Editorials
Why Non-Halloween Movie ‘Pumpkinhead’ is the Perfect Halloween Movie
Despite its holiday-appropriate title, Pumpkinhead isn’t themed around Halloween. A Southern Gothic tale of revenge set over what appears to be warm summer months, Pumpkinhead has become requisite Halloween viewing anyway. It’s not hard to see why; despite any overt ties to the holiday, Halloween’s essence is woven into the very fabric of this ’80s gem.
That began with Pumpkinhead’s conception. The story, which sees a man conjure up a vengeance demon after his son’s tragic death, drew inspiration from Ed Justin’s poem, “Pumpkinhead.” Its catchy rhythm and spooky imagery evoke classic mood-setting holiday poems, perfect for sharing around flickering flames in the dark:
Keep away from Pumpkinhead,
Unless you’re tired of living,
His enemies are mostly dead,
He’s mean and unforgiving,
Laugh at him and you’re undone,
But in some dreadful fashion,
Vengeance, he considers fun,
And plans it with a passion,
Time will not erase or blot,
A plot that he has brewing,
It’s when you think that he’s forgot,
He’ll conjure your undoing,
Bolted doors and windows barred,
Guard dogs prowling in the yard,
Won’t protect you in your bed,
Nothing will, from Pumpkinhead.
–Ed Justin
After opening with a scene in 1957 that teases the demon on the hunt for its prey, the film cuts to the present day and spends time establishing the affecting relationship between hard-working single father Ed Harley (Lance Henriksen) and his sweet son Billy (Matthew Hurley). Ed runs and owns a small shop in their rural town and leaves Billy alone with his pup while running an errand. While he’s away, a group of campers that had stopped by the store take their dirt bikes out for a spin nearby. Giving chase to his dog, Billy runs right out in their path, spurning a devastating fatal accident that leaves the city friends shaken to their core and Ed on a wrathful quest for vengeance.
While the campers turn on each other in the aftermath, some desperate to seek the authorities and make amends, and another desperate to cover it all up to hide his insobriety, Ed hires a local to take him to Haggis (Florence Schauffer), an isolated swamp witch. She can’t resurrect Billy, but she can help Ed get retribution.
He just has to retrieve a body from an old cemetery first.
This atmospheric sequence is rife with Halloween imagery and iconography. The vivid oranges insides Haggis’s swamp shack, its critter filled interior befitting of a witch, contrast perfectly with the foggy, cool hues of the graveyard. The graveyard isn’t littered with headstones, but pumpkins and overgrown vines and roots. Ed brings the misshapen body back to Haggis, who uses his and Billy’s blood in a ritual to summon forth the vengeance demon, Pumpkinhead. As the monster sets off to claim the lives of those that wronged Ed, he’s haunted – in the guise of an undead Billy- by the reality of the power he’s just unleashed. “What’d you do, daddy?” Ed breaks down in his truck on the drive back from the swamp.
Aside from the recurring orange and blue aesthetic and the seasonal iconography, Pumpkinhead evokes Halloween through its vigorous enforcement of rules. Sam in Trick’ r Treat may have popularized the holiday’s etiquette to keep restless spirits at bay, but Samhain and Halloween’s ancient customs date back centuries before the cute pop culture icon came along. Feasts for a good harvest, rituals of carving faces in gourds to ward off evil, and old customs of going door to door for treats in exchange for prayers over dead loved ones are among some of the rules that shaped the holiday. Not abiding in those rules can be devilishly catastrophic. That morality plays into horror frequently, and Pumpkinhead is no exception.
Pumpkinhead examines the toll of vengeance. Of the six friends that set out for a weekend getaway at a cabin in the woods, only the driver at the wheel in Billy’s death, Joel (John D’Aquino), feels a worthy target for such monstrous revenge. Even then, his mean spirited, selfish demeanor cracks and exposes the remorse and fear beneath. His friends all show various stages of shock, guilt, and devastation over what happened. None of them truly deserved their fates. That’s something Ed realizes just a hair too late. In the immediate throes of grief, he dabbles in evil arts that he doesn’t understand and bargains his soul away. He lets loose an evil that can’t be contained, and it transforms him, literally, into a monster.

It’s a fable set against a Southern Gothic backdrop, full of witches, ghosts, and pumpkin patches. Pumpkinhead proves you don’t need a picturesque New England style fall setting to create Halloween atmosphere. An eerie earworm poem, unique mythos, a fantastic creature design birthed from a pumpkin, and spooky mood lighting offer up the perfect ingredients to whip up a seasonal spell, even without a single explicit mention of Halloween.
Stan Winston‘s directorial feature debut is the ideal non-Halloween Halloween movie that makes for requisite annual viewing during this, the most spooky time of the year.
Editorials
André Øvredal’s ‘Troll Hunter’ Remains One of the Best Found Footage Movies
In this day and age, the word “troll” is often used to describe various online nuisances. Yet as abundant and irksome as the modern troll can be, they aren’t usually as fearsome as their mythological counterparts. I’m not talking about the small and gentler versions that have become more common to see in media. No, there are much bigger and scarier trolls out there—and André Øvredal’s movie Troll Hunter is one of the best places to find them.
It doesn’t take long for Troll Hunter (or Trolljegeren) to dump the Blair Witch Project-esque setup and aim for something a lot fresher. The trajectory of the story is augmented by Otto Jespersen’s character Hans, the titular Troll Hunter. The second he comes barreling out of the deep, dark woods and shouts “troll” at the camera, this movie takes a turn into what feels like uncharted territory. Not only subject-wise, but also conceptually.
For fantastical and made-up subject matter in cinema, found footage is a fast way to add a guise of believability. After all, what we accept to be the most crucial aspect of documentaries—the truth—rubs off on pseudo-documentaries, despite our understanding of the pretense involved. That is what Øvredal delivered with Troll Hunter: a movie so convincing that some viewers wondered if trolls really do exist. So, had this been straightforwardly made, it likely wouldn’t have been as effective. Conventional narratives would be more inclined to treat something like trolls as flat out unreal, and never try to convince the audience to think otherwise.

Hans petrifies the three-headed Tusseladd troll.
The viewers, like the characters trailing Hans, are quickly thrown into the deeper end of that extraordinary story. They have to process all this new information while staying on the go. So, although there is no significant amount of meandering, narratively or physically, there is still a good amount of atmosphere, not to mention tension building. It’s never anything frightful, but then again, Troll Hunter isn’t your standard offering of horror; it’s more on the low end of the dark fantasy spectrum. We aren’t ever spirited away to a faraway world—we stay in rather familiar surroundings, as well as dip into those less so. The outcome is a movie where you’re constantly more in awe than in terror.
As fantasy fiction might do, Troll Hunter prefers not to deal with incredulity. There is no time to waste on doubt, as interviewer Thomas (Glenn Erland Tosterud), soundperson Johanna (Johanna Mørck), and cameraman Kalle (Tomas Alf Larsen) all follow Hans around, recording whatever this character is willing to reveal about his bizarre job. Of course, the Troll Hunter himself is not an open book; in that respect, the diegetic documentary fails to fully capture and unpack the more interesting of its two subjects. Yes, all those giant, monstrous trolls are indeed incredible, but understandably, your mind wanders to their pursuer. What kind of person signs up for this gig and then chooses to stick with it for so long?
Reviews have called out Troll Hunter for its lack of character development. In regard to Thomas and his fellow documentarians, that criticism is valid, but bear in mind, they aren’t the focus of the story, either. Meanwhile, Hans is a well-crafted character. At least better than first realized. Before he was introduced, Hans had already grown tired of the troll grind. Fed up with that low compensation for his services, resentful of the bureaucracy, and wanting to expose his employer on a large scale, Hans’ discontent is glaring.
Then there are those finer details about the Troll Hunter, such as that indifference to both the natural splendor of his everyday surroundings and the affections of an obviously smitten colleague, that also suggest some level of despondency. So it is fair to say this movie doesn’t feature any sizable growth for its characters; however, the namesake isn’t underwritten. No doubt, putting a real-life character like Otto Jespersen in that role is partly why Hans is so fascinating—maybe even relatable.

Otto Jespersen as Hans the Troll Hunter.
There is always a small risk whenever using the term “mockumentary” to describe a found-footage movie, as the word could imply humor where there is none. In the case of Troll Hunter, the term’s usage is appropriate. Some folks have claimed the English-dubbed version has the more comedic tone, however, the Norwegian cut isn’t exactly humorless. Apart from the trolls’ absurd appearances, this is a movie where the characters nearly choke on the monsters’ farts, and Christians are like walking targets. Hans’ complete apathy towards everything is another cause of laughter. Overall, the comedy is intentionally dry and inconsistent. Unfunny, though? Absolutely not.
In a movie where endemic creatures are maltreated, as well as disavowed from living freely and peacefully, it’s hard not to notice the ecological message buried beneath the story. In addition to that is the unmistakable political satire. There is this whole business about intrusive and unsightly power lines—like trolls, they’re big blemishes on the land—that leads to what is perhaps the movie’s funniest moment. The scene in question is that one where certain electric lines, the ones secretly being used to keep the trolls at bay, go in a loop and don’t actually send power to any residents. Yet the monitors of said lines don’t find this at all weird. So it stands to reason that Øvredal was having a go at those who accept the government’s doings without question.
Looking past the fact that trolls aren’t actually real, this movie is an enlightening source of information. And not just for international audiences; Norwegians, too, get schooled about their homeland’s own mythology. It’s also evident from everything on screen that Øvredal and his crew were enthusiastic about the topic. The creature designs are the most indicative of that zeal; those imaginative yet myth-accurate manifestations are equally amusing and grotesque. One second you’re laughing at their phallic noses, the next you’re white-knuckling during a hairy sequence. Most surprisingly is how well the trolls’ visual effects hold up after fifteen years. It’s not all spotless, but on the whole, they remain impressive.
Vouching for a mockumentary about trolls isn’t easy, but those who do come around and give it a shot will more than likely be grateful for the recommendation. For Troll Hunter is a real find in that vast and varied genre we call “found footage“.

A bridge troll reaches up for food and finds Hans decked out in armor.





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