Editorials
Looking Back On Four Decades of Michael Myers’ Many Masks
This October brings the iconic mask of Michael Myers full circle, as Oscar-winning effects artist Christopher Nelson meticulously designed the new mask to look like the original 1978 mask aged over 40 years. The withered, deteriorated look of the new mask is effectively creepy and simultaneously invokes the nostalgia of the 1978 classic. While the original mask was a simple retooling of a William Shatner’s Captain Kirk mask, chosen for its lack of distinguishable facial features, the sequels that followed tinkered with the concept over and over, and mostly with weird results.
Spanning forty years, six sequels, and Rob Zombie’s two remake iterations of the icon, the mask of Michael Myers was in a constant state of change. In celebration of Halloween’s 40th anniversary and in anticipation of David Gordon Green’s Halloween, we look back at the many faces of The Shape.
Halloween (1978)
If we’re looking back at the many faces of Michael Myers, then it’s only appropriate to begin with the very first: the clown mask worn by a murderous Michael Myers, as a kid. But for the grown version of Myers, John Carpenter gave production designer Tommy Lee Wallace the instruction that the mask must be simple. Wallace rounded up four masks, one of which was Don Post’s Emmet Kelley sad clown face mask with red frizzy hair added to it. This one was an appropriate callback to the opening scene, but ultimately Wallace adhered to Carpenter’s wishes for the plainest option: William Shatner’s Captain Kirk mask. The eyebrows and sideburns were removed, the eyes cut open more, the hair teased, and the face painted matte white. And thus a horror icon was born. In the film, Michael Myers steals this mask from the hardware store after his escape from Smith’s Grove Sanitarium.
Halloween II
Surprise, this is the same mask from the original film. It aged a bit in the few years between films; Debra Hill kept the mask under her bed and her heavy chain smoking yellowed the mask a bit. The original actor of The Shape, Nick Castle, also was known to have stuffed the mask in his back pocket when not filming during the original production. In Halloween II, Dick Warlock took over the role. Considering he was shorter and stockier than Castle, he filled out the mask differently. So while it appears to be a different mask on screen, it’s one and the same.
Halloween 4: The Return of Michael Myers
Michael Myers was resurrected from retirement after Halloween III: Season of the Witch failed to resonate with fans. While this is one of the more fun sequels in terms of mythology and story, it, unfortunately, boasts some of the worst masks in the franchise. That’s correct; masks. The crew had to start anew with the mask, as Warlock took possession of the original after Halloween II production ended. They tried to recreate the look, with not so great results. The eye holes were smaller, the eyebrows thicker, and the mask’s expression incredibly odd. The “hero mask” was the main mask used during production; however, reshoots meant that two additional masks were used. The most glaringly noticeable is the mask that features a blond Michael Myers (a throwback to Ben Tramer’s mask, perhaps?). The second, seen in the scene where Michael Myers kills the sheriff’s daughter, features a mask that resembles the original a little better. Not much, though. The inconsistent masks and the weird design of them meant this sequel ranks among fans’ least favorite iteration of Myers.
Halloween 5: The Revenge of Michael Myers
In terms of story, this mask is supposed to be the same as the previous film. It’s clearly not. It’s also in the running for worst mask of the franchise. Director Dominique Otherin-Girard wanted to humanize Michael Myers, opting for a human interpretation of evil. An odd choice, considering that a large part of what makes Michael Myers feel like a true Boogeyman, or even a great white shark, is the emotionless mask. This version makes Michael Myers look angry, and the symmetrical tear-shaped eye holes are just weird.
Halloween 5 also marks a rare instance where Michael Myers wears an entirely different type of mask. In a car scene, Michael Myers kills a jerk teen and steals his mask, dubbed the Brute. He wears it for a very brief period before discarding in favor of his traditional mask.
Halloween: The Curse of Michael Myers
Whether you love or hate the Cult of Thorn mythology introduced in this polarizing sequel, fans generally agree that this iteration of the mask is a major step up from the previous two entries. There’s a more obvious effort to return to the original look from the first two films in this mask’s design. The hair is a bit more wild and disheveled, but that’s okay. At least it’s not blond.
Halloween H20: 20 Years Later
This sequel wins the prize for most masks used in the film. When most of the films had one to two main mask used during production, this sequel had 4 or 5. There was a mask recast from the mask used in The Curse of Michael Myers, a mask designed and created by KNB FX, a Stan Winston company designed mask brought in for reshoots, and the embarrassing CGI mask.
Luckily, the CGI mask was used in only one scene of the film, and Winston’s version is the one seen in most of the film. H20 wins for having the worst mask continuity of the series, with Michael Myers’ look fluctuating throughout, but there’s some good mask work to be found within.
Halloween: Resurrection
On the one hand, this mask clearly hearkens back to the original. But on the other, this mask looks like Michael Myers might have taken to applying makeup. The design is similar to the 1978 iteration, but it looks like someone applied contouring and eyeliner to really play up Michael’s features. But hey, it’s still a step up from the masks in part 4 and 5.
Rob Zombie’s Halloween
As divisive as Rob Zombie’s remake is, the mask is universally loved. Though there are clear departures in narrative, this iteration of the mask feels very in line with the original. In this remake, Michael Myers obtains this mask right away, taking it from his sister’s boyfriend and wearing it while he murders her. When he retrieves it 15 years later from beneath the floorboards, it’s damaged and dingy in an effective way. This iteration of Michael Myers also had a penchant for making his own paper mache masks during his stay at the mental hospital.
Rob Zombie’s Halloween II
This mask’s design is a continuation from the previous film, showing even more wear and tear. It’s decayed, blood covered, shredded, and torn. Sounds great in theory, but it winds up revealing far too much of the human behind the mask. Considering the whole point of a mask is to hide the face wearing it, and that the mask is a big part of what makes Michael Myers so unnerving, you can bet this one wasn’t popular with fans.
College kids, strippers and vampires—those were Donald P. Borchers’ only requirements when he approached Richard Wenk about writing and directing a movie for New World Pictures. As requested, Wenk cooked up Vamp (1986), a tailor-made blend of the decade’s teen movie craze as well as its horror boom.
Grim and earnest stories were still very much a part of the ’80s horror landscape, yet Vamp is something of a comedy. One difference between it and, say, Saturday the 14th, though, is the former avoids using schtick. Wenk’s movie proves that horror comedies also don’t have to subtract thrills from their recipes. Of course, it takes a minute before reaching that point; college antics and culture shocks preface this one macabre misadventure.
Vamp‘s initial setup is apt for a typical college-set, sex-driven comedy; to bribe their way into a fraternity house, two pledges (Chris Makepeace, Robert Rusler) go looking for some adult entertainment. Without wasting time on any further exposition, the characters embark on an all-in-one-night trip that quickly detours into terror.
To procure their elusive MacGuffin—a stripper willing to gyrate for some frat boys—Keith (Makepeace) and AJ (Rusler), plus a third wheel named Duncan (Gedee Watanabe), trade the safety of their remote college campus for the seediness of some unnamed city. The setting is recognizably L.A. by day, but as soon as night falls, downtown, along with the characters, slips into a kind of surreal universe. Director of photography Elliot Davis gave this early entry on his prolific résumé an unusual yet distinctive look; that Mario Bava-esque, magenta-green lighting is omnipresent, so much so that it’s almost its own character.
Chris Makepeace and Robert Rusler in Vamp
The faint comparisons to Martin Scorsese’s After Hours are merited, although not just because of Vamp’s distinguishing nighttime aesthetic. Save for the primary characters, the supporting roles in Wenk’s movie are also quite colorful and transactional in their behavior. The difference here, though, is the additional urge to ruin Keith and his friends at every turn. Some of that harm is humorous and tolerable enough, whereas the moment Vamp dishes out its first fatality, it’s abundantly clear how this movie qualifies as horror.
Vamp falls into that category of horror movie that reveals its genre with a scream rather than a series of whispers. The opening scene can function as a hint of what lies ahead—things are not at all what they appear to be—but otherwise, Wenk is more than happy to hold off on the horror. When that time does come, though, it catches the viewer off guard. In addition to the pure shock value is that sudden decision to upend the movie’s foremost feature. Or so it would seem.
If afraid of major spoilage, those new to Vamp would be wise to stop reading here. There’s just no skirting around the fact that the central fellowship in this buddy movie hits a serious snag when AJ is killed. That development causes the story to become more of a “long, bad night” journey for Keith and his romantic interest. So while Wenk scores points for subverting expectations, there is also a touch of sadness in his decision. Because if Vamp does anything well, it’s making the characters likable.
Something that comes easily to Vamp—and other teen horror movies from this same era—is its ability to invent young characters worth caring about, or at the very least, are interesting and not so immediately off-putting. More impressive is how Wenk did all this without actually fleshing out those characters. Still and all, Keith and his kind are a grade above cookie-cutter, and in some cases, aren’t completely devoid of growth.
Grace Jones in Vamp
Vamp appeals with an assorted cast of characters. No two are the same, nor are they operating on the same wavelength. The cinematically extroverted AJ, whose actor conveyed charm and vulnerability in near equal amounts, comes alive when he’s at his most undead. Makepeace then makes the chronically cautious Keith a sympathetic fellow, even as he’s more and more affected by the night’s bizarre events. Meanwhile, Duncan is indeed the designated loser of the whole bunch, but Watanabe still manages to humanize him. As a bonus, the role didn’t require him to pull a Long Duk Dong.
As for Dedee Pfeiffer, she is plain adorable as the mysterious After Dark server nicknamed “Amaretto”. She spends all night fixing her dress strap while at the same time trying to get Keith to remember how he knows her. As their offbeat romance grows, it becomes another highlight of this movie. Whether or not Pfeiffer’s character is really a vampire also creates some welcome tension in the story.
Like a lot of its contemporaries, Vamp went on to become a bit of a cult classic. That current status is determined by several factors, but without a doubt, the casting of Grace Jones is the most considerable. The image of her writhing on that unique-looking chair, a Keith Haring original, springs to mind whenever this movie is brought up.
Chris Makepeace, Billy Drago and Paunita Nichols in Vamp
Prior to that first display of unequivocal horror, local vampire queen Katrina (Jones) took to the stage and delivered a strip show like no other. One would expect nothing less from that renowned model and performance artist. By now reports of Jones’ tardiness on set are no secret, yet it’s also hard to deny her commitment to the part of Katrina. It was, in fact, Jones who took charge of her character’s appearance—on top of Haring painting her body and that now-iconic chair, she had Andy Warhol handle her costuming. And not too many actors could seize a room’s attention without saying a single line of dialogue.
In 2022, Vamp received a retrospective novelization from Encyclopocalypse. This literary union of preexisting source material—Wenk’s original screenplay—and new ideas from author Christian Francis amounts to a more comprehensive visit to the After Dark Club. The basic story there is no different than what’s shown on screen; however, Francis gets creative with the characters’ origins and designs, and he enhances a number of key scenes.
The novelization expands on the urban and social decay of the main setting, and supplies a background for the After Dark Club. Sandy Baron’s character, Katrina’s emcee and familiar, is given ample motivation for sticking around; up until the fiery end, he is loyal to his friend and former business partner “Squeak”, who looks like he was “fed through a combine harvester, and left as nothing more than a heap of mangled remains”. Then there is Billy Drago’s character Snow, the leader of a street gang called The Dragons. His reason for menacing Keith and AJ is more altruistic than in the movie; he and his peers act tough to scare off any potential food for the vampires.
Lisa Lyon in Vamp
If not for all the backstories, Francis’ Vamp would be a hell of a lot shorter. Instead, this tie-in read dives into how AJ met Keith—the orphaned Anthony Joseph hailed from a broken home back in Brooklyn—and how their friendship flourished over the years. Keith’s archership is no longer just an assumed part of his entire being; it’s a confidence-building extracurricular for a boy who got picked on before coming into the protection of the new kid in town. These supplemental, in-depth looks at the protagonists, plus their close connection, are maybe unnecessary. The movie already did a fair and concise job of addressing their platonic intimacy without the need for flashbacks and insights, specifically in that scene where AJ lays it all out as he sacrifices himself.
Where the novelization gets off course is its approach to the minor characters. Intermittently backstorying the likes of Katrina’s indentured servants, Seko (Leila Hee Olsen) and Vlad (Brad Logan), ends up disturbing the flow of the writing. Was it absolutely essential that readers know Vlad was the Grand Duke of the House of Romanov, or how Snow’s accomplice Maven (Paunita Nichols) became so dentally challenged? No, not really. However, one’s mileage with these random biographies may vary.
The novelization is a more substantial experience, but for a movie like Vamp, less is more. And as plentiful as they are, it never simply coasts on its campy charms, either. The character work sits comfortably in that realm between cursory and meticulous, the script is sharper than first realized, and Greg Cannom’s vampire makeup is straightforward yet effective. Most of all, the movie didn’t squander its out-of-the-box concept. Richard Wenk made his vision of a “comic nightmare in which just about anything that can go wrong does” come true, and it is very enjoyable.
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