With a ponytail, a pigtail of clean white hair, and a mustache, dressed in black, like a preacher of the damned who chewed gum without rest and tended to wiggle like he was in a ridiculous prom dance, John Carpenter jumped the afternoon of Saturday, when it was not even dark outside, to the improvised stage in a movie theater, the venue for the Fantastic Film Festival of Sitges, to perform, accompanied by a band that highlighted the presence of his son Coy's keyboards Cornelius, a retrospective sound self-homage. Because the cinema of suspended plane, exploding heads and blond children murderers of the creator of Halloween it is also music, and one, synthesized, eighties, terrifying, that, by itself, can fill auditoriums.
Because they exhausted, the Carpenters, father and son, the tickets for your first happening in Spain -none less than 1,300, not too many if we think of a concert to use, but when we think of a cinematographic projection-, a peculiar session of slasher metal, which started with a piece of 1997: Rescue in New York, and Kurt Russell on screen. Yes, there was a screen, and it was one that was reflected as in a mirror, in a square, a polyhedron, perfect, and through it paraded images of the tape to which the music had served, at the time, atmospheric support. Smiling, Father Carpenter, pointed here and there, among the public, to his next victims, and at his side, his son, from his own planet, supported the riff teacher that he was responsible for executing.
No, there was no fear in the room, although the melody of Halloween -From the present, or future, because the new installment is released in a week, the past, from a venerable Jamie Lee of almost six decades, to the very young Laurie Strode of 1978-, central part of the curious spectacle, halfway between the concert of seats and the cinema session collage, it will always cause chills. Above all, he reminded himself. Yes, he had some nostalgic session, a trance weird towards the Carpenter universe with stop at classic bizarre contestatarios like They are alive -For whose interpretation, the director did not forget put on the sunglasses Russell wore in the movie – and in hypnotic nightmares like The town of the cursed, that no, is not based on the famous story of Stephen King but in a novel by John Wyndham.
We remember, listening to the Carpenters, that, before becoming the most famous paleontologist in the world, cinematographically speaking, Sam Neill filmed under the orders of the guy who does not stop chewing gum while playing – the keyboards, yes- In the mouth of fear, and also that he has always liked to play with the idea that something nests in us, and it is something horrible (The thing), and with a tendency to swell and try to explode (Big blow in little China). Although he could not do much more than applaud (the bloody feats of his characters on the screen), trapped as he was in the chair, the public gave himself up to the most chaotic orgy of film, horror and cassette tapes (synthesized) proposed by the master , who came to call it "educated" – "Hey, guys, are not you cutting a bit?" – and decided to close -in the biz-with a nod to master Stephen King: his version of Christine. Carpenter, the eternal damn, at the wheel.