Fantastic Fest Review: The Spirit of Halloweentown

When you don't have much, you make do with what you have. That's the message of The Spirit of Halloweentown, the Fantastic Fest-selected documentary about how a nothing-happening burg keeps borrowing some shine from Hollywood.

The story really began in the summer of 1998, when location scouts for a low-budget kid-friendly Halloween movie settled on St. Helens, Oregon. Oct. 17 of that year, Halloweentown debuted on the Disney Channel, and it became a cult favorite for its tween audience. Then in 2010 a few locals from St. Helens had a little pumpkin lighting and, as one resident and Halloweentown buff explains, "it just sort of grew." Now St. Helens has six weeks of Halloween celebrations because, well, what else is a city of 14,000 people an hour’s drive from Portland supposed to do?

Documentarians Bradford Thomason and Brett Whitcomb have specialized in this kind of idiosyncratic social anthropology since their profile of everyone's favorite animatronic pizza-slinging band, The Rock-afire Explosion. With films like GLOW: The Story of the Gorgeous Ladies of Wrestling and A Life in Waves, they've honed their sense of advocacy for the underdog. However, while The Spirit of Halloweentown is filled with quirky locals like a trick or treat bag stuffed with full-sized bars, what it lacks is focus.

What it does show is how the legacy of Halloweentown intersects with the lives of the people of Columbia County, rather than necessarily a more direct exploration of how this highly unauthorized event has become a major part of the town's identity. But exactly why the filmmakers decide to let Holcombe Waller, owner of the Klondike Tavern, dig his own grave over a bad customer review of a soggy burger is a little baffling, nor does it seem apparent why they let this become a whole subplot. There’s at least some entertainment to be had from the absolutely unhinged Halloweentown-hater who is convinced that Waller is a warlock and went to council to complain about these celebrations of the Devil’s Birthday.

Arguably, Whitcomb and Thomason get distracted by their cast of characters, whether it be the city bigwigs who get drawn into Waller’s drama, or the local ghost hunters, or the dance coach who leads her high school cheer team through an excellently choreographed cheerleader zombie routine that wouldn’t be out of place at Universal Horror Nights. That’s where The Spirit of Halloweentown becomes charming, in getting behind the scenes of this homemade celebration. The budget with which the population of St. Helens mounts all this is dwarfed by their sheer enthusiasm, and that’s endearing.

Yet there are so many unanswered specific questions. Why is poor neighboring Scappoose (also a shooting location) overlooked? How does the Halloweentown tourism interact with the Twilight tourism? (The Swan house is now an AirB&B, if you happen to be in the neighborhood.) What happens the other 46 weeks of the year? Thomason and Whitcomb come infuriatingly close to saying something really insightful about living in a tourist town, especially one as off-the-beaten-track as St. Helens, or Tombstone, or Marceline. Nor are there enough specifics about Halloweentown itself, or any consideration of the fans who travel ridiculous distances just to get a photo in front of the real Cromwell Manor. Whitcomb and Thomason may capture the spirit of Halloweentown, but so much else that matters eludes them.

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The Spirit of Halloweentown

USA, 2024, 94 min.
World Premiere

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