Halloween (2018)

Director David Gordon Green understands that we shouldn't try to understand Michael Myers (commit this to memory, Rob Zombie). Rather, he forces the audience to observe and interpret Myers' straightforward actions through unsettling one-shots and moments of sustained suspense. He seemingly only dedicates his brain processing power to effective killing, a man more Predator than any Predator from this year's The Predator. Such emotionless-yet-calculating behaviour was scary back in 1978 and it's still scary today.

Of course, he can't be Michael Myers without his ninja-level sneaking skills. It still seems silly that a 2-meter-tall man could make less noise than A Quiet Place, though the film's consistently casual sense of humour makes it easier to swallow. A babysitter's candid discussion about weed with the child she's looking after will get crowds chuckling.

Really though, it's Jamie Lee Curtis who makes Halloween a standout. Her return as Laurie Strode comes with the character's trauma carried throughout the decades. Riddled with anger, fear, sorrow, resentment, and anticipation, Curtis swirls a complex range of emotions that brings rise to one hell of a performance. Laurie is a paranoid victim, a flawed mother, a loving grandmother, but above all else, an endearing hero. These heavy, well-examined qualities give significant depth to a simple story and anchors one of the more memorable climaxes in modern horror.Hide