Black Christmas (1974)

Director: Bob Clark
Writer(s): Roy Moore
Starring: Olivia Hussey, Keir Dullea, Margot Kidder, and John Saxon

The first time I saw Bob Clark's Black Christmas was a few year's back, when I was going through one of my “blood and gore” movie phases. Even though I'm not a huge fan of slashers in general, my friend loves them, and this is one of this favorite movies of all time, so I wanted to see what it was all about. While our tastes in movies differ quite frequently, I figured it couldn't be that bad; considering the movie's almost complete lack of blood and gore, I walked away from the viewing with the bad taste of severe disappointment in my mouth. It also ruined our friendship, as we refused to speak to each other over the incident for several months (okay, this part didn't really happen, but it could have).

Flash forward to 2019: I was in the mood for both a Christmas movie, as well as a horror one, and after browsing for far too long, eventually settled on a re-viewing of this one. This time, I would be accompanied by my lovely wife, who had never seen it before; I was also accompanied by an open mind, eager to give the film a second chance that everyone deserves...and boy am I glad I did.

The plot is actually a near-masterpiece in simplicity, with most of the action taking place entirely in one location: as the all-female residents of the Pi Kappa Sigma sorority house party down with one another for the holidays, an unseen killer hides in the shadows of the attic, coming down only to spy on—and eventually kill—the unsuspecting women, and ratcheting up the tension by placing obscene calls after each kill.

I can definitely see where the younger me was disappointed, because even by slasher standards, the gore is very weak, confined mainly to post-murder shots; considering a big part of the attention it receives, even today, is as an early example of the popular subgenre, it really heightens the expectations of gruesome and gory set-pieces. Instead, the kills in Black Christmas play second fiddle to the atmosphere, which is brilliantly ratcheted up between the intentionally-muted murders, thanks to some genuinely creepy stalking scenes (watch for the killer's shadow in the background of some shots); an excellent, atonal score from frequent Bob Clark collaborator Carl Zittrer; vulgar phone calls that pull no punches; and a gutsy ending that intentionally leaves a plethora of questions unanswered.

It's only during the times the story is forced to wander outside the house that it loses some of its momentum, and a large part of its claustrophobic atmosphere, something that's required with more frequency as the body count grows and the number of survivors starts to dwindle. One gets the feeling that the scenes outside of the house are there strictly for padding, an idea at least partially given some credit by director Bob Clark himself, who admitted that the drama between Jess and her boyfriend over what to do with an unborn child was only inserted to give the characters something to do between kills. With that kind of admittance, it's not hard to believe that virtually every other scene and character not affiliated with the sorority itself was given the same lack of attention.

Fans of traditional slasher movies and/or blood and gore will be no doubt disappointed, as I was on my first viewing, but those willing to go into the movie with Mr. Clark's own mindset—that this is a tale of psychological horror rather than a “body count” movie—will find a deliciously evil treat for the holidays.

RATING: 7.5/10

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Black Christmas (2006)

Director: Glen Morgan
Writer(s): Morgan and Roy Moore
Starring: Michelle Trachtenberg, Mary Elizabeth Winestead, Lacey Chabert, and Katie Cassidy

My now-wife, but then-girlfriend, and I had only been dating for a couple of months before we made the dubious decision to spend our first Christmas together attending a screening of Glen Morgan’s awful Black Christmas remake.  Thankfully, it served as a bonding event, as we both enjoyed some terrible gas station food that she snuck in her purse while we made fun of all the incompetence on display.  Not surprisingly, we were two of the only people there (there might have been one or two other couples, if there was even anyone else at all), because I guess a bad horror movie opening on Christmas Day doesn’t spell immediate box office success.

So I knew going in to a rescreening almost a decade later just how bad Black Christmas is, and time has not at all dulled the edges of what makes this such an unforgivable mess.  Based on a classic horror movie with the same name, from none other than Bob (A Christmas Story) Clark, writer/director Glen Morgan (from Final Destination fame) seems intensely hell-bent on completely destroying the memory of the original in any way that he can.  This clearly isn’t the work of someone who is remaking a movie that they deeply respect; it’s the work of someone who is clearly just trying to earn a paycheck.

The plot is similar to the original, in that a psychotic madman is stalking the inhabitants of a sorority, and offing them one-by-one.  Then, the actresses playing each victim are forced to spend the better part of the next ten years starring in films on either the Lifetime or Hallmark channels.  And that’s really as far as we need to go with the plot, because once things start firing on “all cylinders” (which in this case is no more than one), it’s just one person getting killed right after another.

I’m not at all a fan of the original, which has somehow achieved the status of at least “minor classic”, but when compared to this, it looks like the greatest horror movie ever made.  The characters in this remake are some of the dumbest ever committed to screen; it’s sincerely baffling to me that Glen Morgan would put his name anywhere near the finished product.  But that he proudly displays his name as both writer and director could be seen as a fearless act of defiance; however, I’m more inclined to assume that Morgan had no idea how atrocious this atrocity is, which makes it more a case of oblivious ignorance.

None of the people display even a basic understanding of common sense: Countless times throughout the movie, someone will hear a noise and, no matter how unlikely it is that someone should be there, they will go search for the cause of the sound.  It’s not lost on me that this happens many times in horror movies, but it’s Morgan’s go-to device for murders.  Maybe the killer is smart after all; he knows all he has to do is make a noise, wait, and he doesn’t even have to waste the time stalking any of his victims, because if he’s loud enough, they will come right to him, no matter how much common sense would tell these women to run.

Of course, we learn the killer’s backstory and motives, apparently so Morgan can make sure to remove every possible ounce of ambiguity or mystery or creepiness.  Much of the backstory is rather crude, and unnecessarily over-the-top; it strives for shocks, but it only ends up being shocking for the simple sake of having to be, because it has no other tricks up its sleeve.  Once these scenes wear away, all we’re left with are a series of women getting offed one-by-one, by a killer whose identity we already know.

The only thing it has going for it are a couple of the kill scenes, which manage to be interesting and splattery even while simultaneously being incredibly stupid and (often) predictable).  But even they can’t come close to singlehandedly carrying this film from one tired cliché on to the next one—it’s only 86 minutes long, and can’t even convincingly spread itself out to that length.

Remakes are constantly the focal point of intense hatred from horror fans, and one needs to look no farther than films like this one to understand why.  It’s nothing more than a lazy cash grab from everyone involved; not only does it add nothing new to the original, but somehow ends up subtracting from it.  Bob Clark’s vision at least kept the film grounded in reality and mystery; here, all we have are a bunch of Hollywood has-been’s (or will-never-be’s) exchanging cringe-inducingly awful dialogue before voluntarily walking into their own murders.  No thanks.

RECAP: Achingly awful. If you like the original, steer clear of this one.  If you hated the original, steer clear of this one.  Can almost be watchable if you’re under the heavy influence of drugs or alcohol, but if you’re even close to sober, there is absolutely no reason to support the filmmakers for putting out such half-hearted dreck.  Exactly the kind of films that rightfully give remakes a bad name.

RATING: 1/10

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