Dan Morris: Reservoir Dogs meet the Hounds of Hell
My dad always called it his mother-in-law’s only night off of the year. In his opinion, Halloween was a time for other witches to shine.
It’s a calendar favourite across the globe, yet in my home growing up, All Hallows’ Eve was never really a big deal.
My mother would go all out for Christmas, be the first to the bubbly for New Year’s, and be certain to attempt to coax everyone into a chocolate-induced coma every Easter. But Halloween? Nah.
It wasn’t even the fancy dress element. When my parents were in their forties it seemed like every other week they were heading to some costume party with revolving sets of other couples (writing that down for the first time, perhaps I should now be asking more questions of this. Then again, I think not...). My parents were both always ten pounds of fun in a five-pound bag, and while, no, they weren’t particular fans of creatures of the night or anything overly macabre, neither of them had anything against the spirit of Halloween per se.
Though, thinking back now, I tell something of a lie there.
My dad (who recently, dear readers, turned 70 – happy birthday, old chap!) has always had an issue with trick or treating. I remember him once describing it as an overly-Americanised form of begging that, much more importantly, encouraged small children to approach the doors of strangers after dark. A dream scenario, he suggested, for those grown-ups with the most evil of intentions.
Suffice to say, I never played trick or treat as a kid. Though, truth be told, I don’t feel like I’ve necessarily missed out on something – particularly as, when my twenties came along, I made up for my prior lack of Halloween revelry with gusto.
With starry eyes, I have reflected many times right here about my love of fancy dress and my penchant for going all out when it comes to pretending to be somebody else. Naturally this began on a particularly ethereal October 31, many years ago.
The town that I call home has never needed much of an excuse for a party, so when a universally calendar-acknowledged occasion rolls round, it’s all hands to the pump (or, indeed, corkscrew).
As a sprightly 19-year-old with a twinkle in his eye, it was time for my first pub (and adult) Halloween party. The grin is still with me. The Devil does not wear Prada, darling; she’s dressed by Ann Summers, and at this shindig, there were 20 of her. Deciding I could very much get used to this Halloween dress-up lark and the company it could lead me to keep, I’ve gone full tilt every year since. Costumes have been many and varied (indeed, one year I was the one in the suspenders), and though particular favourites have reared their head on more than one occasion, I’ve always tried my best to keep it generally fresh and inventive.
A zombiefied Axl Rose concealed beneath a pantomime horse get-up was an absolute belter, particularly as the other end of said stage nag was a zombiefied Slash.
Cap’n Jack, naturally, has served as an old faithful go-to, while The Joker à la Heath Ledger, a particularly blood-stained William Wallace, and (in my peroxide days) Spike of Buffy the Vampire Slayer fame have all made appearances over the years. Tonight however - with October 26 being the night that many across the land will be holding their spooky gatherings this year - I will be paying tribute to two of my greatest Hollywood heroes for the first time. My one-sided love affair with Leonardo DiCaprio is well known, and thanks to the splendid Quentin Tarantino theme my pal has chosen for tonight’s party, I get to don the glad rags of one of their greatest collaborative creations.
Straight from the dark Mississippi days of Django Unchained, Calvin Candie’s the name – and tonight, we will be serving white cake. The abhorrent plantation owner (and face of many a meme) from the 2012 western was easily one of DiCaprio’s finest turns, and should make the perfect villain for this evening’s proceedings. Plus, it was either this, or Uma Thurman’s The Bride from Kill Bill – and my yellow jumpsuit days are firmly behind me. Well, two weeks behind me anyway...
Whatever your plans this All Hallows’ Eve, I hope it’s a thriller. You’ll find me and mine at the jukebox with Monster Mash on repeat. Mwahahahahaha!
