A Special Performance Profile: Jamie Lee Curtis in Halloween (1978)

Because one of my very favorite holidays is just around the corner, I felt that there couldn't be a better time for this very profile...and it is overdue in many ways. You see my love for all things horrifying, creepy, grotesque, and disturbing in film latched onto me when I was kinda young (hell, I am still very young!) and it fascinated me like it has done for so many others. It's something that I discovered within my growing knowledge of movies that today remains as indelible and intact as it could be for anyone who's a horror junkie. Then along came a very special cinematic "horror" entry. My history and love with this one film continues to grow and expand and I belong to a large group of individuals who find it (along with the whole franchise) to be some seriously awesome stuff. It just so happens that this film's popularity has risen to extreme heights in terms of appeal, and within all of it, a new discovery was made during its casting A young, fresh-faced performer starting out in the shadows of her very famous mom and pop was cast as the lead. Her star continued to grow thereafter, and she won the deservedly awarded title of the "Scream Queen" -- which became a permanent phrase within pop horror culture, all thanks to the legendary, character defining, breakthrough performance given by...

...Jamie Lee Curtis in Halloween (1978)
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Jamie Lee Curtis plays Laurie Strode, a young simple teen living in the beautiful suburbs of Haddonfield, Illinois, who's begins her Halloween day heading off to school and running into Tommy Doyle (Brian Andrews), the little tyke who she plans on babysitting later that night.

Unlike most teenage girls her age, Laurie is most assuredly established as a warm, intelligent, and understanding young woman -- the kind that actually appreciates talking about Halloween plans with the nine-year-old who becomes giddy at the thought of the fun they will have. For her, this is just another day of school, friends, and babysitting (like most teen girls would have as a daily routine) -- a day that just happens to fall on this holiday where pumpkins are lit, decorations are hung, and kids run around in costumes looking for candy. Little does she know that this seemingly standard path will forever be drastically altered on this very day.

It all begins when she's asked by her realtor father to drop off a key at the haunted, spookified Myers House on her way to school. Everyone knows the legend of the brutal murder which took place in that very house fifteen years ago on Halloween night. A young boy stabbed his older sister to death that night, only to be placed away in a sanitarium, and then to escape mear hours before this very moment. Laurie casually places the key under the mat, says her goodbye's to Tommy, then proceeds to school.

As she walks down the sidewalk, singing a little tune to herself, she doesn't notice the dark, ominous figure lurking over her; watching her go from afar. The shape that's in the human form of the personification of evil: Michael Myers.

But then, while taking notes/day dreaming at the back of her classroom, something catches her eye; a pale-faced figure from outside across the street, quietly and motionless stares at Laurie as she uncomfortably glares back until he disappears in a flash. John Carpenter's beautifully haunting staging in this simple scene in this simplistic movie sets the eerie, moody tone for this boldly woven thread in the film's elegantly crafted narrative; setting the stage for deeper, darker waters to come crashing down.

The film and the actress don't so much feed us exact details of who Laurie, but instead use places, situations, and people to craft the character as in the infectious scene(s) when Laurie meets up with her two besties Annie and Lynda (the witty Nancy Loomis and the "totally" awesome P.J. Soles, both giving fresh, vivid performances in roles which most horror characters usually plunge into ridiculous caricatured cliches) as the three gals walk and talk. This sequence (while infused with verve) also begins a visual representation of Laurie's "disconnection" from what's happening around her. Her geeky wardrobe complete with an unflattering sweater/skirt and knee-high cotton socks, compared with her laid back, cool and casually dressed friends marks along with the fact that they date, smoke, and are promiscuous, sets Laurie at a different unidentified level from her BFF's despite the fact that they are all close. They talk of boys, Halloween pranks, chemistry books (well, at least Lynda rambles on about it), and a mysterious station wagon being driven by the unknown Michael Myers.

As her friends blow it off as some frivolous joke, Laurie just somehow knows that something isn't quite right, and it's Curtis who lets us see this from here on out; she quietly conveys the searing flickers of foreboding dread as they instinctually meld with Carpenter's richly drenched atmosphere.

It's quite remarkable, really. Carpenter stages these tense beats between a distanced Laurie and Michael to show how this is a match between them (notice how Annie nor Lynda never really identify this shape or comprehend that he's pure evil) and the others are merely pawns in his sick, twisted game. Michael continually plays mind games with Laurie -- is she really seeing him behind the hedge? Will her friends ever believe her and not consider her some form of an outsider like Michael has become? These psychological conundrums add a subtle, but haunting layer which register's in both the characterization and the overall narrative.

But there's still that something; the lingering feeling in the pit of her stomach which she can't seem to brush off today. Laurie also has her on going deeply etched worries of typical teenagedom

In a sense, both literally and figuratively, Laurie is still a girl whose innocence and sweetness emanate with a luminous touch. She cherishes childhood memories and traditions of wide-eyed wonder and excitement of enjoying the simple things life has to offer, yet she's being secretly tugged into a darker territory that's she's never known.

It's clear from this point in the film that Jamie Lee's Laurie provides Halloween with two absolutely essential entity's: the original, established "horror" character staple of the "Final Girl", and a palpable, pulsating emotional core.

At every moment of her performance, Curtis sculpts the simplicity of Laurie Strode while crafting the emotional infrastructure, and it's why she stands out among the many copied but never equaled "Final Girl's" that horror films to this day offer up in pathetic, weak servings. She does all of this while never for a second losing sight of the character's likability and easy appeal, especially while being this iconic babysitter. It's kinda interesting how well Curtis understands Laurie, and how well Laurie understands and relates to kids like Tommy and Lindsay; through Laurie's warmth and kindness, she jokingly assures Tommy that there is no boogeyman and that she will protect him. It's a childhood fear that is ever so quickly catching up with her, though she has yet to even recognize it.

As her night of babysitting goes on she makes popcorn, watches scary movies, carves a pumpkin, reads comic books, and wonders what might have been ("everybody's having a good time tonight") if she was more like her friends, though she steadily backs away from the typical teenage norms, as when she begs Annie to cancel her dance dates with Ben Tramer. She's a nicely packaged bundle of repressed feelings and nerves that seem like they'll never come undone...

...that is until she makes a trip across the street to the Wallace House to check up on her pals when that sinking feeling surfaces once again...

....and this time instinct proves her right when she discovers the hacked up bodies of her friends in the house...

...then she becomes face-to-face with 'ol Michael Myers herself as he sets out for her as she runs off in a frenzy...

....and reaches the house panicked after losing her keys, but is finally let in.

But what never quite struck me before is just how much Curtis' performance and layered characterization amplifies this tense, heart-stopping climax.

The emotional core she has consistently provided the film becomes channeled directly through the heart of these scenes, where Curtis brings out the bravery and strength of a character we thought was so meek. Had Curtis of just played the role right into bland, cliched, generic territory these final scenes wouldn't of had the same impact as it does when she makes them so emotionally engaging.

These scenes also mark a new growth and change in Laurie's tensely building arc, the beginning of her transition from innocent child to a scarred and weary woman. But Curtis always keeps it real and grounded in a situation where any other actress might have come off as shrill or downright silly.

It's some pretty haunting stuff, folks.

Halloween is a film that lovers of it (like myself) can't say enough good things about it. It's surprisingly wide appeal, popularity, and success which continues to this very day is largely due to Jamie Lee Curtis' indelible, larger-than-iconic performance as the unforgettable babysitter Laurie Strode. Her creation of a heroine with so much texture, strength, warmth, and humanity set the bar pretty damn high for all of those future copy-cats to come within this genre, and she's never ever been matched. This Halloween, do your self a favor...watch this movie with the lights off and revist a performance and film of pure perfection.