Christmas Evil (1980)

Director: Lewis Jackson
Writer(s): Jackson
Starring: Brandon Maggart, Jeffrey Demunn, and Dianne Hull

There are quite a few—many would say too many—horror movies that are inspired by, or take place during, Christmas.  But most of them don’t take themselves too seriously; using the term “lighthearted” might be a bit of a stretch, but even a film like Silent Night, Deadly Night, which was pulled early from its theatrical run due to parental protests concerning its violent subject matter, amounts to little more than campy amateurishness.

What really caught my attention about Lewis Jackson’s Christmas Evil was the assurance from several sources that it takes itself with complete seriousness.  I didn’t really know how to take that at the time (was it just a straightforward slasher movie, with all elements of humor removed?) but after having just watched it, I can only say that this has to be one of the most unique of all Christmas horrors; a film that strives for equal parts sympathy and pathos for its mentally disturbed star, and actually manages to elicit both.

Before we go any further, I should mention that anyone looking for a holiday bloodbath, or even a slasher film at all, would do best to just turn around, start walking, and never look back.  Sure, it’s billed as a slasher film, and it does have a couple murders, but that’s only because everything has to be labeled these days.  And if it doesn’t fit snugly into a specific genre, it’s just lumped into whatever category will make it the most money. 

Christmas Evil opens to a house on Christmas Eve in, 1947, where young Harry, his brother Philip, and their mother huddle on a staircase, watching Santa Claus as he comes down the chimney, and puts their presents under the tree.  When the two brothers go to bed soon thereafter, younger Philip informs Harry that was their father in the costume, a simple fact that Harry refuses to accept.

Flash forward to the “present day”, which in this case, is 1980.  Harry is now grown up and living alone; when we see his living quarters completely decorated in Christmas paraphernalia, we can only assume it is this way all year long.  His mind is always caught up in Christmas, so perhaps it’s not that surprising that he has a high-ranking job in a toy manufacturing plant, and that he watches neighbor kids with binoculars, and makes notes about which of them are naughty, and which of them are nice.

Much of the film’s effectiveness is garnered from its refreshing unpredictability—Harry just honestly wants to spread joy to everyone.  He is mentally disturbed, but he’s not some psycho that’s simply out patrolling the streets with the intent to kill; he wants everyone to revel in the spirit and the atmosphere of Christmas.  Now, to be clear, he’s not above the occasional murder, but when he does resort to violence, it’s sudden and shocking, rather than drawn out and expected (the first murder came up so abruptly that my jaw virtually hit the floor).  Having the murders take a backseat to the story is a welcome change from your average horror film, and one that makes the violent sequences sting that much more.

It’s also helped along by Brandon Maggart’s strong, vulnerable performance as Harry.  Actually, a majority of the performances are strong, but Maggart’s borders on the heartbreaking; the quiet scenes of him alone in his house reach a level of poignancy that few horror films would ever even attempt to achieve.  Harry’s clearly out of his mind, but his heart is in the right place, leading to a moral tug-of-war for the viewer—we realize that he needs help, but at the same time he is so sincere in his kindness and generosity that it almost wanders into a gray area.

Speaking of unexpected, nothing could possibly brace you for the ending, which is so out of left-field that you will either love it or hate it: there’s absolutely no middle ground.  At first--before it had even fully registered, and while I was still regaining my senses—I admired it for its audacity, but as it absorbed in my mind, it really grew on me.

Now, in a work this original, it’s only inevitable that not everything works.  Once the police start getting involved, for instance, it kind of ruins the fantasy aspect (like it would really be that hard for cops to track down a windowless white van with a huge sleigh hand-painted on it).  The second murder sequence, though not entirely bereft of originality, stretches the limits of believability a little too far (short of a coma, no way a wife could sleep through that), while also muddling the film’s message a little bit.

But out of the new Christmas movies I’ve seen this year, horror or otherwise, Christmas Evil is the only one that I could see becoming an occasional holiday tradition for me.  In avoiding the typical horror tropes and by wearing its heart on its sleeve, it somehow manages to sympathetically capture a man desperate to cling to the innocence of Christmas, no matter the cost.

RECAP: Closer to a drama than a slasher film (as it’s marketed), Lewis Jackson’s Christmas Evil is a surprising gem of holiday horror.  Brandon Maggart’s strong performance as Harry Stradling, a mentally-handicapped (and traumatized) man who dedicates his life to spreading the Christmas spirit is surprisingly heartbreaking, and there are several brilliant ideas at play here.  It does start to fizzle out once the police start to get involved, but an audaciously original (and unexpected) ending finishes things off on a strong note.  Those looking for a steady supply of blood and gore will be sorely disappointed, but when violence is used, it’s often quick and shocking.  On a side note, look for Patricia Richardson (of “Home Improvement” fame) as the mother of one of the naughty boys on Harry’s list!

RATING: 7.5/10

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Miracle on 34th Street (1946)

Director: George Seaton
Writer(s): Seaton, based on a story by Valentine Davies
Starring: Edmund Gwenn, Maureen O'Hara, John Payne, and Natalie Wood

Miracle on 34^th Street is the best all-around Christmas movie ever made.  Sure, there are movies that are a lot more fun, or movies that are funnier and goofier, but there is no movie that exudes the true spirit of Christmas quite like this one.  It doesn’t have to resort to over-the-top performances by a famous actor to force-feed you holiday cheer, like It’s a Wonderful Life—it starts off with a very simple idea, and cleverly wrings every last drop of hope and cheerfulness out of it.

In other words, it avoids the syrupy sentimentality that plagues many of the other “classics”, instead presenting its story with an earnest straightforwardness and clever subtlety.  It has an agenda, of course—after all, it is a Christmas movie—but it’s understatedness never feels like it’s pushing our nose in it, or forcing it down our throats.  It’s just letting its story unfold, allowing us to feel like the children do as each little detail is revealed.

It all begins rather innocently: Doris Walker is a special events director for Macy’s, her main role consisting of organizing their famous Thanksgiving Day parade.  A bearded man complains to her that the hired Santa Claus is drunk on the job mere moments before it is to begin.  She promptly fires him, then asks the bearded man if he would want to step in as replacement.  At first he is hesitant, but all it takes is one look at all the hopeful children to get him to change his mind.

His appearance goes over so well, that he is given the job as Santa in the actual department store.  He offends his supervisor, toy department head Julian Shellhammer, by informing parents where to buy their toys, even if Macy’s does not carry them, or they are sold out, actions that clearly go against his directives.  But just as Shellhammer is about to complain to his superiors, he learns that the Santa’s unorthodox methods are actually winning over the customers—soon, their competitors vow to also put the customers interests, instead of their profits, first.  

Things sure sound like they’re going swell, but there surely has to be some kind of resistance, or else we wouldn’t have much of a movie—sure enough, this new Santa, who goes by the name of Kris Kringle—creates a fuss simply because he adamantly maintains that he is the real Santa Claus!  What’s refreshing about this turn is that he doesn’t turn the whole world against him; many people actually defend him, even if only on the grounds that, whether or not he is telling the truth, it doesn’t take away the fact that he is a generous, kindhearted man.

The main holdouts are Ms. Walker (the recently departed Maureen O’Hara) and her young daughter, Susan (Natalie Wood).  The elder Walker acknowledges that she has prevented Susan from believing anything outside the known realms of “reality”; it’s gotten to the point that she even refuses to play with the (assumedly) poorer neighbor kids, who have to resort to using their imaginations in the games that they play. 

Meanwhile, following an accusation of lunacy from a quack psychiatrist, Kris is put on trial.  If he loses, he will be committed to a mental institution, while if he wins, the world will know he is Santa Claus.  But how can you prove to the faithless that you are the real thing?

It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see where this is headed, or how it’s all going to play out.  We know going in that he’s the real deal, and we know that he is going to win the case.  We also know that he will eventually get Doris and little Susan to change their minds.  We know that the quack doctor will eventually get what’s coming to him.  But this is one of those ultra-rare instances where knowing every nuance of the screenplay does nothing to deter the excitement of watching it all unfold.  There’s a wry humor throughout, and just a warmhearted tenderness to everything that I couldn’t help but smile and giggle at several scenes. 

Forget the overhyped, disgustingly theatrical It’s a Wonderful Life, which has somehow become the sole benchmark for holiday films—Miracle on 34th Street is as good as Christmas movies get.  I have to admit that the final “proof” of Santa Claus existing during the trial was a little underwhelming, especially given the high quality level of writing throughout the rest, but it does little to detract from the above statement.  If you want a movie that naturally elicits an emotional response instead of wasting all its resources trying to force you into one, look no further than this little number.

RECAP: A holiday movie that transports you back to the freewheeling carelessness of childhood, Miracle on 34^th Street is a delightful Christmas movie that doesn’t rely on tired gimmicks, hammy overacting (I’m looking at you, James Stewart), or forced sentiment to tell its story, and that’s precisely why this is the greatest holiday movie ever made.  Edmund Gwenn is perfect as Kris Kringle, while the writing is also top-notch.  This is my pick for all-time Christmas classic, far destroying the overhyped and overly sentimental cornball crapfest It’s a Wonderful Life.

RATING: 9.5/10

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Rare Exports: A Christmas Tale (2010)

Director: Jalmari Helander
Writer(s): Helander, based on an original idea by Helander and Juuso Helander.
Starring: Jorma Tommila, Peeter Jakobi, Onni Tommila, and Tommi Korpela

The blending of horror and Christmas really isn’t anything new: from Bob Clark’s Black Christmas all the way back in 1974, up through the Silent Night, Deadly Night slasher series in the ‘80s, there have always been movies that have treated the holiday as just another day to kill unsuspecting college students.  Much in the way chocolate-covered pretzels work by blending salty and sweet, so to does the horror/Christmas connection—why not take the happiest day of the year (for many) and turn it into something horrifying?

Enter Rare Exports, a Norwegian film that not only aims to prove that Santa exists, but that, rather than rewarding the good, he and his elves instead spend Christmas Day punishing the naughty ones.  It’s a bizarre idea, to be sure, but it’s handled with enough tongue-in-cheek moments that it’s obvious the filmmakers aren’t taking much of this seriously, either.

Pietari is a young boy who lives in the mountains of Finland along with his father Rauno.  There, they eke out a tight lifestyle, with Rauno making his money by slaughtering and selling animals.  Then Americans show up, with the intention of digging deep into the mountain, hoping to strike it rich off any riches that the mountain holds.  When a hole in a fence leads to dozens of dead reindeer, the Finnish townsfolk immediately suspect the Americans were behind the vandalism, which allowed wolves to enter into the reindeer pen to finish them.  They head up to confront them, only to find that no one is there, and that they “must have left in a hurry”.

To protect their own home, Rauno sets up a wolf trap.  Pietari notices that the bait is gone, and the trap has been activated.  But what Rauno sees is not a wolf at all, but a fragile, old naked man.  After a little while, they come to realize that it’s Santa Claus, and Rauno’s eyes light up with dollar signs.  But Santa has different ideas, and soon his elves close in, and they will stop at nothing to free their master.

The film’s biggest transgression is that it never really “takes off”; it always hints at things grander than what it is willing to achieve.  There were several moments during Rare Exports that I started to get noticeably excited in anticipation of a scene’s climax, but it was never as thrilling as we were lead to believe.  Don’t misunderstand me, there are plenty of good ideas here as is, but many of them are never given enough time in the spotlight to bloom into anything special.  The lack of suspense is also a killer—every single plan Pietari concocts (another annoying trait: a kid character calling the shots in a decidedly non-children’s movie) seems to work without a single hitch.  It all just feels too neat and tidy, without ever really putting the character’s in any kind of immediate harm.

I also wasn’t a fan at all of the ending; it’s supposed to be “happy”, because it gives the main characters everything they’ve been looking for, yet it honestly felt kind of cruel to me.  I can’t really reveal anything about it without giving it all away, but I was expecting a detour toward more of a poignant ending, which is hinted at for a few moments, before evaporating.  Having such a finish wouldn’t be a stretch, either, as director Jalmari Helander allows several moments of genuine emotion to seep in, though like everything else, they are never given any time to truly resonate.

To be fair, there are plenty of clever scenes at play here, even disregarding the obvious change of Santa Claus from lovable bringer of presents to punisher of naughty children.  For example, one of the villagers complains that someone has entered into his barn and messed with his potatoes—as it turns out, whoever it was left all the potatoes, but was merely interested in stealing dozens of burlap sacks.  We soon find out what they’re being used for (though it doesn’t take much to guess), and despite the general obviousness of it, it’s still pretty genius.  Santa Claus is also surprisingly, genuinely terrifying—the evil looks that he gives Rauno and the local villagers plotting what to do with him are eerily excellent.

Now that I think about it, the movie this really reminds me of is Trollhunter; both films feature people searching for mythical creatures, and both are very similar in tone.  But comparing them side by side reveals just how unsatisfactory Rare Exports is as a feature length film; Trollhunter (which did admittedly have a slightly higher budget) isn’t afraid to take chances, and to even let some surprising emotions into the mix, nor did it shy away from awe-inspiring effects that honestly took me back to when I was a kid watching Jurassic Park for the first time in a theater.  Rare Exports, while never taking itself seriously, also rarely manages to be that much fun.  

There are some hailing this as a new Christmas tradition, in the same vein as A Christmas Story and National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation.  As for me, watching this once per lifetime was plenty enough.

RECAP: It hints at great things that it never even attempts to achieve; Rare Exports is a film with great potential that squanders it at almost every turn.  There aren’t many laughs, and the ending just feels downright cruel, a direct contradiction to the almost lighthearted hijinx throughout.  Effects and acting are good, and it certainly held my attention, but it ends up feeling like one anti-climactic letdown after another. For a movie with a similar tone done right, I’d recommend Trollhunter.

RATING: 5/10

The Santa Clause (1994)

Director: John Pasquin
Writer(s):  Leo Benvenuti and Steve Rudnick
Starring: Tim Allen, Judge Reinhold, Wendy Crewson, and Eric Lloyd

I have a confession to make: I love The Santa Clause.  But I can also admit that, when viewed under even the slightest bit of scrutiny, it’s a pretty terrible film.  For starters, it suffers from the same problem as Home Alone, and that’s that the main child character is surrounded by terribly unlikable adults.  Maybe that’s part of the winning formula for children’s holiday classics; after all, Christmas is generally geared toward children, and so it would make sense to put them in the spotlight of such movies.

The parents in The Santa Clause are despicable in a different way than the McCallisters; they can at least seem to remember that he exists during family vacations, which is a good thing.  But Neil and Laura Miller (Judge Reinhold and Wendy Crewson, respectively) might be even worse—they have already told their six year old son, Charlie, that there is no Santa Claus.  Talk about destroying a childhood!

This news upsets Scott Calvin (Tim Allen), Laura’s ex-husband and biological father to Charlie, who can’t believe they would do something like that.  Of course, Scott doesn’t believe in Santa either, but seems to be desperate to have some kind of connection to his son, and if that means pretending to have something in common with him, then so be it!  But then shit gets a little too real when Scott hears footsteps on his roof.  He runs outside to confront the cause of the noise—only to discover that it’s Santa Claus himself!  Startled, the real Santa tumbles to his death (don’t worry: it’s in a lighthearted enough way that children will still be oblivious to the real-life mortality of everyone around them).  Scott Calvin discovers a card in Santa’s pocket that says in the case of an accident, whoever finds this must take over as the new Santa.  Uh-oh Tim Allen, looks like you’re manning the sleigh this year!

A lot of this whole idea is completely forced—Charlie isn’t too enthused about being forced to spend a night with his dad by himself, and begs to go back home with his mother.  You can even feel the distance in between them, during an awkward dinnertime sequence that takes place at a Denny’s (?).  Honestly, I got the feeling that Scott Calvin was a pretty terrible father, who never really put much effort into connecting with his son…and yet, once he becomes Santa Claus, then we’re all-of-a-sudden supposed to forget his shortcomings as a parent, and cheer for him to win over Charlie’s heart.  Which isn’t hard to do, considering he has the advantage of being SANTA CLAUS, for goodness sakes!

But Neil and Laura go beyond the typical stupidity of holiday movie parents; they are downright cruel.  For example, they find Charlie, who by this point has visited the North Pole with his father and gone on Christmas runs with him, playing in his room with chairs set up as reindeer, and a desk for a sleigh.  They find this behavior—you know, that a six-year-old might have an imagination, and fun by himself—completely odd, and blame Scott as being a negative influence on him.  God forbid this kid ever has an imaginary friend…they would probably try banishing him to a psychiatric hospital.

There’s also the annoyance of Neil and Laura berating Scott for taking on the physical appearance of Santa Claus, which they believe he is pretending to do solely to bond with Charlie, who by now is convinced that his dad is the real Saint Nick.  Right, because it’s completely normal for a man to gain 45 pounds overnight, or to grow a full beard in less than 24 hours, or for someone’s hair to go completely white within a span of a day.

You know what though?  I am willing to forgive some of these shortcomings because it manages to be a lot of mindless fun.  Tim Allen even manages to be funny, something that doesn’t happen very often—his barbs aimed at Neil are often very humorous, and his slow metamorphosis into Santa Claus features some inspired bits.  I laughed a lot more often than I was expecting to, and a lot more often than I do in these typical family-themed films.  The scenes at the North Pole also feature enough whimsical fancy to delight the young, without going overboard—this is just a simple story, simply told, and for that, it is recommended viewing for all ages.

RECAP: There are many frustrating annoyances that prevent it from being great, but The Santa Clause is a holiday classic that I enjoy watching every time I see it.  Tim Allen is actually funny in his role as Scott Calvin-cum-Santa Claus, and while the film certainly doesn’t aim for much, there's just enough humor and whimsy to make it perfect mindless fun for the holidays. 

RATING: 7/10

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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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