Tis the season and all that. Thanksgiving’s behind us (though I still haven’t seen Eli Roth’s new movie) and we are therefore past the firewall that stops us from getting into holiday horror too soon and just ruining our appetites. So with December underway, I thought I might glut myself on killers in Santa suits, murderous toys, cannibalistic elves, and awkward family meetings – you know – Christmas!
There have got to be more horror movies set at Christmas than any other holiday, including Halloween. Maybe it’s due to the perverse pleasure taken in souring something oversweet, or the endless parade of symbols, decorations, traditions, and songs this holiday offers up to be wickedly repurposed, or the idea that it happens at the darkest time of the year – the longest night – with just a bit of light to get us through, or possibly the fact (and I am far from the first to observe this) that it is inherently creepy to tell children that there is a huge old man in a red suit watching them all year long, judging their every action, and on the darkest night he will break into their house and… do stuff. Naughty or nice, that’s scary.
Anyway, I do enjoy a good Christmas horror movie and have written about a few in the past. A couple years back, I touched on a couple of great Santa Slashers as well as one of my absolute favorite horror movies ever, Bob Clark’s Black Christmas (1974), and last year I revisited, for the first time in far too long, Joe Dante’s devilishly fun and surprisingly scary Gremlins. But as mentioned above, there are so many more that I haven’t seen. So I think I’m going to do a run through as many as I can watch in the next week or so. There will probably be spoilers – enjoy!
Blood Beat (1983)
Wow. I’d heard that Fabrice-Ange Zaphiratos’s one and only film was worth my time, but when I first tried watching it maybe half a year ago, I just couldn’t get past the non-professional acting, but I am so very glad that I gave it another chance. It’s not what many would call a “good” movie. But it is kind of amazing, and I think I love it.
To give a short, superficial description – Sarah accompanies her boyfriend and his sister to do Christmas at his home in rural Wisconsin with his reclusive, psychic, abstract painter mother and her deer hunting boyfriend. On first meeting, Sarah and the mother experience some mutually unpleasant mental connection, immediately taking against each other, and you know this is going to be an uncomfortable holiday. There’s an immediately unsettling, ominous atmosphere (accomplished via a combination of surprisingly capable cinematography, a blaring soundtrack of weird, warbling synthy twangs and overwhelmingly loud and constant classical music – the climax is set to Carmina Burana – as well as ceaseless wind and nature sounds, and periodic disorienting editing and shots that suddenly appear in negative). This eerie, uncanny vibe builds and builds until the one thing this movie is famous for finally appears – that’s right, a blue, glowing samurai ghost that starts hacking up friends, neighbors, and ultimately, the family itself – seemingly linked to Sarah writhing about on the bed orgasmically. Fortunately, it seems everyone in this family is also psychic – or at least has the ability to make their hands glow and zap samurais with laser blasts – like you do, and in the end, the brother and his sister (who spends an inordinate amount of time running around in the Wisconsin woods at Christmas time in a sleep shirt and leg warmers – give this girl some pants) walk off into the morning light, the threat having been vanquished, if certainly not understood, and Sarah apparently dead under the samurai armor – Merry Christmas everybody!
But that doesn’t do justice to the experience of watching this odd masterpiece, so let’s just boil it all down: a freaking samurai, lasers, Christmas, psychics, abstract painting, an oppressive soundtrack, negative shots, eerie nature photography, peculiar psycho-sexual content, early eighties visual effects that have aged poorly and probably looked bad in 1983, amateurish acting, strained dialogue, a really uncomfortable family visit, bad romantic relationships with pushy, petulant, shouty men, an all-out assault on the notions of logic and causality – maybe that begins to communicate the film slightly better.
Now all of this may sound like “so bad it’s good” territory – and I can see how one might view it as such. It is not, by any means, a “well-made film” and I think people could have a really good time laughing at its faults, non-sequiturs, and absurdities – for all that it is weird and confusing as a summer day is long, I was never bored. My jaw was often hanging open in shock, but I was never less than fully engaged. What’s more, I found it to be so much more than just a “great bad movie.”
Honestly, and I imagine this was largely by accident, I felt it was kind of a great movie in its own right. Watching it, I had such a strong sense of a kind of folk horror – the setting and the atmosphere and the mysterious events all worked for me – and on top of that, I read it as a sort of captivating “naïve art.” Clearly, most of the people involved were not professionals in their positions – many of the actors never performed in anything else before or after this project. The writer-director-composer-editor had written one other film (directed by his dad), but this was his only directorial effort (produced by his dad). The cinematographer, Vladimir Van Maule, was actually quite proficient, but still, through a miscommunication early in the project, he’d thought they were shooting the film for TV and so he filmed it all in 4:3 instead of a more cinematic widescreen, so let’s say there were issues. But all of this lack of experience somehow allowed something weirdly pure to slip through. I think they stumbled backwards and blind into ‘art.’
Sure, these may not have all been professional film workers, but there were strong (sometimes nonsensical, but strong) ideas, there was a real feeling that connected, and there was an odd talent or drive or spirit at the heart of it all that got its hooks into me. And this somehow worked on all levels. For example, when I’d first tried watching this, as mentioned above, I just couldn’t get past the non-professional acting, but on this viewing, it all just seemed so naturalistic and unpretentious. Sure – not every acting choice was the most interesting, but it was so simple, unadorned, and earnest – and it got to me.
On a filmmaking level, it takes some big swings, working with a stylistic freedom that “better” films wouldn’t allow themselves, and there is clearly an eye there. There are very attractive shots and evocative staging that lets the characters speak for themselves, just by inhabiting space, such as one set up in the living room – everyone has something going on and the framing allows it to breathe. Other sequences really sing, such as the first appearance of the samurai, who shows up to slaughter some neighbors as Sarah twists and turns on the bed, panting and moaning. Why is there this sexual connection? Who knows? Why is the husband in the neighbor couple such a jerk to his wife, and why does she put a tray with tea service on the squishiest, least stable waterbed I’ve ever seen – doesn’t she need to sleep there later – is she a fan of sleeping on wet, tea-stained sheets? Their relationship is strained and strange, but still actually believable – sometimes relationships are weird (and these little odd details give their marriage a surprising degree of verisimilitude). The linking of Sarah’s orgasms with the samurai’s violence is utterly bizarre, but it clicks in the moment, and as the editing feverishly jumps back and forth between her arched back and the middle aged husband next door fleeing in his saggy, once white briefs from this mysteriously exotic, eastern killer, it just feels right – strange and baffling, but right.
In the end, it all felt more like successful, if impenetrable, “art” than a ‘bad horror movie.’ But this wasn’t art to communicate meaning. I don’t think there is something to be interpreted in this piece and any discussion of what it all means, for me, is pointless. But it worked – it did something. My mind was enjoyably cracked open by the weirdness, but not so much that I lost interest. Was I moved? Maybe a little. Did I think? Maybe just “why?” But I did clearly have some kind of art experience – let’s say I was transported. Where to? I have no idea, but for a little less than 90 minutes, I was in for the ride and I’m so happy that I took it. It was a worthwhile, totally non-cerebral aesthetic encounter.
Now, as I’m including this as a Christmas movie, just how Christmasy was it? Not a ton perhaps, but it does all revolve around something that can be such a common holiday experience – going with your partner to their family home and not feeling right there. His family has different traditions. You feel his mother is judging you. Your boyfriend ignores your discomfort because for him, all of this is normal, and he keeps trying to initiate sex even though you can feel his mother’s weird psychic presence in the room, watching, thinking the worst – deeming you a tramp, or possibly the reincarnated spirit of a vengeful samurai. And of course, it all ends with katanas, lasers, howling wind, and Carl Orff. You know, Christmas…
It’s a Wonderful Knife (2023)
This delightfully titled Christmas-movie-cum-slasher has oodles of pedigree. It was written by Michael Kennedy, the screenwriter of the playful and moving Freaky (2020), and directed by Tyler MacIntyre, the director of the rather cynical, razor sharp Tragedy Girls (2017). It’s got a great cast, including Joel McHale (Assassination Nation), Justin Long (Barbarian), and Katherine Isabelle (Ginger Snaps). And it’s got a clever, impish, high-concept premise – shuffling together the tropes of a Christmas movie, particularly of a Hallmark channel variety, with those of a masked-killer slasher. It’s a great collection of elements, and it all comes together to be a rather good time, if not particularly groundbreaking or life changing. That said, off the bat, I feel like I’m damning with faint praise, but I did genuinely like watching this movie, even if I do have my criticisms.
I have written before on the emergence of a newish sub-genre/approach – that of the “meta-modern slasher.” Working with a high degree of genre-awareness, these contemporary ‘dead teenager movies’ tend to consciously build on tropes and forms much as “postmodern slashers” such as Scream have done, but with new degrees of both genre play and emotional sincerity. In all cases that I’ve seen, there has been a ‘big idea’: what if Groundhog Day were a slasher? Or Freaky Friday? Or The Purple Rose of Cairo? Or Back to the Future? Or, in this case, a made for TV movie riffing on It’s a Wonderful Life? Working within both the forms of the slasher flick and whatever the given cinematic inspiration was, there is a lot of room for both knowing comedy and brutal kills, and at their best, the two genres complement each other, each bringing out the best in its unlikely counterpart. But what really distinguishes these movies is not the cute idea of pairing two seemingly opposite types of films, but rather, their glowing warmth and good heart. These works tend to offer the thrills of a violent slasher, but the end effect is really never one of horror; rather, they are ultimately stories of reconciliation, of family, of loss and love.
In the case of It’s a Wonderful Knife, I can’t exactly say that both the slasher and the Christmas film are perfectly served by the pairing, or that they are both executed to perfection, but they are both clearly present. Most importantly though, even if there are narrative lapses, unearned character turns, or moments that just didn’t add up for me, I can’t deny this film’s big, loving heart. I’d be lying if I claimed not to have cried by the end of this movie that sees sharpened candy canes shoved through people’s heads, beheadings, impalements, electrocutions, and lots and lots of stabbing (though I admit I was disappointed that at no point did someone pick up the killer’s signature blade and say something like, “I wish he’d stop killing townspeople, but I gotta say, it really is a wonderful knife! (Look at the camera with raised eyebrows! Freeze frame! Roll credits!)
We start with the Hallmark movie – in the picturesque small town of Angel Falls, an unscrupulous real estate developer is making Winnie’s dad work on Christmas Eve as he tries to buy up the last piece of land standing in the way of his new giant shopping center/condos/fill-in-the-blank tower of greed. Winnie and her family are sad about this, but for years, it’s been the norm. Ok – so now we add the slasher: Winnie finds herself facing a masked white angel who has already murdered a couple of her friends, and she unmasks and kills him. Merry Christmas! One year later, everyone in the town has progressed from the dark events of last Christmas and is trying to just dive into the holidays and commit to being happy. Winnie seems to be the only person incapable of moving on (I mean, she is also the only one who had to kill someone last year).
Thus, so distraught in her trauma, so isolated by everyone else’s carefree gaiety, she makes a Christmas wish to have never been born (for me – I believed her misery, but the leap to “everyone would be better off without me” seemed more than a little abrupt – almost perfunctory – to hurry up and get us to the premise – in It’s a Wonderful Life, I’m sure George doesn’t decide to kill himself until well after the 2/3 mark, and in this case, Winnie does so before a third of the movie has passed – and this makes a difference). And suddenly, before any bells ring or angels get their wings, no one in Angel Falls knows who she is anymore, and the no-longer-killed-a-year-ago masked angel slasher is back (since she never dispatched him, he has apparently been killing someone every couple of weeks for the whole last year). What’s more, the town has fallen fully into the grasp of the evil developer – now the mayor, and everything has just gone utterly to hell – like Pottersville on crack – literally – now many of her friends (who no longer know who she is) are junkies – maybe this is all a reference to Community, the show where most first saw Joel McHale – this is the darkest timeline. In an uncharacteristic turn for a whodunit slasher, she knows the angel’s identity, but no one believes her of course, and she has to team up with Bernie (a social outcast with whom she shares some chemistry) to try to set everything right. Along the way, the two girls both learn to value their place in the world, each playing Clarence to the other, as they furthermore fall in love.
Of this recent wave of heartwarming, genre bending, comic slashers (such as The Final Girls, Freaky, Happy Death Day, or Totally Killer), sadly, I can’t call this my favorite, but I did very much enjoy it. It takes some unexpected turns here and there, though so much of it depends on us already knowing how a certain kind of story must progress; many of the characters have a spark, and I just enjoy spending time with them; and the Christmas movie of it all generally lands (as I mentioned, it did get me to cry by the end – though I’m an easy mark) – but if at any time it didn’t, I knew it was ok cause someone was going to get stabbed soon. Also, I did connect with the central romance – there wasn’t necessarily a lot of story to hang it on, but the two lead girls did spark, and it was affecting seeing them connect.
And there were problems as well. Many beats don’t track, some moments left me really scratching my head (glowing eyed hypnotism – huh?), and it often felt rushed. I think the story could have benefited from even an additional ten minutes. It clearly combines the slasher not with Capra’s classic film, but instead with a more superficial spin on it, as get churned out every year for TV or now streaming (I heard in an interview with the director that it was even filmed in a town used for a great deal of Hallmark Channel movies and that much of the crew had worked on such films previously). And yet, I find myself pre-disposed to like it – I want to like it – it is likeable (if clearly flawed) – and so I do like it. Of course, if all of its elements worked a bit better, it could be really special. As it is, it is merely a frolic – a light entertainment that passes a dark, cold December evening with a bit of frothy warmth – an imperfect, but highly watchable 87 minutes, full of character, tons of positive representation (a surprising percentage of named characters being gay and/or people of color and/or people with some physical difference – it’s a very open film in that way), a ticklish idea, and, again, a whole lot of stabbing.
Will I watch it every year? Maybe not – but if it’s on some Christmas time, I wouldn’t object to watching it again.
Black Christmas (2006)
So, I know this was a much beloved and critically praised film when it was released back in 2006… by which I mean, people HATED it. Made right in the middle of the 2000s remake boom, it was everything that the original was not. Whereas the earlier film had been a character driven exercise in building suspense and terror while showing very little, following a group of girls you love spending time with, whose deaths you fear for and mourn, with a killer who is never more than an eye through a crack or a deeply off-putting, horrifically unhinged voice or set of voices on the phone, who we never know or remotely understand (and is all the scarier for it), the remake was a gorefest with thinly drawn, disposable characters who were sometimes difficult to tell apart (even if a few were recognizable, known actresses), filled with drawn out exposition, detailing every moment of the killer’s development, eliciting some gasps of shock or revulsion, but ultimately too incoherent to actually be scary. It was… not loved.
And yet, over the years, I’ve seen it experience a kind of reappraisal. With the distance of time, people have been more willing to look past the comparison with its superior namesake and find value in what it is rather than just slamming it for what it isn’t. Now, I never watched it back in the day, and thought this Christmas horror run down was a good opportunity to finally check it out. So what did I think?
Well, the criticism is not wrong. But neither are the people who adore it.
First of all, I would love, if I had the power, to issue a rule that people must stop naming movies Black Christmas. Bob Clark’s 1974 film is simply too good and anyone naming their new film after it is just shooting themselves in the foot (kind of a horror version of naming your movie Citizen Kane). That was true with this flick, which was actually a remake, taking and repurposing many iconic images, names, and elements from the earlier film (sorority house, Christmas break, weird phone calls, crystal unicorns, snow globes, drunk girls being put in bed to sleep it off, a killer named Billy/Agnes, Andrea Martin, etc.), but it was also true for the 2019, much derided, “remake” in name only – which seemed like a completely different story that some executive had slapped the name Black Christmas onto in order to make a couple extra bucks from name recognition. For the record, I did actually rather enjoy the 2019 film – probably much more than this, but I believe the name really hurt it – and it was so unnecessary given how if it’s actually remaking anything, it’s not Clark’s film, but rather S02E05 of Buffy the Vampire Slayer – “Reptile Boy.” Watch them both and tell me I’m wrong.
But about this movie, I can’t say that I loved it, and I can’t say that its structural issues are insubstantial (there were moments late in the film when I really couldn’t follow what was happening from one moment to the next and it feels like almost a third of its runtime is expository flashback), but amidst what might honestly be deemed a total mess, there is some enjoyable horror to be had.
A classy film this ain’t. Rather, its dubious strengths lie entirely in outré moments of utter, shameless excess, whether in terms of gore, gooey gross outs, or sexual taboo. An incestuous, murderous mother, crispy Christmas cookies made of human skin – disgustingly dipped in a glass of milk before being munched upon, and so, so, so many eye balls pulled out of their sockets and squished or eaten or hung on a Christmas tree as festive ornaments – this movie cannot be accused of gently beating around the bush, too scared to commit to its horrors – advisable or not, it is always willing to “go there.”
And that can be fun. Even if it is often weighed down by its failings as a film writ large, this Black Christmas is an absurd, gross, cringe inducing good time that succeeded a couple of times in making me squirm in my seat when I wasn’t scratching my chin, wondering what on earth was going on. Furthermore, I don’t think it’s a film that could have been “better.” It very much is what it is. For example, the amount of time spent in flashback, giving us a backstory for the killer feels just deadly – how could this interminable exposition possibly go on so long? And just when it seems to have finished, a new character starts it up again and we’re back to another ten minutes of flashbacks. But, honestly, some of the best, most awful stuff is in those overlong flashbacks, so I wouldn’t want to cut them. Babies, bathwater, and such… It’s like the song says, “you take the good, you take the bad, you take them both, and there you have” an abused child growing up to eat his mother and subsequently murder sorority girls for some reason…
So yeah – it’s not great – but there is fun to be had if you’re open to it. I’m not offended that it exists, and it does have some memorable moments of excess – which I always have a warm place in my heart for.
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So maybe that’s a good start on the season. These have been three very entertaining watches, even if none is exactly a classic for the ages. But having covered them, there are so many more seasonal films I still haven’t seen, so I think we’re going to stay on this train for at least one more post. Stay warm out there.