Writing About Movies (Part 2) by Wayne Byrne

Part 2 of this article, in which author Wayne Byrne looks back on and updates a piece he wrote a few years ago for Writing.ie on his (incredibly productive) career writing about the movies . . .

Read Part 1 of this article here.

But despite my best efforts to remain eclectic in my choice of subjects, I was brought back around to the realm of horror franchises once again thanks to an important personal connection to the material at hand. I had batted away certain ones that were presented to me, after contemplating whether I wanted to spend a year watching and writing about them. But then the suggestion of the Halloween franchise piqued my curiosity and interest. This was something that had an emotional resonance for me, that crucial intangible quality that affords me a way in, to go beyond the professional and objective and into a place of personal meaning which will immediately strengthen the quality and indeed the urgency of my writing. It is the ultimate deciding factor of the projects I pursue to contract.

The Halloween franchise has been with me all my life. I very clearly remember being driven home from school by my father, Patrick, one sunny day in 1989 (I was six!) and him telling me that he recorded a movie on the television the previous night that I might like. It was called Halloween III. “Great,” I enthused. I loved horror. At that stage my dad had already been dutifully recording Freddy’s Nightmares (the short-lived Elm Street TV show) off Sky One on Friday nights for me. So, he thought I would like this bizarre movie that featured a megalomaniacal Irish toymaker hellbent on bringing terror to the children upon the Festival of Samhain. And enjoy it I did. It was, and remains, one of the most unique and idiosyncratic mainstream films I’ve ever seen. That was the film that made me want to write this book.

Without it I would never have ventured forth in discovering the rest of the Halloween films. So, with my dad’s help I rented Halloween II. And then John Carpenter’s original 1978 film. I worked my way backwards, so I didn’t necessarily have absolute reverence for Carpenter’s seminal masterpiece from having discovered that one first; I loved part III, and I greatly enjoyed part II, even though it was nothing like the third entry. Only later was I to learn that it was in fact the third film that was unlike the first two, deviating as it did from the Michael Myers stalk-and-slash storyline established in 1978 and 1981 respectively. But that was always Carpenter’s intention, to make an anthological series of films set on Halloween night, connected only by the title. But when the first film became the most successful independent film of all time it was inevitable that the white-masked cash cow would be milked dry.

So, in a way this book is a tribute to the movies of my youth, and to my father for introducing me to them. I don’t say that lightly. Without cinema I would have nothing. I hated school. I hated sports. I only wanted to sit and watch movies and learn about them. My teachers saw no value in this. And I saw no value in their teaching, so it was a mutual disinterest. But cinema has given me direction when I have been lost. It is only because of cinema that I am a writer. I was not a reader; I was a watcher. I write as a means of expressing my love for this artform.

It started with the aforementioned Tom DiCillo book, and I would have been happy had that been the only book I ever wrote, because I never saw what I was doing as a gateway to a writing career – I just wanted to pay tribute to my favourite director for introducing me to cinema in all of its possibilities and varieties. But it was during the process of working on that book when I discovered that writing was something I could do well; it was the first time I felt comfortable working, it felt natural. And thrillingly so. There is no greater feeling that seeing your book make it to the shelves.

And here I am again seeing the results of many years of my youth sat in front of the TV consuming these stories and images on videotape become something tangible, something literate, something that contributes to the annals of this art and industry that I love.  So once again I must thank the movies, and, by extension, my father for nurturing this passion that has brought me here writing this very piece in contemplation of another literary release. For every Halloween or Elm Street movie he would rent for me, he would also introduce me to John Ford films such as Fort Apache, Stagecoach, The Quiet Man, or James Cagney gangster films like White Heat and Each Dawn I Die. That was my education. My film school and my writing school.

(c) Wayne Byrne

Read Part 1 of this article here.

About You Can’t Kill the Boogeyman: The Ongoing Halloween Saga – 13 Movies and Counting by Wayne Byrne: