Rob Zombie’s Halloween II is not a great film but it’s an interesting one. Like his first remake of John Carpenter’s original, his sequel stares death in the face with a sick, clinical fascination, only this time death stares the fuck back.
One thing I applaud Zombie for is his willingness to make unpretty scenes. The movie starts with the aftermath of Michael Myer’s legendary killing spree and almost immediately strips the glamour away; the grunt level police officers mumble complaints about having to lug the bodies around and the survivors struggle for a life that may not be worth returning to when they realize just how scarred and crippled they’ve been left by their chance encounter with the devil. Later scenes in the movie reveal a Zombie that wants to know why we find this ugliness entertaining.
He taunts us with home movie footage of an 8 year old Annie just moments after her heartbroken father has come home to find her massacred corpse. In an infamous scene Zombie forgoes witty dialogue for, quite possibly, the longest string of “fuck”s in cinema history. However, the scene isn’t about what the man is saying and it’s not going for a laugh. The only tongue planted in cheek is of the literal variety in the seat adjacent to the expletive-spewing paramedic. This scene is about helplessness in the face of death. The man is fucked. He knows he’s fucked. The human computer has no solution for him, no logical pathway. It has simply stopped mid-action. Michael’s beheading of him is really just the act of a custodian at that point.
In a way that’s all Michael really ever is. As we will discover in the film’s climax, the adult Rock Mountain Man Michael, his childhood self and his deceased mother may or may not actually be a spiritual manifestation of Laurie/Angel’s survivor guilt/repressed emotion ( see: White Horse for details.) They act as a clean up crew for the pain and broken lives left in the wake of her family tragedy. I read the ending as Laurie’s subconcious burning away everything her bloodline stained including her damned self.
The botched Dr. Loomis story, which doesn’t go as far as the superior Natural Born Killers, is too forgiving in its indictments of death culture in the media and seems more like an excuse to give Michael one final flaccid line of dialogue.
That about sums it up.