Raul Marques’s review published on Letterboxd:
Cinematic dèjá-vu. Everything’s remarkably familiar, regardless of whether you’ve already seen it or not. What’s unique is that this familiarity doesn’t exactly manifest itself the way one would expect. It doesn’t feel like you know the tropes, the archetypes, the killer’s M.O. or the suburban location, even though that’s pretty much the case, it feels like you actually, somehow, sensorially experience the whole thing before. That particular feeling is only deepened by the way Carpenter plays out the story, as if it were a long, unhurried, increasingly harrowing flashback to another spooky real-life legend. Which, of course, should be natural given the picture's theme, yet its dedicated, unflinching execution only reverberates its long-living effectiveness.
PS: Yay or Nay for the sequels? Which ones?