If you've ever seen Halloween, you'll know that there are surprisingly few times where "I'mma fuck them titties" would be the appropriate thing to respond with, and even fewer times if you're set on making these intentions known to 200 people. Luckily enough, no one in the theater for Halloween made a single remark about any of them titties. But that's a bittersweet victory at best, because that man and his ghastly premonitions are still out there.
I'm 90 percent sure that was the plot for this one.
Before the movie started, a "History of Michael Myers" mini documentary played, because the best way to hype an audience up for the first film in a series is revealing copious footage from the later films. Edited together like the Halloween series had fucked the editor's girlfriend's titties, it was a slapdash appraisal of 10 movies that no one wanted. By the time the actual film played, the sense of anticipation in the room had been deflated. If they had wanted to see the fifth guy who played Michael Myers talk about how challenging it was to accept the iconic role and how Halloween will still frighten everyone who stumbles across it today, they would've been scrolling through DVD special features. And the movie was never able to regain its momentum.