John Carpenter has this one recurring nightmare.
“I’m in a huge, massive town I don’t really know,” he says, “and I’m looking for the movie district. And inevitably all the theaters are closed down. They’re all closed down. That’s what the dream is.”
I’m visiting Carpenter at his longtime manufacturing home in Hollywood on one among L.A.’s unjustly sunny October afternoons. A classic “Halloween” pinball machine and a life-size Nosferatu hover close to his simple chair. I inform him I don’t assume Freud would have an excessive amount of hassle decoding that individual dream.
“No, I know,” he says, laughing. “I don’t have too much trouble with that either.”
Nonetheless, it actually haunts him — “and it has haunted me over the years for many dreams in a row,” he continues. “I’m either with family or a group, and I go off to do something and I get completely lost. [Freud] wouldn’t have too much trouble figuring that out either. I mean, none of this is very mysterious.”
Carpenter is a gruff however approachable 77 as of late, his profession as a movie director receding within the rearview. The final function he made was 2010’s “The Ward.” His unofficial retirement was partly chosen, partly imposed by a capricious trade. The good film poster artist Drew Struzan died two days earlier than I visited — Carpenter says he by no means met Struzan however cherished his work, particularly his putting portray for the director’s icy 1982 creature film “The Thing” — and I observe how that entire enterprise of promoting a film with a chunk of handmade artwork is a misplaced one.
“The whole movie business that I knew, that I grew up with, is gone,” he replies. “All gone.”
John Carpenter with John Mulaney, showing as part of “Everybody’s in L.A.” on the Sundown Gower Studios in Could 2024.
(Adam Rose / Netflix)
It hasn’t, fortunately, made him wish to escape from L.A. He nonetheless lives right here along with his spouse, Sandy King, who runs the graphic novel imprint Storm King Comics, which Carpenter contributes to. He gamely appeared on John Mulaney’s “Everybody’s in L.A.” sequence on Netflix and, earlier this 12 months, the Los Angeles Movie Critics Assn. gave him a Profession Achievement Award — a belated lovefest for a veteran who was sidelined after “The Thing” flopped, solid out into indie darkness and was by no means personally nominated for an Oscar.
The factor that does maintain Carpenter busy as of late (apart from watching Warriors basketball and enjoying videogames) is the factor that may have a good larger cultural footprint than his motion pictures: his music. Together with his grownup son Cody and godson, Daniel Davies, Carpenter is as soon as once more performing reside concert events of his movie scores and instrumental albums in a run at downtown’s Belasco this weekend and subsequent.
The synthy, hypnotic scores that turned his signature in movies like “Halloween” and “Escape from New York” not solely outnumber his output as a director — he’s scored motion pictures for a number of different filmmakers and just lately made a handshake deal in public to attain Bong Joon Ho’s subsequent function — however their affect and recognition are far more evident in 2025 than the type of his image-making.
From “Stranger Things” to “F1,” Carpenter’s minimalist palette of retro electronica mixed with the groove-based, trancelike ethos of his music (which now contains 4 “Lost Themes” data) is the coin of the realm so many trendy artists are chasing.
Only a few composers right now try to sound like John Williams; a lot of them wish to sound like John Carpenter. The Kentucky-raised skeptic with the lengthy white hair doesn’t imagine me after I specific this.
“Well, see, I must be stupid,” he says, “because I don’t get it.”
“The true evil in the world comes from people,” says Carpenter. “I know that nature’s pretty rough, but not like men.
(Jason Armond / Los Angeles Times)
Carpenter is quick to put himself down. He always says that he scored his own films because he was the only composer he could afford, and that he only used synths because they were cheap and he couldn’t properly write music for an orchestra. When I tell him that Daniel Wyman, the instrumentalist who helped program and execute the “Halloween” rating in 1978, praised Carpenter’s innate data of the “circle of fifths” and secondary dominants — bedrocks of Western musical principle that allowed Carpenter’s scores to maintain the strain cooking — he huffs.
“I have no idea what he’s talking about,” Carpenter says, midway between self-deprecation and one thing extra rascally. “It all comes, probably, from the years I spent in our front room with my father and listening to classical music. I’m sure I’m just digging this s— out.”
Whether or not by osmosis or genetics or presumably black magic, Carpenter clearly absorbed his powers from his father, Dr. Howard Carpenter, a classically educated violinist and composer. Classical music crammed the childhood dwelling in Bowling Inexperienced and for younger John it was all about “Bach, Bach and Bach. He’s my favorite. I just can’t get enough of Johann there.”
It is smart. Bach’s music has a round spell high quality and the pipe organ, resounding with reverb in gargantuan cathedrals, was the unique synthesizer.
“He’s the Rock of Ages of music,” says Carpenter, who significantly loves the fugue nicknamed “St. Anne” and the Toccata and Fugue in D Minor. “Everybody would go back to Mozart or Beethoven. They are astonishing — Beethoven is especially astonishing — but they’re not my style. I don’t feel it like I do with Bach. I immediately got him.”
Carpenter was additionally a movie rating freak since Day 1. He cites the early digital music in 1956’s “Forbidden Planet” and claims Bernard Herrmann and Dimitri Tiomkin as his two all-time favorites. Simply hear, he says, to the way in which Tiomkin’s music transitions from the westerny fanfare underneath the Winchester Footage brand to the swirling, menacing orchestral storm that accompanies “The Thing From Another World” title card in that 1951 sci-fi image that Carpenter remixed as “The Thing.”
“The music is so weird, I cannot follow it,” he says. “But I love it.”
But Carpenter feels extra personally indebted to rock ‘n’ roll: the Beatles, the Stones, the Doorways. He needed to be a rock star ever since he grew his hair lengthy and acquired a guitar in highschool. He sang and carried out R&B and psychedelic rock for sororities on the Western Kentucky campus in addition to on a tour of the U.S. Military bases in Germany. He fashioned the rock trio Coupe de Villes along with his buddies at USC they usually made an album and performed wrap events.
He additionally saved absorbing modern influences, listening to Warren Zevon’s “Werewolves of London” whereas location scouting for “Halloween.” Peter Fonda later launched Carpenter to Zevon and he needed the director to adapt the tune into a movie that by no means occurred (starring Fonda because the werewolf, however “this time he gets the girl,” Carpenter remembers). Within the ’80s he blasted Metallica along with his two boys and he nonetheless loves Devo.
It’s extremely uncommon for a movie director to attain their very own movies, rarer nonetheless for one to spend a long time on stage as a performing musician. The requisite personalities would appear diametrical.
“My dad was a performing musician, so it was just part of the family,” Carpenter says. Nevertheless, till 2016, when Carpenter first toured along with his music, he was consumed with stage fright. “I had an incident when I was in a play in high school,” he says. “I went up and I forgot my lines. Shame descended upon me and I had a tough time. I was scared all the time.”
The director credit his touring drummer, Scott Seiver, for serving to him beat it.
“Your adrenaline carries you to another planet when that thing starts,” he sighs with pleasure. “You hear a wall of screaming people. It’s a big time.”
He pushes again in opposition to the concept administrators “hide behind the camera.”
“The pressure, that’s the biggest thing,” Carpenter says. “You put yourself under pressure from the studio, you’re carrying all this money, crew, you want to be on time.”
He remembers seeing some haggard making-of footage of himself in post-production on “Ghost of Mars” in 2001 and considering: Oh my God, this man is in hassle. “I had to stop,” he says. “I can’t do this to myself anymore. I can’t take this kind of stress — it’ll kill you, as it has so many other directors. The music came along and it’s from God. It’s a blessing.”
John Carpenter is grateful however he doesn’t imagine in God. He believes that, after we die, “we just disperse — our energy disperses, and we return to what we were. We’re all stardust up there and the darkness created us, in a sense. So that’s what we have to make peace with. I point up to the infinite, the space between stars. But things stop when you die. Your heart stops, brain — everything stops. You get cold. Your energy dissipates and it just… ends. The End.”
This isn’t precisely a peaceable thought for him.
“I mean, I don’t want to die,” he provides. “I’m not looking forward to that. But what can you do? I can’t control it. But that’s what I believe and I’m alone in it. I can’t put that on anybody else. Everybody has their own beliefs, their own gods, their own afterlife.”
He describes himself as a “long-term optimist but a short-term pessimist.”
“I have hope,” he says, “put it that way.” But he seems round and sees a variety of evil.
“The true evil in the world comes from people,” says Carpenter, who has lengthy used cinematic allegories to skewer capitalist pigs and bloodthirsty governments. “I know that nature’s pretty rough, but not like men. You see pictures of lions taking down their prey and you see the face of the prey and you say: ‘Oh, man.’ Humans do things like that and enjoy it. Or they do things like that for power or pleasure. Humans are evil but they’re capable of massive good — and they’re capable of the greatest art form we have: music.”
The best?
“You don’t have to talk about it. You just sit and listen to it. It’s not my favorite,” he clarifies, alluding to his past love, cinema — “but it’s the one that transcends centuries.”
Music has at all times been kinder to him than the film enterprise. That enterprise just lately reared its ugly head when A24 tossed his accomplished rating for “Death of a Unicorn.” (A minimum of he owns the rights and shall be placing it out someday quickly.) Along with the excessive he will get from enjoying reside, he’s at present engaged on a heavy metallic idea album full with dialogue. It’s known as “Cathedral” and he’ll be enjoying a few of it on the Belasco.
It’s basically a film in music kind, primarily based on a dream Carpenter had. Although not one he finds scary. What scares Carpenter, it appears, just isn’t being in management.
That occurred to him within the film world, it’s taking place an increasing number of as what he calls the “frailties of age” mount and it occurs in that nightmare about getting misplaced in an enormous metropolis and never discovering any theaters.
“But I can’t do anything about it,” he says. “What can I do? See, the only thing I can do is what I can control: music. And watching basketball.”
