‘Halloween’s’ lame ‘Resurrection’

Uglier that a Father’s Day tie, tougher to kill than a liberal’s

political agenda, and coming back more than Adlai Stevenson, hey it’s

Michael Myers, the masked meathead from the “Halloween” series of

flicks that seems to exhibit a recurring trend of resurrecting itself

every now and then.

“Halloween Resurrection” is this year’s installment of a series

where the bad guy never dies. And listen up. I’m gonna tell you what

happens to the bad guy (Michael) at the end of this woofer of a

flick. He doesn’t die. Ain’t that a surprise?

It’s a Saturday morning. The birds are tweeting, the sun is

shining, and instead of picking up what my Siberian left in the

backyard, I figured I’d drop some green and view the cinematic

equivalent of the same over at Hutton Center.

The classic theme to “Halloween” emits from the speakers as

through a tunnel darkened, one walks to a door. The voice over on the

soundtrack tells us that on the other side of the door is either

heaven or hell.

On the other side of this particular door, looking like the

latter, is Jamie Lee Curtis.

She’s a legitimate actress, what is she doing is some cheese ball

remake of a remake of a remake? Having starring in the 1978 original,

unlike fine wines, she’s aged more like a wine in a screw cap bottle

with an expiration date. And speaking of aging, check out the

resident bad guy, Michael Myers. He’s starting to look a whole lot

like Michael Jackson, or is it vise versa?

The sky is now dark, and it’s off to the basement of the local

loony bin we go, where lamps swing in shadows, and Michael lurks, and

heads will soon roll.

And roll they do for no particular reason, except to fill up

screen time, as Michael manages to Marie Antoinette a few employees

of the asylum.

The set up for “Halloween Resurrection” is that it’s Halloween

night. Some reality show producer (Busta Rhymes) has the high IQ idea

of nailing a half dozen or so noodle-heads into Michael Myers old

beater of a house, attaching mini cams to their vacant little noggins

and broadcasting their actions live on the net.

Well, Rhymes is a real wise guy. He’s gonna sneak into the house,

dress like Michael Myers, run amok, and freak out a bunch of airheads

who are already shakier than a fat lady in a Richard Simmons class.

Well guess who’s lurking in the basement? Nooo. It couldn’t be, could

it? The real Michael Myers? You betcha.

Stumbling around like he’d spent too much time in Monty Python’s

Ministry of Funny Walks, as mute as Helen Keller and flashing his

knife like a runway fashion model, Michael can’t think real fast,

moves even slower, but must be chowing down creatine by the 50-gallon

drum as he can crush empty teenage heads with one hand.

He finally kills that harridan, Jamie Lee Curtis, but meets his

match in this installment, with some broad who comes after him with

anger and a chainsaw. Except, the chainsaw runs out of gas. Bummer .

. . ever resourceful, she shoves Michael into a maze of live

electrical cords. Adding in a few gallons of fortuitously available

gasoline, she over-bakes this clown like a cake in a beginning

cooking class.

It’s out the conveniently unlocked door for her as her extinct

compatriots roast like s’mores. And who is that the coroner is

bringing out in a heavy duty Glad Bag? It’s that star of past,

present, and future “Halloween” flicks, Michael Myers. Although he,

in the sole intellectual moment in ‘’Halloween Resurrection’’ is

referred to as a “riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma’’

(that’s Churchill, for you history ignoramuses), actually he is a

moron wrapped in a bad flick inside an eternally never ending series.

* UNCLE DON reviews b-movies and cheesy musical acts for the

Daily Pilot. He may be reached by e-mail at ReallyBadWriting@aol.com.