Halloween: Resurrection Rantview

Halloween: Resurrection Review

Hello, folks this Is the Samurai Dynamo with his Fetid Review reviewing a fetid pile of shit excuse for a movie. What’s this I will review, you ask? Well if you’re asking this after having fucking CLICKED on my thread link to read this, well you’re a complete cunt-faced moron and, for the sake of mankind, you should not reproduce. By that, I mean we’re reviewing Halloween: Resurrection.

Created as a follow-up to what many would consider a great finale to a classic franchise begat by John Carpenter, Hollywood had decided that they haven’t raped us enough with their hard-on called sequels, and contrived another story. But hey- it was going to be directed by Rick Rosenthal of Halloween 2 (1981) fame, so it can’t be that bad, can it? Dead wrong. This was a piece of shit. A stinking piece of shit like nothing’s ever seen. This was especially made worse by the fact that H20, the previous installment, was actually decent as far as sequels go. Comparing H20 with Halloween: Resurrection is like comparing a finely made cuisine by some master French chef in a restaurant that’s so chic, so expensive, and so smugly, ostentatiously luxurious even your shit feels gold-plated to a plate of mouldy goat testicles covered with shit, which stinks like the deep crevasse of the fat folds of some morbidly obese average American teenage girl, who couldn’t clean the lipid cracks because she’s too fucking fat and lazy to, thus forming an incubator to the butyric acid-producing bacteria. It’s that bad. But hey, if you don’t think it’s that bad, knock yourself out and watch the rank failed abortion and decide for yourself.

Starring the oh-so famous names such as Katie Sackhoff, Bianca Kajlich, Tyra Banks and Busta Rhymes (I’m not making this up. I swear.) as well as some really bone-headed decision by Jamie Lee Curtis to touch this movie, it’s just a pile of shit from the get-go. Especially with Jamie Lee Curtis, who’s otherwise a great actress, since somebody like her should have noticed what a piledrive of a rape this movie is from the get-go.

The film begins with a traumatized, mentally disturbed Laurie Strodes in the loony bin. We have a quick montage/narration with the usual medley of “multi-racial” hospital staff comprised of fat black women who look like they’re an inch away from being a walking stereotype and a clueless hot white trainee nurse who, despite living in the fucking town conveniently has NO clue about the get-downs of the town. Apparently, Michael escaped in an unseen scene in H20 where he crushes the throat of a paramedic, dresses him up as Michael, and puts him in the body bag instead. How he does this, or how he picked the guy stupid enough to not pull off the fucking mask in the van as he woke up, I don’t know. But, for the sake of this drivel, sure. I’ll take it. Of course, the nurse comes to Laurie’s “room” in the psychiatric ward, seeing her completely stoned out of her mind. They feed her their Magical Capsule of Unknown Medicines, chatter some more while giving her affected “concerned” looks, and head out. Of course, THIS IS ALL A RUSE! She pulls out her doll (clever, I’ll admit- it’s the same doll as from the first Halloween), which is found to be filled with the meds. She looks out the window, and sees Michael standing there creepily, and rather pointlessly. I mean, it makes for a cool shot (OK not really. I know. It does look ridiculous) but does NOBODY ELSE NOTICE A KNIFE-WIELDING, MASK WEARING DUDE STANDING IN PLAIN SIGHT? I digress. They have a chase, with Michael doing Arnold-like stuff (breaking through the door with bare strength, not in any cool way but in that goofy Arnold way where it only works with Arnold). Then… he gets an afro. I’m not joking. His hair just stands up and become Jim Brown with whiteface for the rest of the chase. Laurie does her clever Home Alone trap. Michael out-does her and FINALLY manages to kill her…

15 minutes into the movie. That concludes the portion of the movie that is watchable.
You know what- I’m not even going to get into detail with the rest of the movie because it’s a fucking joke. I don’t even mean that in my lame caustic way, but it SERIOUSLY sounds like some ridiculous “water-cooler” joke situation over at Dimensions.

Dimensions Exec #1: Okay.. okay… How’s this for a ridiculous idea? You take Halloween… shoot it with webcam… and then have some rapper with his bitch in it. Doing Kung fu.

Dimensions Exec #2: Oh shit I came. Hand me a cigar.

Moustapha Akkad: It’s hip! It’s urbane, and it’s technologically up-to-date!

By the time they realize Moustapha wasn’t joking, it’s too late. I mean- seriously. What the fuck was up with the rest of the movie? Busta Rhymes… doing kung fu… on Michael Myers? Was this some sort of a fucked up Ad Libs game? Jesus Christ. NOTHING about that remotely made sense. Of course we had our slew of teenagers who we didn’t give a shit about- actually that’s a lie. We did, because they were fucking annoying, and we couldn’t wait to watch them die. Every “false scare” scene, it was tantamount to watching porn without money shot because they didn’t die fast enough.

There was also this side-story interspersed within it of some “cyber-dating” between the main protagonist who I can’t bother remembering the name of, and some kid who looked like the grown up version of the kid from the Last Action Hero, which was completely contrived, and just blew too much even for me to even describe or narrate.

On the plus side, I must admit Brad Loree did a great job as Michael Myers. He moved pretty menacingly, even with his afro. Still couldn’t save the movie. Also, the movie had some nice colors/cinematography. The theme variation wasn’t too bad. Still, all of it felt slick like a typical early 2000s MTV style movies.

In conclusion, I hate this movie. It was fucking random, vapid, and completely devoid of anything that made the franchise good. If Halloween was getting a blowjob from a really really really hot chick, this was like getting head from a 90 year old shriveled, diseased and possibly coked up and psychotic rural Russian hooker.

BRAVO, my friend!