Ho Ho Homicidal Breakdown

Whenever I make a list of famous living people I’d want to have dinner with, few rank higher than John Waters. Aside from the fact that he’s witty, impressively mustache’d, and adorable, he and I also seem to share similar taste in campy (intentional or otherwise) films that tend to polarize audiences. Witness his cameo in Seed of Chucky or his inclusion of Baxter on his 2006 series, John Waters Presents Movies That Will Corrupt You.

Christmas Evil (aka You Better Watch Out), a 1980 low budget production by Lewis Jackson, is, not surprisingly, a favorite of Baltimore’s best loved auteur. He even did a commentary on the special edition DVD (which, naturally, Netflix didn’t mail me...because I’ve been naughty). While this sad and unusual slasher (of sorts) doesn’t quite battle Faye Dunaway covered in Comet, it is a memorable little gem I’m glad to have finally found.

Quick Plot: 

As a young boy, Harry Stadling witnesses Mommy kissing Santa Claus which somehow plants a poisonous poinsettia seed of mixed love & hate for all things xmas. Fastfoward to the present, where the now middle-aged Harry (Brandon Maggart) works in a toy factory churning out subpar action figures. This is the low point of his day, as the other 18 hours are devoted to December 25th. Sleeping in Santa pjs, calisthenics to carols, and, most charmingly, keeping pristine records of which actions qualify a neighborhood child for placement on the Naughty and Nice list keep Harry smiling. And twinkling, which he seems to do every time he winks in the mirror. It’s quite adorable.

Sadly for Harry, nobody in New Jersey shares his unadulterated enthusiasm and finally, following a painfully drab office party, Harry decides to spruce up the season by delivering a few sleigh (or van)-fulls of toys to needy hospitalized children and performing impressive dance steps at strangers’ VFW parties. All is well and good until Harry decides to loiter in front of church just as the rowdy midnight mass crowd exits. Unable to take the snooty insults from strangely British Christians, Harry finally snaps in a gloriously homicidal fashion.

Christmas Evil predates Silent Night, Deadly Night by several years, but though it may seem, on the surface, as though the latter ripped off this thriller, the films are hardly on the same page. Where SN,DN is more mean-spirited ‘80s slasher, Christmas Evil is a thoughtfully sad, truly unique little delving into an unbalanced man’s mind. Think Taxi Driver, set during the holiday season and deep fried in gingerbread. If that doesn’t sound appealing, then you’re the biggest grinch of them all.

High Points

A kids-protecting-Santa scene took me back to a much loved, if not very good Christmas movie of the past, The Christmas That Almost Wasn’t, wherein the children of a small town save the big guy by paying his rent

Boy is Harry a dedicated role player! Not only does he try his darnest to squeeze down a chimney, he also restricts most of his weaponry to objects of the season, such as tree ornaments and sacks of toys. His attention to detail is more than admirable.

It’s an easy sight gag that can’t help but put a smile on your face: several rounds of police lineups with Santa Clauses. The Usual Suspects, you’ve been served (eggnog).

Maggart is surprisingly sympathetic in what could easily have been an Eric Freeman SN/DN2  caliber role. While he seems to have had a successful career guesting on TV shows (including the Snapple Lady starring sitcom Babes!), it’s disappointing that Braggart didn’t find more work in genre films

Low Points

Some might quibble with the grainy and stained transfer, but the poor quality of the images actually worked for the film, lending a rescued-from-the-garbage heap feel that felt appropriate

So aside from being mentally unbalanced, what actually made Harry so pre-inclined to murderous rampages? Watching Santa Claus run his hands over Mom’s garters?

SPOILER

SPOILER

SPOILER

At first viewing, I found the final image wonderfully magical and charmingly surreal. Then I read some discussion about the film describing how many people don’t realize that the “flying” is preceded by the clear sound of a car crash and thus, the sleigh transformation is actually symbolic of Harry dying. I’ve decided to completely ignore that “sound effect” or assume that’s just the noise his brother would make when rolling down a hill because you know what? I want to believe in miracles.

END OF SPOILER

Lessons Learned

If you give your son a name as stupid as Moss, you will be punished with raising a brat. And later marrying Tim the Tool Man Taylor.

The most dangerous member of an angry mob is the Cruella DeVille lookalike with the holly pin

New Jersey is home to unruly mobs itching to vengefully roam the streets with torches

How to Earn a Place on the Naughty List: 

Be a braggart

Tell fibs

Think impure thoughts

Have bad breath

How to Earn a Place on the Nice List:

Be just darling

Winning Line

“I have very superlative taste,” says Harry’s first victim while exiting church. I had to rewind this moment several times to confirm it, then giggle for a few minutes, and finally, try to figure out if it made grammatical sense and why a man would utter it while meeting a dirty St. Nick.

Rent/Bury/Buy

I fell in love with the oddness of this film, but it's certainly not a universal stocking stuffer. The first hour or so is more a tragic portrait of a man somewhere between Pee-Wee Herman and The Office's Kevin Malone, while the turning point sends Christmas Evil into early slasher territory with ornamental implements of messy destruction. Fans of holiday horror or bizarrely unusual genre-crossing cinema may do well to ask for the Special Edition to find its way under their tree, but those who prefer standard and slick cut-'em-ups may be left as baffled as a white person at Kwanza.

You Better Watch Out!...Even though you can't actually see

After the gloriously awful debacle that was Silent Night, Deadly Night 2, I imagine the franchise’s producing studio decided to tread lightly by ditching the controversial axe-wielding Santa Claus in favor of a tamer, “psychologically” menacing thriller more fitting of the turn of the decade. Gone was Garbage Day and abhorrent nuns. In was the dangers of hitchhiking and itty bitty scalpals.

Oh, and a whole lot of boredom littered with future minor celebrities, dangerously tight jeans, and snotty blind girls with mouths in need of Life Buoy soap.

Quick Plot: It’s been six years since the Garba--er, Christmas massacre committed by Richard “Ricky” Caldwell. A nefariously experimental scientist has kept the man formerly of expressive eyebrows (now embodied by a young Bill Mosely doped up on NyQuil) in a vegetive state, his head opened with a clear plastic beanie covering his brain in a manner reminiscent of Dr. Badvibes on the early ‘90s animated series C.O.P.S. Dr. Newberry tries to understand more about the operations of comatose victims by sending a vaguely psychic, extremely bratty blind teenager named Laura into Ricky’s subconscious. 

While there, Laura gets to relive a few highlights from the original film, including the infamous Santa car trouble/mother rape that was observed by the infant-aged Ricky in perfectly clear close-up. I’m somewhat forgiving of sequels that rely on flashbacks because you often need to guide viewers new to the series, but is it too much to ask for a sequence that a character actually witnessed? Especially when the entire point is to show the memories of our main villain, currently being seen by our new “protagonist?”

Moving on, Jenny--who happens to have been orphaned in a tragic plane crash, which I suppose is intended to provide us with sympathy for a hugely unlikable heroine--heads to grandma’s house for the holidays, hitching a ride with her big brother Chris (he who possesses an immaculate perm and even godlier furball of a chest) and new girlfriend Jerry (pre-Mulholland Drive amnesiac Laura Harring). Grandma, by the way, lives a fairy tale existence in a gingerbread house, wearing a Christmas decoration worthy bun while basting a juicy turkey, baking a gooseberry pie, and feeding random strangers with big heads and blank stares.

Yup, said silent caroler is none other than Ricky and eventually--reeeeeeeally eventually, after lots of forced conversation plus a rendezvous with a way-too-cheerful detective attempting to sell his partner a phone plan--the scrappy orphans engage in a slow and suspensless showdown with the non-Santaesque mental patient.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Sorry. I fell asleep and dreamt I worked at a magazine printing plant inserting those subscription renewal tabs inside each issue. It was so much more interesting.

I didn’t quite care for this entry in the Caldwell saga, mostly because it was just so...blah. Nary a sacred sacrament of the yule season is abused, and the only real reference to Ricky’s initial inspiration comes with a brief flashback. Unlike part 1 or something like Christmas Evil, there’s no mention of the “naughty” list and thus no real motivation for our killer to slay. He just shambles through pleasant winter weather seeking a woman we can’t even stand. 

It’s admirable enough that filmmaker Monte Hellman tried to put the story back on track with an actual script, but there’s just nothing to enjoy about Silent Night, Deadly Night III. The coma angle isn’t itself uninteresting, but we’ve seen it done to better effect in films like Bad Dreams  (which itself isn’t even that good of a film), while the kills are limited to gunshots and mild stabbings. Bah ho-hum. 

High Points

This is probably more of an oversight or budget restriction, but in an age of standard and overused sound cues, I actually appreciated the silence of some of the ‘scarier’ scenes

Low Points

It’s a minor quibble in a film rich in low points, but how dare a sequel that follows “2” then switch its title to the roman numeral III format? Like recasting Eric Freeman wasn’t bad enough!

I haven't wanted to punch a lead character so much since Natalie Portman helped destroy the Star Wars universe with her valium-induced performance

Lessons Learned

Being blind is no reason to not have impeccable make-up skills

The best way to find a missing grandmother is to get naked and take a soapy bath with your new girlfriend

It’s easier to survive a brutal stabbing than ten seconds of strangulation, but a knife wound is far more lethal than a few gunshots. Think of it like rock/paper/scissors, but less sensical

Upon meeting a blind person, the first conversational query should not be “So, how long have you considered yourself handicapped?”

Hospitals should probably require emergency contact numbers from their outpatients

Psychologists who decorate their offices like tropical rain forests may produce schizophrenic flashes in their patients’ fragile minds

Untrained actors can best act blind by squinting and tensing their lip muscles

Rent/Bury/Buy

Silent Night, Deadly Night 3 is now available in a triple pack with parts IV & V, so any completist will want to purchase the set solely for nostalgia. If memory serves, the next two films are far more enjoyable than this rather bland entry, so skip Part III and devote 90 minutes instead to more noble pursuits, such as building a mutant killer snowman or watching the 7 minute Garbage Day scene on loop.

There's really no better way to spend your time this December.

Clip your coupons & make your will...

There was a time in my past when six hours spent in a shopping mall was just about the most incredibly magical way a Saturday could be spent. Thankfully, I'm no longer a 14 year old suburbanite and now dedicate weekends to more noble pursuits (such as watching gems like Jack Frost 2 and The Stabilizer) and reserve department store excursions solely for updating zombie survival blueprint plans. While I wouldn't mind shuffling my way past Cinnabon and Game Stop free of charge during martial law, a shopping spree now seems more odious than a dentist's appointment in October.

So rather than haul myself to Macy's for the yet-to-be-started holiday shopping, I'm spending my Friday Pop Syndicate column browsing a few great (and not-so-good) horror titles set in...you know. Where the dead go when hell gets crowded on Black Friday.

Come for a read and stay for the Orange Julius.

Otherwise you face the wrath of Nazi made toad-eating elves. And really, who needs that when you haven't even begun wrapping?

There's a Party In My Armpit and Everyone's Invited!

Since flu season/a month of chocolate covered Santas is upon us, it seemed appropriate to revisit the work of a man who always makes me thankful for the body I've got. Sure, I may have a tickle in my throat and lack the Ivory Soap sanctioned skin of Marilyn Chambers, but at least you won't find an Ironside-sized headache spinning my brain or vaginal VHS insertion strip growing out of my stomach.

And so, to celebrate December, I give you David Cronenberg’s Rabid. 

Don’t look at me like that. The film has snow. And a smoking elf. Plus pornography, popped collars, and plastic surgery. What could be more seasonal?

Quick Plot: A young couple on a motorcycle flip themselves into a nasty accident but thankfully--or not--they land close to the Keloid Center, a plastic surgery clinic on the cutting (moohahaha) edge of experimentation. Driver Hart Read is treated and sent home but girlfriend Rose (Marilyn Chambers) is worse for the wear. Operations are needed, which is a bonus for Dr. Keloid, a talented surgeon itching to try out some new skin graphing technology on the unsuspecting patient.

A month or so later, the comatose Rose awakens to find a concerned doctor at her bed. Rather than call for help or morphine, she nuzzles the man into a bloody mess, later sneaking out for a little more off-premises squeezing from any creature she can get (grizzled alcoholic farmer, nonconsenting cow, etc). As we follow a few of her victims, it becomes clear that Rose is a Typhoid Mary of sorts, spreading a new strain of gooey green rabies all throughout the land of mounties and maple syrup.

Rabid marks the second full-length horror feature from David Cronenberg, and it makes a perfectly fine (although highly infectious) partner to his 1974 shocker Shivers. Both films take a deep and fluid-covered look at a toxic, almost zombie-esque disease spread through close (often suggestively sexual) human contact,. Like George Romero’s The Crazies, Rabid integrates some of the potential fear factor of martial law and the breakdown of society in the face of nearsighted scientific advancement (even mall Santa himself falls victim to what happens in a shoot-first-ask-questions-later kind of world), while the smaller-scaled Shivers kept the action inside one prime-meat filled apartment complex.

Neither film represents the best of Cronenberg’s canon, but both Shivers and Rabid offer prime looks at one of cinema’s most innovative filmmakers getting his start. With Rabid, Canada’s least shy director delves into the human body with what would become a trademarked sense of current advancements blending into the organic organism and creating a monster completely of its own. Sex and violence unabashedly coat each frame, but nothing feels gratuitous, nor is it pretentious in issuing any outright verdicts on medical practices or societal relations. While we can easily read Rabid as a sort of pre-meditation on plastic surgery and the AIDS crisis, it’s just as easy to sit back and wait for the next infected attack. 

High Points

Although she doesn’t quite get enough to do, Marilyn Chambers gives a nicely understated performance that 
proves the occasional stunt casting can work perfectly well when the actor in question still fits the bill

Few directors can stage such suspenseful surgery as Cronenberg. The ear lifting scene here doesn't quite rival Jeremy Irons' homemade scalpels and gynecological treatment in Dead Ringers, but it does cause for a quite a little squirming


Naturally, Cronenberg doesn't disappoint when it comes to the twisted aspects of body horror. Even though we’re now aware that Rose is stabbing or bleeding the men and women she grabs, it’s still quite shocking to get our first glimpse of (SPOILER ALERT) the sharply phallic armpit sword inside one nasty and poorly placed vaginal opening

Low Points

Like a lot of Cronenberg characters, Rose is drawn rather thin. Perhaps this was intentional in making her a less specific person, but it’s hard to know how to feel about Rose’s changed behavior when we don’t know a thing about her life before the accident.


In a combination of a stale character and a dull performance, Frank Moore's Read brings the film to a slow and creaky halt every time he takes center stage

Lessons Learned

Hitchhiking is a great way to meet some very kind drivers' license carriers in Canada. Likewise, traffic cops north of the border are just so darn nice.

Smooth Eddy always looks good

It's hard enough to pick up a woman when you're dressed like an elf, so always be sure to pack some sort of conversation incentive. Cigarettes help (in the '70s), but one can't really expect full wooing without a light


A good trucker never hits a man with glasses

If you’re looking to meet men at a porno theater, make sure you buy a small popcorn to share (even if you can’t actually eat any pieces yourself)

Rent/Bury/Buy

Any genre fan has something of a responsibility to fully absorb the horrifically headiness of Cronenbergia, and Rabid is worth a watch on that premise alone. It’s not nearly as frightening as the masterful buildup of The Brood or quite as intelligent as something like Videodrome, but Rabid is still a fascinating ride into an intelligently rich cinema with a very specifically Cronenbergian twist. The DVD includes a filmmaker commentary, as well as a candid nterview which is really just one more excuse to hear Cronenberg discuss his early films, Canadian censorship, and the casting of Chambers. Stick the film on your queue and save it for one of those movie nights when you want something a little smarter than your average genre flick, yet still feel like watching zombie-esque vampiric Canadians chomp on straphangers and station wagon-driving chauffeurs.

Slaughterhouse Santa

Words don’t express how sad I am that I’ve gone 27 December 25ths without seeing Don’t Open ‘Til Christmas, but that’s what Mill Creek 50 packs were made for. And along with the soon-to-be-purchased boxed set of Silent Night, Deadly Night 3-5, I now have a new film to add to my annual yuletide viewing. Good thing the Muppet’s 2008 holiday special was rather lame. Not lame enough for Santa to be killed by a pocket-knife wielding psycho, but just under the bar set by Michael Kane, a Fraggle crossover, and Scooter in a go-go cage for Don’t Open ‘Til Christmas to claim its place under my tree.

Quick Plot: There’s a murderer on the loose in London and his targets laugh like a bowl full of jelly, sometimes while chit chatting with sex workers or humorously riding bicycles. An unnecessary and rather inconsistent prologue follows a young necking couple parked in public in the middle of the night (no shot of the street sign reading Lovers’ Lane) as they meet their end by a guy seeming to hold a knife and camera. It’s actually an impressive feat of balance, although the fact that throughout the film, the killer only stalks Santa Clauses and this opening murder makes absolutely no sense in context is something we’ll brush aside in the name of prologue.

Meanwhile, the coolest people I’ve ever seen on film are having a total Halloween-esque costume party to welcome the Christmas season, but sadly, festivities are cut short when the host is stabbed in the back of the head in front of all to see. A few more polyester white beard clad impostors are knocked off in a grab bag of styles, including gunshot, shoe knife slices, castration while urinating, and, in a stroke of true Kris Kringly genius, face roasting on an open fire (previously used to warm chestnuts, of course).

Now, I realize there was no widespread Internet in the 1980s as Al Gore had not yet sought a patent, but I’ve seen my share of spinning newspaper reels to know the general public should have been fairly aware that a serial killer was hungry for a very particular type of victim. So. Why, oh why, would one continue to travel the streets in a red velour jumpsuit? Is the call of St. Nick stronger than that of the Pony Express? It’s an unanswered question in a film that doesn’t really demand anything, so I’ll let this go because, you know what? I loved this movie, and an informed public would imply less dead Santas.

Our main heroine is the rich daughter of the first slain St. Nick, although she gets some stiff competition from Experience Girl (or so the IMDB listing credits her; I'd love to harp on the insanity of this naming, but then I'd forget that Kelly Baker was also in Slaughter High , so we'll move on) who works in what I guess is an old time nudie booth, here portrayed as a store window with prison-style phones for chatting and the option of boobs. There’s also Cliff, (Gerry Sundquist), a flute playing fashion photographer and (according the the trailer) Number One Suspect, and the skeevy Inspector Harris, played by director Edmund Purdom (clearly a man of many talents). We don’t have any reason to like any of them, but by the time the killer reveals his tormented self, the audience is having more fun than a spangly dressed elf gulping eggnog on a strobe-lit disco floor.  

High Points

Am I getting soft, or was the first shot of the plastic mask somewhat unnerving?

The final flashback, wherein we discover the motive for our killer’s hatred of all things tinseled, is absolutely incredible. By that, I mean it makes the death of Billy’s parents in the original Silent Night, Deadly Night look like Citizen Kane...which is sooooooo much less exciting than the intense use of slow motion and echoed sound cues utilized by Purdom here

You have to love a film released in 1984 that still managed to sneak in a complete disco number, performed, no less, by genre fave (and also Slaughter High graduate) Caroline Munro

Low Points

It’s hard to really spot them since this is the kind of movie where all the “bad” aspects (such as the humorously overdramatic score) make it so much fun to watch. I suppose the biggest annoyance is the fact that for the first hour, the only murdered victims are total strangers and thus, we’re less invested in their deaths than we are shopping for a Secret Santa in the office whose name we’re lucky to remember

A somewhat suspenseful and drawn-out cat-and-mouse chase with a gang-fearing Santa Claus in a toy factory has a rather humbug payoff

Lessons Learned

Models should never be photographed too much for fear of being overexposed. This may have been a cute dumb blond pun, but it doesn't really work when the actress has a lower IQ and sense of wordplay than the dumb blond she's portraying

Men with perms do not instill fear upon a 21st century audience

When expressing that you’re “bloody furious,” it's far more effective when you show the slightest trace of emotion in your voice

Murderous Christmas-hating psychotics have mastered the art of smizing (trademarked by Tyra Banks for “smiling with your eyes”)

Time flies really fast when you’re being chased by a serial killer. It can go from night to sunny daylight in the snap of your finger!


Most women are surprisingly not excited by the idea of sapphic photo shoots in Santa suits (particularly when they're mourning the murder of a family member while he happened to be dressed as such)

Repeated Confirmation of a Previous Theory

Staircases are the most lethal type of architecture one can encounter in everyday life...at least in the movies. I’ve fallen up and down many a stairway in my life, so either I’m doing something right or film characters are incredibly brittle.

Winning Line

“They’ll think we’re a couple of gays!” worries the male lead when his lady friend, dressed festively with no underthings, tries to make out in front of teenagers in a dark alleyway. Yes, that’s far more horrifying than the known madmen loose on the streets whom you’ve already witnessed kill a man.

Rent/Bury/Buy

I would never advise someone to spend more than, I don’t know, hot dog money on this film but I enjoyed the Christmas bells out of it. It’s bad in an epic way that’s incredibly watchable, with impressive and creative gore spilled throughout. I’m lucky enough to have it in my Mill Creek Drive-In Classics movie pack, which means you can probably find a copy for peanuts. Is it worth it? You’ll know how you feel about his film based on the tagline:

...t'was the night before Christmas, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring...they were all dead!

True merriment at its best.