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Halloween: Resurrection

Face it: they’ll keep milking this cash cow until its udders dry up. Halloween Resurrection is the eighth in a series that began with John Carpenter’s stylish 1978 original. Jamie Lee Curtis, then twenty, played a baby sitter whose masked maniac of a brother, Michael Myers, kept slashing all her friends, especially the fuck bunnies. (Myers is no relation to the creator of Austin Powers — though, come to think of it, we never have gotten a peek behind that mask.) The last sequel, in 1998, was called Halloween H20: Twenty Years Later. One wonders if Michael, AARP card in hand, will still be making a stab at it in another twenty years.

hile waiting, we have Resurrection to ponder. Busta Rhymes plays a scam artist who dares a group of teens — oversexed, natch — to spend one night in Michael’s old house. He cashes in by Webcasting the event, not knowing that Michael will turn up for his own version of reality TV.

he film’s prologue, featuring Curtis in what looks like her last Halloween gig, gets the adrenaline pumping. But director Rick Rosenthal soon buries everything in the same repetitive tricks. The young cast, who shall go nameless (I’m feeling charitable) merely line up to be gutted. Carpenter never directed another Halloween flick after the first one. Smart man. Every sequel you skip will be two hours gained. Consider this review life-affirming.

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