The Shape, the Sister, and the Art of Murder
This isn’t something I just came up with while stuck in traffic. It’s an idea that’s been simmering for months… that Halloween (1978) didn’t just “stop belonging” to John Carpenter and Debra Hill like any other film does once it’s released. It went further. Somewhere between the script and the screen, it started saying things they might not have even known they were saying.
John Carpenter’s two most renowned films amongst horror fans are arguably, Halloween and The Thing. One is a film that still obeys its maker; the other has grown beyond him. While Carpenter could explain every decision in The Thing and have solid ground to stand on, there’s one thing he may have never realized… he doesn’t have that same control with the first Halloween. He might tell you why he did this or that, but the movie still took on a life of its own. Whether born from subconscious intent or sheer ignorance of what he was conjuring, it’s become its own beast or… its own boogeyman, if you dare.
I’ve always believed Michael sees something in Laurie Strode that reminds him of Judith, the sister he killed when he was six years old. Maybe he even sees something in Tommy Doyle too, some reflection of his own childhood. Maybe not.
But that’s what makes Halloween terrifying: it’s not just a story about a killer stalking teens. It’s about a man chasing the moment of his first kill, the night his soul went still.
The Lonnie Scene and the Shape’s Shadow
It all starts with the Lonnie scene. Everyone remembers that wild little jump scare, the stinger that’s basically audio legend at this point. Michael grabs the kid, lets him go, and then slowly follows Tommy from his car. Tommy’s walking right beside him, totally oblivious.
You could call that movie logic, or you could call it what I think it is: supernatural camouflage. Michael doesn’t just hide; he disappears. Unless you’re wired like Laurie, anxious, and hyper aware, you just don’t see him. He exists in that space between what’s there and what we notice.
And that invisibility? It’s part of the Shape’s power. Remember, this is a kid who, at six years old, stabbed his sister to death with enough force to pierce bone. That’s not just rage, that’s something unnatural.
Fate, Family, and the Key to the House
Here’s something wild I never really thought about until recently: Laurie’s dad sends her to drop the key off at the old Myers house on the anniversary of Judith’s murder.
That’s already unsettling, but if we follow the Halloween II storyline, where Laurie is Michael’s sister, that small errand becomes something cosmic. She’s unknowingly walking back to the scene of her sister’s death, on the anniversary, to literally, leave the key to the door for the brother who killed her. Its fate disguised as a chore.
There’s no way Carpenter or Hill consciously wrote that mythology, but it’s there, and it’s baked right into the film. The killer, the survivor, and the bloodline, all colliding by accident, like destiny on autopilot.
Not to mention the fact that it makes Mr. Strode look like the most sinister dad in the world. “Here, kid… drop this off at the Myers place. You know, the same house where your sister was murdered, on the same anniversary, and while you’re the same exact age she was.”
Damn. Something’s definitely rotten in Denmark if Halloween II is to be taken as canon.
The Grave, the Bed, and the Birth of Myth
Then comes the scene that makes Halloween transcend its creators: Laurie finding her friends dead.
Annie (Nancy Loomis) is laid out beneath Judith Myers’ gravestone. Carpenter and Hill probably just wanted a memorable reveal and a couple of sharp music stingers. But film narrative doesn’t always obey intention.
That tableau isn’t just for shock value , it’s ritual. Michael’s not killing for sport; he’s arranging. Laurie had reminded him of Judith earlier, and now he’s built a shrine to that first murder. Whether Carpenter meant it or not, the film created a myth: Michael Myers as artist, not just murderer.
Laurie: The True Target
Another detail that says everything about how Michael sees Laurie compared to the others, she’s the only female I recall that he tries to kill with the butcher knife.
Annie and Linda die in other ways. But Laurie? She’s the one who gets the blade. It’s the same weapon he used on Judith. It’s personal. It’s sacred. It’s how his story began, and how he wants it to end.
He’s not just trying to kill Laurie; he’s trying to repeat something. To relive it. To recreate the moment that froze him in time when he was six years old.
The Butcher Knife: Michael’s Instrument of Pleasure
Michael’s relationship with the knife borders on ritualistic pleasure. It’s not just a tool, it’s his signature, his connection to that first act.
Watch him with Bob: one clean stab through the chest, pinning him to the wall like a trophy. He cocks his head, admiring the scene. It’s satisfaction, maybe even pride.
He takes pleasure in those kills, but only uses the knife on male victims… until Laurie. That slice across her arm isn’t random. It’s deliberate, a preview of the finale he wants. Michael will kill her however he can, but he wants to do it with the knife. Because that’s how it started.
Every stab is a memory. Every cut is an echo of Judith. The knife is his art and his ritual. And when it finally touches Laurie, it’s the Shape trying to complete the circle.
The Movie That Outran Its Maker
That’s the magic of Halloween. Carpenter and Hill created a simple story about a killer. But the movie, the images, the rhythm, the silence, they all built something larger.
By the time Michael unpins Bob to the wall, arranges his and the rest of the bodies, and steps into the shadows for Laurie, the story has transcended both Carpenter and Hill. The film starts speaking for itself.
And that’s why Halloween endures. It’s not just about fear; it’s about ritual, memory, and the art of death. Carpenter may have written it, but Michael, and the audience, finished it.
Because some movies stop being movies and start becoming myths.
Halloween didn’t just invent a genre; it built a language of fear that filmmakers have been trying to translate ever since.
You can get your copy of Halloween on 4k here.
You can also get the special edition steel book version of Halloween on 4k here.
If you’re interested in any of these movies, you can find them through the links above. Clicking them gives HorrorDork.com a small percentage of your order and it costs you nothing extra, but helps us immensely. Thanks for supporting your local horror nerds!