So far, the books in Stop The Killer’s series of novelizations (Silent Night, Deadly Night and My Bloody Valentine, for those keeping track) have been adaptations of cherished faves of mine. These novels allowed me to experience a story I knew inside and out with new context and information, like seeing a new extended cut of a film I’ve practically memorized. But this time around, Stop The Killer and author Armando Muñoz have decided to tackle 1981’s Happy Birthday To Me, which I’ve only seen two or three times, due to it being what I consider the quintessential “it’s fine” slasher of that golden era.
And by that, I mean if I were to rank the lot of them (and by god, there were indeed a LOT), it’d probably end up directly in the middle of the list. It’s certainly not without merit: there are some good kills, a whopper of a goofy twist reveal, and some more stylish direction than you might expect to find from this kind of thing as the director was none other than J. Lee Thompson of The Guns Of Navarone and (original) Cape Fear fame. You can do worse!
But it’s also rather slow-paced; the film runs just under two hours, yet the body count is a bit lower than other 1981 classics (My Bloody Valentine, Halloween II, The Burning, etc), making it feel more like a teen melodrama with some occasional murders than the full-on slasher that was promised. Indeed, the infamous tagline of “six of the most bizarre murders you’ll ever see” doubles on what it actually offers, as the motorcycle, weight, and shish kebab killings qualify as unusual, while the rest are standard slashings and stabbings.
Even more damaging is that it’s very disjointed, which makes the ending confusing and not very satisfying. The killer’s identity was changed during production, resulting in the culprit having to spend most of their obligatory “this is why I’m doing this!” monologue on merely smoothing over (some of) the resulting plot holes while leaving other story points unresolved.
Three of the central group of characters vanish with no explanation (though one resurfaces briefly during the climax, making things even more confusing out of nowhere), denying us some carnage the film could seriously use. And worse, some of the male characters begin acting very strangely out of nowhere, as if screenwriters John C.W. Saxton, Peter Jobin, and Timothy Bond wanted to turn them into red herrings but without providing any in-film explanation for their behavior to justify it.
But that’s where Muñoz comes in! While he (as always) sticks to the film’s events and dialogue fairly closely, he once again has taken it upon himself to add new material that makes more sense out of the story’s more puzzling moments, just as he did with his previous novelizations. And while I still don’t find myself particularly enamored with the saga of Crawford High’s Top 10, I will say that this version is more thorough and satisfying than its cinematic counterpart.
(SPOILERS BELOW!)
I particularly liked how he solved two issues with one stone. As mentioned, some male characters begin acting very odd at certain points in the story, creepily harassing heroine Virginia (Melissa Sue Anderson) despite being normal with her earlier. To explain this, Muñoz has added a few scenes where “Virginia” (actually the killer wearing a lifelike mask) goes to those characters’ respective houses at odd hours.
While the guy is in his bedroom, she gets their attention from outside and then proceeds to initiate a “Show me yours, I’ll show you mine” kind of seduction. She then motions for them to join her outside (to do more than look), but disappears by the time they are able to race out their door.
The novelized account also ramps up the body count, killing off not only Rudi and Maggie (the off and on couple who, after reconciling at the school dance, are never seen again) but also the school’s uptight principal. It’s here that Muñoz gets to dive into some of the sexual perversions that have become his trademark; in the actual movie, the opening victim makes a tasteless joke inferring that the principal’s dog gives her oral pleasure, and Muñoz takes that throwaway line and turns it into an actual character trait. Icky, yes, but I can’t help but be amused at how the author is constantly turning these slasher characters into sexual deviants for no real reason.
He otherwise tones down that sort of thing compared to the other novels (those who read Silent Night, Deadly Night are probably still stunned by how he depicted Sr. Margaret). Aside from Virginia’s aforementioned nighttime visits (which usually lead to the man pleasuring himself in front of her), the only other thing of note that he conjured up for this crew is the rather hilarious aside that the guy who is lifting weights when he is murdered is said to have been aroused at the time (think of where the first weight falls. Ouch).
Otherwise, he keeps his additions confined to explaining plot holes and boosting the body count with characters who survived the movie (but didn’t appear again either, so the “canon” is left intact), making this the most accessible of his books thus far for those who might be a little more prudish when it comes to such things.
He also gives the killer more of a personality. After each kill and in a few interludes between, we are treated to the inner thoughts of “The Cake Cutter” as they consider who they plan to go after next, which characters are becoming a nuisance, etc. It sounds a little goofy, but it actually works quite well to give the killer a little more presence than the movie offers. And similarly, by being inside of Virginia’s head at times, we’re treated to her confusion and increasing belief that she has a split personality. The movie’s twist is jarring and not very well implemented due to its eleventh-hour switch, but it feels fully ingrained and earned in the novel.
My favorite addition, however, is more action for… you guessed it, George the mouse. In the movie, the little guy disappears after his human owner Alfred (who made the masks because he was a budding movie FX artist who idolized Dick Smith and the like; some backstory the movie never offered) is killed at the halfway point. Here, after Alfred’s death, he scurries around the cemetery grounds, eluding the “Cake Cutter” (who is, for some reason, trying to kill him as well) until the villain loses interest and leaves.
He then finds his way to the killer’s macabre birthday party tableau, crawls into his little spot in Alfred’s pocket, and “cries himself to sleep.” It’s so sad! But then George helps get revenge during the climax, jumping back out and startling the killer enough for Virginia to get the upper hand. It’s such a strange diversion, but I found it genuinely wonderful.
It was this inclusion that kind of hammered home the point for me, which is that while I may not have any great affinity for the film, there are other people who certainly do, and they have probably wondered about these things for years. “Where did George the mouse go?” “Why didn’t that jerk Rudi get a death scene?” etc.
The way this trio of books has explained away those questions, both big and small, and with the blessing of folks behind the actual movies, is something I find quite refreshing in the world of novelizations. My birthday wish? That this series continues for a long time.
Happy Birthday To Me is now shipping, and you can order your copy here.
For more horror movie novelizations, check out some more favorites from the screen to the page, including Alien 3, The Thing, The Crow: City of Angels, and more.