Like any middle-aged, red-blooded American who isn't a jaded philistine, I'm a fan of Halloween (1978). It's not my all-time favorite, but it charts fairly high—nestled snugly between Taxi Driver (1976) and Saturday Night Fever (1978). I dig everything about it: the story, the music, the atmosphere, everything. If you ask about my favorite horror movie, I'll say it's "the one with the guy in the white mask who walks around and stalks babysitters."
For some puzzling reason, I also harbor affection for this other, far-lesser-known flick about a guy in a white mask who walks around and stalks preschool teachers. I'm referring to the most egregious Halloween rip-off ever; a grimy, crusty, zero-budget "thriller" so shameless in its desire to be Halloween—even copying whole sequences, shot-for-shot—that, for years, I thought I'd imagined it. I'm talking about Percival Rubens' The Demon (1981): the only film that ever made me doubt my own sanity.
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| Graham Kennard stalks Jennifer Holmes THE DEMON (1981) |
