eliza’s review published on Letterboxd:
Been about two years since I’ve first seen this, and wow. No amount of hyperbolic adjective salad could even begin to describe how much this fucks. Characterizing Michael as the physical embodiment of fate - random, dispassionate, brutal - remains a masterstroke in slasher conceptualizing. Like any good horror film, it preys on our most tragically intrinsic, primal fears — it’s not an understatement to say that Carpenter made an entire generation afraid to be in their own house. To say that “I’d like to make something like this one day” is admittedly a played out proclamation of future filmmakers, but... yeah. This is exactly the kind of thing I’d love to make one day.