Neither as creative as the Nightmare On Elm Street films nor as disreputable as the Friday The 13th series, the Halloween franchise has coasted for decades on the strength of a memorable killer (masked slasher Michael Myers), eerie theme music, and the 1978 original's deserved reputation as a masterpiece of pure craft. In 1998, Halloween H20 was hyped as a more upscale thriller in the Scream mold, but in spite of Jamie Lee Curtis' return and a much-ballyhooed but curiously uncredited script-doctoring by Kevin Williamson, the film was little more than a listless genre exercise. In Halloween: Resurrection, Curtis again returns—now catatonic and institutionalized—and sticks around just long enough for a pair of exposition-happy nurses to explain how she killed the wrong person at the end of H20, thereby allowing Myers to escape. After dying a death better suited to a Leprechaun In The Hood extra than a proper horror-movie icon, Curtis exits the film, which promptly shifts its focus to cyber-entrepreneur Busta Rhymes' plans to broadcast an online show featuring six oversexed teens spending a night in Myers' boyhood home. Needless to say, Rhymes' cyber-venture is even less successful than most. Soon, the blood flows freely while cyber-gawkers ponder whether the violence is real or just part of the show. Directed by Rick Rosenthal (Halloween II), Resurrection contains a few already-dated swipes at media opportunism borrowed from the conceptually intriguing but similarly awful Book Of Shadows: Blair Witch Project 2. Otherwise, it seems content to plod listlessly through the motions. Rhymes looks like he's having a great time playing a hip-hop, cyber-age William Castle, and his enjoyment is infectious. But otherwise, the cast consists mostly of anonymous, interchangeable teenage slasher-bait. Ironically, one of the film's pimply heroes spends much of the film dressed as John Travolta in Pulp Fiction, providing a quaint reminder of a time when the Weinstein brothers (who co-executive-produced Resurrection) helped finance the occasional masterpiece in addition to heaps of trash.