All 13 Halloween movies ranked, from worst to best

Few were expecting to be a classic, but it wasn’t unreasonable to be excited by Jamie Lee Curtis’ prominent placement on the poster and the return of Rick Rosenthal, who helmed the fan favorite second film. But in 1981 Rosenthal was assisted by writer/producers John Carpenter and Debra Hill, while here he was saddled with an oft-rewritten screenplay that changed based on the whims of producer Bob Weinstein, something not even Carpenter himself could overcome. The mask is terrible, the kids (reality show wannabes wandering around the Myers house, for those who have rightfully forgotten) are worse, and there are no scares whatsoever. And it was released in July for some reason, as if they felt guilty and didn’t want anyone’s actual Halloween season spoiled by the damn thing.

Despite its low ranking here, there are some things to like about Rob Zombie’s , his remake of the original film. The lengthy sequence inside Smith’s Grove, focusing on Loomis (Malcolm McDowell) trying to help young Michael, gives us insight into the pair’s relationship that was largely lacking in the original series. And the matter-of-fact way Myers kills (as a child and as an adult, played by the hulking Tyler Mane) has an intensity that the sequels often ignored. Unfortunately, once Myers escapes, Zombie pivots and begins doing a sped up version of Carpenter’s film, with entire scenes playing out exactly as they did before. Why is THIS version of Myers suddenly putting on a sheet to pretend he’s Lynda’s boyfriend, when he’s been attacking without hesitation for the previous 75 minutes? Because that’s what his predecessor did in 1978. It all just completely falls apart as a result, inexplicably switching just at the point where a naysayer might have finally adjusted to the film’s tempo.

Released in a post-Scream landscape and opening up its potential audience by erasing the previous three films, offered the much heralded return of Laurie Strode (Curtis, of course) who wasn’t as dead as previously established. There are winking nods courtesy of producer Kevin Williamson are cute enough (Janet Leigh pops up as Laurie’s secretary, driving her Psycho car and asking her boss if she can “be maternal for a moment”), but the film has no real middle act, and Michael commits most of his carnage off-screen, making it feel like you’re watching a TV edit that was cut to the bone to fit a 90-minute time slot with commercials. It doesn’t help that Laurie seems to be a different character entirely, coming off more like the no-bullshit version of Curtis herself than the mousy Laurie we know and love. It’s a breezy watch and it only grows more amusing over time to see Michelle Williams in slasher movie territory, but the experience is too hollow to even measure up to some of the sequels it’s erasing, let alone the original it repeatedly apes.

Let’s put a long-standing rumor to bed: the fabled “Producer’s Cut” of , the franchise’s sixth entry, does not improve all that much on the nearly incoherent theatrical cut. It’s better, sure—there’s more Donald Pleasence (in his last performance in the role; he died before the film was finished), some much-needed story clarifications, and a slightly more dignified send-off for Jamie Lloyd, the heroine of the previous two films. But it also has much more about the goofy “Thorn Cult” that was mucking up the movie (series?) in the first place, so it’s not exactly a “win” either. It also lacks some highly entertaining scenes of Paul Rudd (as Tommy Doyle, the now adult version of the kid Laurie watched in the first film) smashing Myers around with a pipe, as that footage was part of the film’s massive reshoot. Most releases have both versions so you can choose for yourself, but its strong points (the seasonal atmosphere was never represented better than in this entry, for starters) are sadly still overshadowed either way.

This is the movie Rob Zombie should have delivered in the first place, as he fully makes it his own this time around instead of borrowing from the other Halloween II (a brief hospital scene is revealed to be a dream, so that doesn’t count). Zombie’s features Loomis as a tacky celebrity doing talk shows with Weird Al Yankovic, a homeless Myers stomping around town while having visions of his dead mother and a white horse, a pill-popping Laurie dancing to the MC5 … everything here is totally bonkers and exactly what we should see (for better and for worse) in a Rob Zombie Halloween movie. And the ending is genuinely tragic (in its director’s cut form at least), a rare bit of true pathos for the series.

If is truly the last entry in the series it’s a curious way to wrap it up, as Michael Myers only makes sporadic appearances until the last reel of its oddly paced 110 minutes. Curtis delivers a knockout performance (her best in the new trilogy, in fact) and the supporting cast is also all on point, but—keeping things spoiler free here—the big swings that have mostly worked in David Gordon Green’s other entries don’t connect as often here. It all builds to a terrific finale, but getting there takes more effort than even some die-hard fans may be willing to offer, especially after the not-loved previous film.

Yes, “Evil Dies Tonight” is annoying. But it’s also a blast to see what a Halloween movie on speed is like, racing from death to death (earning a series high in the process) as the entire town of Haddonfield turns into an angry mob, led by Tommy Doyle (alas, not Rudd, but a serviceable Anthony Michael Hall) and featuring a number of other survivors offering their (fan) services. And opens with the surprise reveal that Will Patton’s character survived his injuries in the previous film, which is a fine way of earning lots of goodwill—one of the few times the movie slows down is for a rather sweet scene between his Officer Hawkins and Laurie. Plus, how can you not at least kind of love an entry that finds a way to convincingly revive Dr. Loomis in a way that doesn’t feel ghoulish?

The rushed sequel  is more or less the reason that the series went off the rails, as it introduced the “Thorn” idea that overshadowed the next film and turned off enough fans that it became the norm to just restart the timeline every couple years. But it’s perfectly enjoyable on its own, featuring a heartbreaking (and mostly silent) performance from Danielle Harris as Myers’ niece and what serves as the essential swan song for Donald Pleasence’s full commitment to the role. There are goofy touches and some less-than-lovable protagonists, yes, but also some fine set pieces (the laundry chute!) and a genuinely eerie tone to much of the film that few of the subsequent entries have managed to capture.

There were dozens of slasher movies released in 1981, so with Michael Myers found himself competing not only against the original’s high bar, but the imitators that were beating him to the punch practically every week. However, outside of the dumb “sister” twist that was introduced here, it’s a plenty enjoyable followup and better than most copycats of the era, thanks to the inspired setting (a nearly empty hospital) and an expanded role for Pleasence, who gets in some of his best lines of the series here (explaining an angry mob outside of the abandoned Myers house: “It’s a TRIBE! One of their number was butchered—this is a WAKE!”). And no self respecting fan of the series can dismiss the hilariously mean-spirited fate of Ben Tramer, who was set to get a long-awaited date with Laurie the following night but ended up being shot at, run over, and blown up because he was dressed like the guy who tried to kill her.

At a certain point it seemed the series was dead, only to score a revival in the most surprising fashion: a new directed by indie stalwart David Gordon Green, starring Jamie Lee Curtis, and with score/producing contributions from John Carpenter himself, marking his first involvement with the series since 1982. This time they erased ALL of the sequels, undoing even the sibling angle that had informed every one of them, which allowed Green and company to once again poise Myers as a motiveless boogeyman. Of course, the plot was still engineered in a way to ensure Laurie and The Shape had their long awaited reunion, but by then it had already won many folks over simply by being scary again.

Time has been kind to this once completely hated entry, which infamously dropped Michael Myers and focused on a demented toymaker who wanted to kill all the world’s children on Halloween night with masks that were infused with the supernatural powers of Stonehenge. is even more insane than it sounds, but that’s precisely why it works. When they inserted such hooey into the Myers adventures, it felt like a complete misunderstanding what made the best films in the series work, but that doesn’t apply here. If you’re going to do something totally out of left field, it’s best to do it with a completely new set of characters in a different universe entirely (the characters here watch the original Halloween on TV, in fact). That way it can truly stand on its own without affecting anything else. Bonus points for showcasing Tom Atkins’ undeniable sexual magnetism.

What makes the best sequel? Simplicity. It’s almost a remake of the original at times; Myers is being transferred (why they always do this on October 30th is a question no one has ever answered) and finds out he has a niece (Danielle Harris, as Laurie’s daughter) in his old town. So he heads there to kill her, and that’s about it. Director Dwight Little favors suspense over gore, Ellie Cornell acquits herself nicely subbing for Curtis as another heroic babysitter, the Midwest setting of Haddonfield finally feels less California-y, and—in retrospect—it’s the last time in the series that there’s nothing in the plot that can leave a casual fan scratching their head. That alone keeps it near the top as time goes on and each new film requires a primer of what’s going on or why certain people are alive again.

This requires no explanation. From the second that iconic theme kicks in until the final shot cuts to credits over Michael’s breathing, everything in John Carpenter’s (yes, that’s the on-screen title for what was his second full feature) is expertly crafted across the board, leaving no potential scare untapped. The film is essentially plotless, as if Carpenter and Debra Hill knew such things would only get in the way of making you jump out of your seat every few minutes. The drab suburban houses only intensify the “it could happen to you” feeling, and even the daytime scares are more effective than most of its imitators ever managed with the full dark of night on their side. It’s not just the best Halloween movie, it’s the best slasher movie, and every one of those aforementioned sequels got a boost simply by association.