Opening Note

I've always been a theme party aficionado. Over the years I've been to many parties that involve dress-up and--looking back at some of my costume choices--I'd hate to be overly introspective about the alter egos I chose to assume. A female business professor who tends to gravitate to costumes with a high va-va-voom factor is probably a clear (and embarrassing) textbook example of...well, something...to my psychology colleagues.

Halloween, despite its religious origins, has come to mean one thing for many Americans--costumes. Sure, kids get costumes and candy, but the adult experience of Halloween is usual a party where attendees are supposed to dress up as something scary or sexy or silly or politically relevant or clever or whatever. Choosing a costume can be a difficult experience for many people because it is 1) identity-relevant and 2) socially observed. In other words, your disguise for the evening informs other people about your inner self. And, ironically, a disguise is also your chance to escape your self-identity for an evening and play with another identity--often one that is quite unlike your day-to-day guise. This is a tough choice paradox that is usually demonstrated in the surprising angst and difficulty of smart and decisive adults to do a little thing like choose a costume for a party. (A vampire...hmm...no, it's too common and isn't creative enough. But the cape is alluring and you would get to "pretend bite" other peoples' necks all night...it might be a fun way to be a bit more powerful and flirtatious than usual...)

The concept of playing with different identities can also lead people into the realm of stereotyping and social bias. A costume is an inherently superficial way to experience another persona and this thin slice approach can lead to trouble. In a recent paper in Qualitative Sociology (2007), Meuller, Dirks, and Picca study how college students explore racial identity issues in the Halloween costume venue and find that the students often end up with an unrealistic and insensitive parody of another's identity that does more to exacerbate latent racism than to dispel it. One evening and one outfit is clearly not a true way to engage in an authentic alternative identity.

I wonder if online alter-worlds may eventually undermine the Halloween costume tradition for adults. Why spend one evening being a monster, a diva, a warrior, or a celebrity, when in an online environment, you can live as any of these beings? You can work, explore, make friends, build a house, and delve into an alternative identity in a way that seems much more authentic. Glossy, "managed" authenticity! (I've written a paper with Randy Rose on the emerging allure of managed authenticity in entertainment in the Journal of Consumer Research, 2005).

Perhaps we will see a decline in the number of Halloween costume parties or the costuming effort that adults spend because their need to escape the mundane everyday self already has its outlet in Second Life. The human need to play with identity outside the constraints of everyday life is no longer only socially planned and normatively acceptable on October 31st. And, of course, costumes fit better on virtual bodies...

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Closing Note

Famed filmmaker John Carpenter with Western Kentucky University senior broadcasting student Jon Peacock, during a visit to the campus he once called home.

Daniel Paxton, Junior English major at Western Kentucky University, recently wrote an essay on his long involvement with John Carpenter's Halloween.

Every Halloween, Carpenter lures me into the suburb of Haddonfield, Illinois. I curl up on the couch while the sun begins to set outside my window. No popcorn necessary, because though I've seen the film enough times to have memorized it, any movement or noise could result in a shower of kernels. I get so lost between the rambling diatribes of Dr. Loomis and wondering if Michael runs when the camera isn't watching him (I mean how else does someone who walks that slow always get one step ahead?) that I don't notice the sun has set, no lights are on and I'm alone in the house; usually around the time Michael is found to be missing after falling from the second floor balcony. Is he in my neighborhood? My house? I walk to the light switch in fear that the pale Shatner mask will be staring at me through my window.

Daniel's eloquent description of his ritual viewing and of the thin line between the fictional world of Michael Myers and his own expresses classic elements of fandom. Jacob Shoaf, who graduated from WKU in 2007, shows budding acafan credentials in his analysis of what makes Halloween important as a film:

Part of the film's effectiveness is in the way it uses its camera. The opening sequence of the film is a point-of-view shot from the perspective of young Michael Myers in what is meant to seem like a single, unbroken take when Myers slays his sister Judith. Carpenter continues to return to the POV shot from the perspective of both killer and victim throughout the film. My personal favorite perspective-skew comes when the camera observes Laurie Strode approach the door to the Myers house. When she turns to walk away, the original shot is then accompanied by a deep-breathing sound effect which implies that the shot is a Myers POV. Then one second later, The Shape (as Michael Myers is known while his mask is on) emerges from the right side of the frame transforming a POV from the perspective of a sociopath to that of an omniscient narrator. It creates unease in the viewer by briefly making them question their identity (not to mention making them voyeurs of a voyeur). And it all takes place in approximately three seconds. This caliber of technical prowess combined with a simple but terrifying story creates an enduring horror classic which will continue to frighten future generations.

While discussing the legacy of with WKU film students, I raised the question of whether the local connection to the film's origins adds anything to their fandom. John Carpenter grew up right on the WKU campus (where his father taught music) and attended classes here. He gave the keynote address at our spring 2007 commencement, which is one of the places where senior Broadcasting major Jon Peacock met him:

I myself feel a unique connection with this film as I not only currently reside in Bowling Green, Kentucky (the same small town that Carpenter hails from), but I have had the privilege of meeting John Carpenter twice. On the multiple occasions I have heard Carpenter talk about his classic film, it seems to me that it was a film very close to his heart. From the names of the streets to the idea of a small town ghost story come true, Halloween is a reflection of a part of Carpenter's life. I myself, like the thousands of fans across the world, will always remember what it was like to see Halloween for the first time. As I have grown older I have come to appreciate the true nature of what makes this film resonate with audiences almost thirty years after it's initial release--it is a film that we can all project ourselves into. We all know a Lori Strode, we all know of a ghost story that happened in our town, and we can all grasp the horror of watching the town ghost story coming true.

Senior English major Jeremy Richey combines several of these elements, from the local to the global:

Laurie Strode and Michael Myers grew up right down the street from me, or that is at least how it felt growing up in Kentucky after the release of Halloween. While the strength of Jamie Lee Curtis and the calm exterior of Carpenter's knife wielding psychopath seduced many kids all over the country, only kids in Kentucky would recognize the significance of many of the town and street names Carpenter populated his film with. Living in Kentucky added another dimension to Halloween that people anywhere else could not experience.

I knew about John Carpenter from a very young age. My mother had actually had a class with him at Western Kentucky University in the sixties. He was the classic local kid who had made it, but beyond that he was someone who never forgot his past or what it had meant to him. Even though it is set in the fictional town of Haddonfield, Illinois, Halloween is populated with reference to Kentucky. Names like Smiths Grove and Russellville gave, and continue to give, viewers an inside track to the creative genesis of John Carpenter. Indeed when I saw him speak at W.K.U this past year, Carpenter admitted that much of his work was powered by his adolescent memories of living in Bowling Green. Still, any number of films might contain references to a particular place special to the director, so what is it about Halloween that continues to captivate people all over the world? Why has the character of Michael Myers become so absolutely iconic? I would argue he has become as recognizable to film fans as a Han Solo or a James Bond. Some might scoff but there is a worldwide legion of fans devoted to this strange representation of evil, and his image pops up in nearly all forms of popular culture. Michael Myers has replaced many of the fairy tales kids living before 1978 grew up with; in short John Carpenter gave the boogeyman a face. The other aspect that resonates so strongly in Halloween is Jamie Lee Curtis herself. While rarely mentioned as one of the great film characters, Curtis' Laurie Strode is one of the first really strong female role models a lot of us discovered growing up. Horror is often maligned for its depiction of women as weak and as victims, and Laurie Strode is neither. As played by Curtis, and written by Carpenter, Strode is a fiercely intelligent and strong woman. She was not only the perfect woman for many adolescents to have their first crush on, but also the right one.

Halloween maintains all of its power thirty years after its release. Carpenter's masterful directorial style and perfect casting continues to resonate with film fans all over the world. Here in Kentucky, the film has become a part of our local mythology. It remains a sharp reminder of many of our childhood fears, and continues to inform many of our adult lives.

To promote these local connections, the Convention and Visitor's Bureau in Bowling Green is now offering Michael Myers tours that cover specific locations associated with Carpenter and his films. In an article promoting the tour, the local newspaper has listed the specific sites.

The Convention and Visitor's Bureau reports that local media has covered the tour extensively and hopes that interest will grow, especially next year, with the thirtieth anniversary of the film's release. The responses by WKU students suggest that promoting local tie-ins to texts with a strong fan following has some potential, especially if that added "dimension" that Jeremy mentions is exploited.

Yet all of the responses refer to a global appeal for Halloween as well, indicating that fans of texts in the popular media identify strongly with a much larger community.