His name is John Carpenter, prince of my invincible, stupendous, virulent darkness... John Carpenter who now, proud and haughty, walks as a giant in the bare today's cinematographic landscape, still sowing the titanic daintiness of his elegant, poetic beauty. In front of the undisputed master of a possibly lost Seventh Art, I prostrate myself, adoring him, genuflected as a sign of boundless, sacred admiration, drawing on every single frame to carve...