cooks to helm the latest one. It’s the least scary of the bunch, but it’s easily the funniest, utilizing nightmare logic to make even a hardened viewer feel squeamish. I’ve been saying “fun siiiiiiize” for days now. IYKYK.
Kidprint (dir. Alex Ross Perry)
After a spate of child abductions, a video store offers “kidprint” services: child ID films for law enforcement reference in case said child goes missing. Halloween is cancelled as a town lives in fear. — We have a winner. Perry’s deadly serious serial abductor/killer story is fucked up beyond belief. It’s played fully straight, and as such, would be right at home in the annals of true crime/creepypasta media. A spiritual successor to The Poughkeepsie Tapes, and easily one of the best V/H/S shorts in the entire series. The who of the whodunit gives one of the most chilling performances I’ve ever seen.
Home Haunt (dir. Micheline Pitt-Norman & R.H. Norman)
A Halloween-obsessed father puts the finishing touches on his haunted house attraction, despite protestations of his son, who is just old enough to be over it. A last ditch effort to add spooky charm brings unexpected life to the haunted house. — A strong finish to the film that captures the essence of what a Halloween movie should be, while also hearkening back to the final segment of the original V/H/S film. It’s a scary entry to be sure, but it’s also the most playful, which is a nice way to cleanse the palate after the extremely heavy preceding short without taking the foot off the gas. It’s also a reminder of why Halloween is so fun, as scary as it may be.
And ne sure to stick around during the credits for a nice little coda.
Directed by Bryan Ferguson, Anna Zlokovic, Paco Plaza, Casper Kelly, Alex Ross Perry, Micheline Pitt-Norman & R.H. Norman
Written by Bryan Ferguson, Anna Zlokovic, Paco Plaza, Casper Kelly, Alex Ross Perry, Micheline Pitt-Norman & R.H. Norman, Alberto Marini
Not rated, 115 minutes
