The best legacy sequels concern themselves with the weight of the decades that have passed and the long-term effects of the events separated by the gulf of time between entries. While these stories occur across the wide spectrum of entertainment, the horror genre is uniquely positioned to explore such follow ups. After all, just as years affect a life, so too does the horrors of one blood-soaked Halloween night.

Long before Halloween (2018) brought Jamie Lee Curtis back into the fold as Laurie Strode in an effort to explore her deeply repressed trauma, Halloween H20 (1998) set out to accomplish just that. Itself twenty years removed from John Carpenter’s original Halloween (1978), Halloween H20 is one of the most successful films of its kind and a high point for the franchise, providing emotional depth and a satisfying conclusion to Laurie Strode’s narrative. It may have hit theaters in early August, but its chilly, fall atmosphere is undeniable, emerging as the perfect slasher pallet setter as the seasons change and October approaches.

Halloween H20 began life as a direct-to-video sequel to Halloween 6: The Curse of Michael Myers (1995). At the time, a cloud of fatigue had settled around the Halloween franchise. While Halloween 6 had performed favorably at the box office, it had been a troubled production that led to a convoluted and murky narrative spanning multiple cuts of the film that left fans and casual viewers alike scratching their heads. Somewhere along the line, the simple days of the Shape stalking its prey had given way to psychic connections and celestial curses, causing producers to seek a fresh start.

At the same time, Jamie Lee Curtis was reflecting on her role in Halloween, marinating on the past twenty years and growing ever more interested in seeing the repercussions of the first film’s events play out in almost real time. She contacted director John Carpenter and producer Debra Hill, hoping to gain their involvement, ready to finally return to the role that first introduced her to the big screen.

As production loomed closer, Carpenter and Hill dropped out and experienced genre director Steve Miner stepped in. Screenwriter Robert Zappia had already been hired to write Halloween 7 when Jamie Lee Curtis came on board. His original script about an all girls prep school and a Michael Myers copycat killer was reworked into Halloween H20, with Scream (1996) scribe Kevin Williamson brought in for rewrites. Jamie Lee Curtis’ only demand was that the film end with the destruction of Michael Myers, that Laurie Strode’s conclusion would arrive with the catharsis of finally facing and defeating her trauma in the literal form of the white masked Shape.

At the last moment, however, the creative team was informed that, by contract, Michael Myers could not be killed. The producers insisted that the evil live on so that it might live to stalk future sequels. A deal-breaker for Jamie Lee Curtis, the production almost came to a screeching halt before the creators and the producers finally agreed on an ending that satisfied both fronts. Laurie would believe she was killing and defeating Michael, even if a subsequent entry claimed she hadn’t. While she was obligated to cameo in a sequel, Jamie Lee Curtis was satisfied in knowing that Halloween H20 would serve as a true ending in her eyes and, hopefully, the viewer’s.

With cinematography by Daryn Okada (Phantasm 2 (1988)) and Steve Miner’s focused vision, Halloween H20 embodies a classical feel. From its opening moments, the film appears to work side by side with the first two installments in the franchise, evoking the taut simplicity of the series’ hallowed roots.

The quaint suburban streets that line its opening moments seem to almost be hiding under the shade of its overbearing trees as the people there lead public but private existences, crafting the perfect, familiar place to reintroduce Nancy Stephens as nurse Marion Chambers. Providing thoughtful connective tissue between entries, Stephens’ reserved performance juxtaposes well against the stereotypical cold open of a modern day slasher flick, offering something for both newcomers and returning devotees to latch onto right away.

As the opening credits begin and John Ottman’s orchestral version of John Carpenter’s original iconic theme resounds over newspaper clippings, drawings of Myers and a newly recorded Dr. Loomis voiceover by the talented Tom Kane, the movie envelopes the viewer into all things Halloween. Accomplished editor Patrick Lussier builds this sequence as he does the film: with care, attention to detail and a dedication to unflinching atmosphere.

The story finds Laurie Strode as the headmistress of Hillcrest Academy, operating under the pseudonym Keri Tate. Despite the presence of her teenage son John, played with the proper amount of youthful angst and mischievousness by Josh Hartnett, and her romantic relationship with the school’s guidance counselor Will, eloquently portrayed by Adam Arkin, she suffers from night terrors and crippling anxiety. The damage that was inflicted upon her as a high schooler has only hardened and seeped ever deeper into her soul, resulting in self-medication and an inability to trust in any foreseeable future.

Jamie Lee Curtis brings pathos to the role that can only come from decades of life lived, applying a deep emotionality and sense of forced control to the character’s actions that elevates every second that she’s featured onscreen. From small, distracted looks as she falls into Will’s embrace to hastily gulping down wine while her partner visits the restroom so she might secretly imbibe just one more glass, Laurie’s hidden pain is made visible for the viewer to witness and feel.

The film moves at a speedy pace, guided by Steve Miner’s watchful hand, employing careful measures to invoke fear, scares and its consistent level of ever mounting tension. He emulates the sense of being watched that Carpenter’s original exuded so strongly, placing Myers’ visage into reflections and moving him in and out of peripheral shots and glances as Laurie attempts to navigate the day to day life of someone who sees her abuser everywhere she goes.

The school is quickly emptied out due to an annual Halloween camping trip to Yosemite, leaving behind John and three of his companions: his girlfriend Molly, in an impressive turn by Michelle Williams, and his friends Charlie and Sarah, played respectively by Adam Hann-Byrd and Jodi Lyn O’Keefe. The group sets to work hosting a secret Halloween party in the school, gathering food, decor and liquor. The backdrop of the exodus of excited students from their place of learning and the empty stretches of the school left in their wake evokes a sense of summer amidst the fall foliage, allowing the film to operate as a seasonal bridge of a slasher flick unique amongst its franchise number.

Filling out the cast is LL Cool J’s Ronny Jones, a quirky guard who tends to a gatehouse at the school’s main entryway. Spending his free time on his budding romance novel career, Ronny is one of the more memorable supporting characters in a slasher movie this side of the 1980’s, offering both levity and someone to root for when Michael Myers comes to call. As if that weren’t enough, the film also brings in Jamie Lee Curtis’ mother Janet Leigh in a cameo performance as Keri Tate’s secretary, equipping her with the same vehicle and musical stinger that she had in Psycho (1960).

Myers’ attacks on the school begin as Laurie finally reveals her true identity to her lover Will. Instead of immediately focusing on the raucous attacks that Myers will assuredly usher forth on the unsuspecting teenagers, the film spends time on Laurie’s confession. She reveals herself in a show of vulnerability uncharacteristic of the Laurie we’ve gotten to be reacquainted with, providing her the chance to speak her truth, own her trauma and take a step forward in finally putting it to some kind of rest.

The death scenes and kills are handled with practicality and simplicity, rarely relying on anything but a little blood, precision staging and performance to sell the impact. Scenes of Charlie sticking his hand into a garbage disposal and an unnamed mother opening a dark doorway to a deserted rest stop play with viewer expectations but rarely deliver the horrors they imply. Instead, the scenes carry through to an unexpected moment of terror that surprises rather than delivers the conventional, creating opportunities for standout set pieces in place of unyielding jump scares— although there are plenty of those too.

Still, the film is not without the grotesque trappings of its infamous genre. Sarah’s death shocks and disturbs, with her leg being crushed and nearly severed by a falling dumbwaiter. Later, her body is discovered hoisted up and attached to a ceiling light in a ritualistic fashion only Michael Myers would think to display.

The biggest distraction with the practical look of the film comes in the way of Michael Myers’ mask. A contentious issue during production, four masks appear on screen during the course of the film. From the original KNB mask that was created for the film to a mask by John Carl Buechler molded from the Halloween 6: The Curse of Michael Myers design, there are sequences where the mask changes from shot to shot. Even a CGI created mask appears in one unfortunate scene. The final incarnation was a mask designed by none other than Stan Winston and can be seen throughout most of the film due to studio mandated reshoots, but even this mask is often criticized for making Myers’ eyes clearly visible, his face too thin and his hair too messy.

It wasn’t just the mask that the various creators involved disagreed on, but the score as well. John Ottman’s original score was large, orchestrated and seemed designed for a different film. While some of the music was able to be salvaged for the final picture (the opening credits sequence, for example), much of the movie was rescored by composer Marco Beltrami in an effort to be less elaborate and more complimentary to the happenings on screen.

The climax of the film unfolds quickly. After a brilliant moment of pure tension where John and Molly find themselves caught between two gates as Myers slashes at them while they fumble with their keys, Laurie and Michael come face to face for the first time by way of a small, circular window. Terror, pain and acceptance actualize on Laurie’s face and the film begins its tread toward its inevitable conclusion. Characters are whittled down as Ronny is incapacitated, Will perishes and John and Molly are sent driving down the road for help. Finally all that’s left is Laurie and Michael.

Isolated in the grounds of the school, Laurie grabs an axe and makes her way up the drive, shouting for Michael; hollering into the Halloween night’s starlit sky for the one who has haunted her for the past twenty years. No longer a victim, Laurie is on the prowl. The line between predator and prey is gone.

This entire sequence, from the way it is staged, shot and lit to the manner in which Jamie Lee Curtis carries it out, is not only one of the best in the whole of the Halloween franchise, but one of the best in slasher history. It’s a moment that is served by the distance of time that has passed since the 1978 original and a testament to how and why legacy sequels should work.

What ensues is a relentless battle between Laurie and Michael that transcends their physical interactions. A reckoning of the damage that Michael has inflicted on Laurie’s world and her stance that he will no longer be a specter haunting her every conscious and unconscious moment. The staging and composition of scares and action remains impressive, as Michael slowly lowers himself from a pipe against the ceiling and eventually flips table after table in a dining hall while searching for Laurie. Even after she defeats him and his demise is fortified by the authorities, she still cannot rest. She must ensure that her demon is destroyed. She must reclaim her life.

The story concludes with a bombastic battle involving an upturned ambulance, an axe and the beheading of Michael Myers. In the film’s final moments, Laurie looks down upon the man who has so relentlessly damaged her body, her mind and her world. She observes as he reaches out to her, even reaching back, considering his lost humanity. Her emotions run free and wild before hardening once more and she swings her weapon down, ridding herself of her monster so that she might finally begin to heal.

Halloween H20 released to financial success and was regarded by many as being one of the best sequels the franchise had generated up to that point. Viewed as both a cathartic way of returning to her first big screen role and a “thank you” to those genre lovers who were there when Jamie Lee Curtis’ impressive career first began, the film is elevated by an astounding performance from one of the screen’s most talented players. Regardless of what followed, H20 offered a conclusion to the legacy of John Carpenter’s seminal classic and a fascinating examination of the lifelong effects that such onscreen atrocities might have were they explored beyond the confines of any given slasher film’s runtime.

In the years that have passed since Halloween H20, many films have attempted to emulate its lofty aims. More than once even the Halloween series has sought to uncover the results of festering trauma with Rob Zombie’s Halloween 2 (2009) and David Gordon Green’s own Halloween trilogy that began in 2018. The legacy sequel has evolved from franchise anomaly to IP rite of passage, inspiring sequels, remakes, spin-offs and reinvigorating abandoned properties just as they did when Halloween H20 was in production, the cycle forever feeding into itself. For, as the success of Halloween (2018) inspired Scream (2022), so did the success of Scream and its initial interrogation of the slasher subgenre once pave the way for Halloween H20.

A lifetime passed between Halloween and Halloween H20. An entire generation. Then another twenty years between H20 and 2018’s Halloween. There’s a desire to look back while looking forward when it comes to ourselves and the things we love. Nostalgia culture, legacy sequels, in-canon reboots— call it what you like. Some work, others don’t. What’s consistent amongst the ones that do is a willingness to acknowledge, own and grow, to build off of the events of the past and find conclusiveness in facing that legacy head on and putting it to bed. In some ways, the best of these are the antithesis of such continuations, concluding a story rather than opening a door to endless more entries.

Halloween H20 was a pioneer in that respect. Its interest and aim was not in the future of the franchise, rather in reflecting on what the legacy of that franchise had become and what it still could be. A perfect blast of autumnal atmosphere released in the thick of summer, transitioning the lush brightness of a hot August day to the crisp cool air of a shady October night, Halloween H20 accomplished what it set out to and set the stage for what a legacy sequel could and should be, not just for the franchise, but for the genre.