Calling Home for the Holidays: BLACK CHRISTMAS

Well, kids, it’s time for my favorite annual media stunt.  Yes, every December 25^th, TBS plays a 24 hour loop of the Bob Clark holiday classic, BLACK CHRISTMAS.  I don’t tune in, I have the movie on Blu Ray, and who watches cable anymore, but I appreciate the gesture.  So, if they can devote an entire day to the groundbreaking 1974 film, I can at least devote a blog post to it.

The Capsule:

It’s Christmas break at a small town Canadian university, and the sorority house is empty aside from a few stragglers, like frumpy housemother, Mrs. Mac (Marian Waldman), acerbic tongued lush, Barb (Margo Kidder), drowsy Phyllis (Andrea Martin), and no-nonsense Jess (Olivia Hussey).  Oh, and Billy, the psychotic prank phone caller who has moved into the attic, unbeknownst to anyone except the cat.  While Jess is busy ending her relationship with her remarkably incompatible boyfriend, Peter (Keir Dullea), and everyone else is distracted by a missing girl, Billy slowly makes additions to the corpses decorating his hiding spot.  By the time dogged cop Lt. Fuller (John Saxon) puts things together, will there be anyone left to warn that the calls are coming from inside the house?

Even though BLACK CHRISTMAS is not as well known as the big franchise names of the ‘80s it's largely thought of as the first slasher. It predates HALLOWEEN by four years. Yes, PSYCHO and PEEPING TOM both came before it, but though they share several elements, neither film fully embraces the kind of disreputable fun that the subgenre is known for.   

Like the other horror milestone released the same year, TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE, BLACK CHRISTMAS is surprisingly light on the red stuff, but can be incredibly disturbing none the less.  This is mostly thanks to the shadowy killer, Billy, or more specifically, his voice.  Billy’s giggling, horrendously obscene phone calls contain some of the most unsettling dialogue ever written, but the delivery seals the deal.  I don’t think I have ever heard a voice that sounds as authentically insane as his (or theirs, as the vocal work was a mix of actor Nick Mancuso, Ann Sweeny, and Clark himself). 

The other element that makes Billy such an effective villain is his mystery.  Unlike most horror movies prior or since, Billy just shows up with zero fanfare.  There are no news reports of an escaped mental patient, no desperate doctor warning the police to be on the lookout, no forewarning whatsoever.  If he had anything to do with the dead girl found in the park halfway through the movie, no one makes the connection.  The only backstory we get comes from Billy himself, a ghastly bit of family drama revealed in fragments—and through separate personas—during his calls.  Billy is not what we’d call a reliable narrator, so there is no telling how much, if any, of it is true.  Masks would become a prominent feature of slashers to come, but Billy takes it a step farther.  We are shown no face, disguised, disfigured, or otherwise, only an eye through a crack in the door.  He could be anyone.  He might be lurking in the shadow of your house right now. 

All the terror and gloom can’t cover up Clark’s impish sense of humor, though.  From a cussing Jewish Santa, to Barb getting a grade-schooler sloshed on champagne, to the constantly ridiculed simpleton cop, Nash (Doug McGrath). Clark uses a few moments of inappropriate levity to keep the story from becoming relentlessly bleak.   Marian Waldman’s performance is the most outlandish.  Her boozy housemother, Mrs. Mac, is straight out of a vaudeville routine.  She’s the kind of loving but crusty broad who keeps little bottles of hooch stashed throughout the sorority house, like hidden in a cutout book or bobbing in the toilet tank (a drastic hiding place, in my opinion).  I’m not sure why she couldn’t just keep them in her private room.  Perhaps she just had a compulsive need to be within five feet of booze at all times.   In addition to humor, she also provides the horror movie staple of the wandering cat.  Rather than being used for jump scares, Claude the cat’s primary function is luring people to their deaths.  Pretty sure he’s an relative of Jonesy from ALIEN.  

Clark is backed up by a solid cast.  John Saxon is great as always playing Lt. Fuller, perhaps the only competent cop in town. I wonder if this is the case that made him settle down for a quiet life on Elm Street?  Margo Kidder steals every scene as the foul mouthed, socially inappropriate lush, Barb.  She meanders seamlessly between being hilarious, sad, feisty, and cruel.  I’m pretty sure Barb could have kicked Billy’s ass if she hadn’t been passed out drunk at the time.  Special mention must be given to Art Hindle as a hockey-playing hunk who takes no shit and has enough swagger to casually rock a full length fur coat.  

Olivia Hussey may have played the genre’s first “final girl”, but she isn’t a typical one.  Jess is reserved, resolute, and analytical.  She certainly doesn’t fit the mold of a scream queen.  She is, however, the worst girlfriend ever.  At least, she is the worst girlfriend for a hyper-sensitive, emotionally needy artist like Peter.  I’m not sure if she’s supposed to represent an overly harsh version of the liberated woman, or if she just doesn’t suffer fools (human empathy) lightly.  In any case, Jess does need to work on her sense of timing.  Did she have to have a heart to heart with Peter an hour before his career defining piano audition for the music department heads?  “Peter, I’m pregnant with your child, and I’ve decided to get an abortion.  And no, I’m not going to marry you, because I don’t love you.  Anyway, good luck at your recital!”

My favorite bit with Jess is when she is on the phone with the cops after they learn that “the calls are coming from inside the house” (suck it WHEN A STRANGER CALLS, BLACK CHRISTMAS said it first).  The long suffering Officer Nash, who has thus far failed to do a single thing right in the entire movie, literally pleads with Jess  to leave the house immediately.  Jess promises to… as soon as she goes upstairs to get her friends.  Maybe grab a few essentials, pack an overnight bag, then she’ll totally leave the house.  It’s a common horror trope for the target of a killer to run upstairs instead of out the front door, but it’s usually due to stupidity, not stubbornness.  

BLACK CHRISTMAS has another notable departure from most slashers in that the movie ends on a wickedly ambiguous note.  One could view the resolution as Jess surviving the night of terrors and getting a well deserved rest, or that she is still in danger and in a far worse position than when she started.  Clark leaves the answer up to us, but I have the strong suspicion that the holiday season is not going to end well for Jess.

 In addition to birthing the entire slasher genre, BLACK CHRISTMAS has spawned two remakes itself, one in 2006 and another just this year.  I haven’t seen either, since I highly doubt they have any fur coat wearing hockey players badgering the police.  For the sake of mixing things up , though, I am willing to break from my annual tradition slightly and watch the original on the TBS all day marathon.  Let me just check the schedule to make sure it starts at midnight…

Oh, fudge.

C Chaka

Embrace Your Limitations: TURKEY SHOOT

These days, studio blockbusters can have budgets larger than small countries, CGI can generate anything under and over the sun, and scripts can be remolded by a dozen screenwriters.  Every whim is within the director’s grasp. The results can still be uninspired.  Sometimes the key to really good filmmaking is not getting what you want.  Sudden roadblocks require creative thinking to get around, and can push a director down interesting new paths he or she might never have ventured otherwise.  Everyone has heard the stories of how Spielberg was forced to hide his malfunctioning shark through most of JAWS.  His workarounds re-wrote the book on suspense and produced an untouchable classic of cinema. Obviously, not everyone faced with the limitations of budget, time, and/or resources is going to turn it around and come up with gold.  A lot of films never overcome those challenges.  But even a failure can produce strange, unexpected fruit, and those oddities can be enough to make a movie stand out.  Take Brian Trenchard-Smith’s 1982 Australian sci-fi bloodbath, TURKEY SHOOT, for instance.  

The Capsule:

In a dystopian future, objectors to the authoritarian rule are labeled “Deviants” and shipped off to Re-Education camps.  Some are true dissidents and revolutionaries like Paul Anders (Steve Railsback).  Others, like law abiding Chris Walters (Olivia Hussey), are rounded up simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.  Both Anders and Chris find themselves in the brutal Camp 47.  As hellish as the conditions within the camp are, the tyrannical Camp Master Thatcher (Michael Craig) has even worse plans for them.  Thatcher combats overcrowding by staging “turkey shoots” for society’s degenerate elite, with the prisoners as the prey.  Hunted through the jungle by vicious guards, well-armed sociopaths, and even nastier surprises, Anders and Chris will need a miracle to survive.

TURKEY SHOOT is a strange movie, no doubt.  It’s a satire at heart, much like Paul Bartel’s earlier DEATH RACE 2000.  Trenchard-Smith doesn’t go as over the top as that, but he does keep the performances bombastic and the set-ups outrageous.  The first half of this film is essentially a prison movie, with all the sleaze and violence that comes with that genre.  The sleaze is a little more egalitarian in this crazy future world, at least. There is a shower scene, as required by all prison movies, but like STARSHIP TROOPERS, it's co-ed.  Overall, there isn’t much strife between the prisoners.  I wouldn’t call it solidarity, the inmates are too busy keeping their heads down, but they aren’t trying to shank or abuse each other, either.  The worst of the batch, Dodge (John Ley), is merely an opportunistic douchebag.  If it weren’t for the sadistic guards, it would be a pretty progressive prison.  

The guards are a nasty bit of work, having free reign to harass and torture the inmates.  They put the prisoners through elaborate and difficult challenges (their version of “the box” has a huge weight that the prisoner must hold up or be crushed).  It’s kind of like that TV show, Survivor, but with death at stake rather than idols.  One of the worst is Red, a limping, predatory scumbag.  He targets the timid Chris right out of the gate, continuously raising the threat of sexual violence.  Luckily, the movie is more interested in sticking it to the man than wallowing in the sleaze.  When Red makes his move in the shower, Chris turns the tables (and zips the zipper) on her would-be rapist.  The movie is satisfyingly punitive against misogynists; two lascivious bastards get shot in the dick, others get similarly ignoble fates.

The biggest baddies are running the place.  Chief Guard Ritter (Roger Ward, Max’s boss in MAD MAX) is a psychopathic brute with a luxurious moustache and a penchant for beating people to death for no reason.  This is the guy in charge of keeping the other guards in line, which is saying something.  Above Ritter is the ice cold Camp Master Thatcher.  Tasked with “rehabilitating” the Deviants, he espouses the camp’s contradictory motto: Freedom is Obedience, Obedience is Work, Work is Life (the unofficial motto: If you have time to lean, you have time to be hit in the neck with a rifle butt).  Thatcher is a classic control freak.  He deals with even the slightest disobedience with a disproportionally severe reprisal, often with a benevolent smile on his face.  He would have the world believe his actions are for the prisoners own good, encouraging their realignment with Society, but his real interest is breaking wills and bodies beneath his heel.  Thatcher has higher ambitions than just torturing malcontents, though, which is why he has arranged the prisoner hunts for a bunch of wealthy and influential sleazebags.

Once we get to the MOST DANGEROUS GAME portion of the movie, the villains get even more colorful.  The hunters are the type of amoral, decadent bourgeoisie that are easy to despise.  They are all extremely one dimensional, the only character evolution is in the depths of their depravity.  Still, it makes their inevitable comeuppance that much more satisfying.  Secretary Mallory is a slimy, simpering politician who sets his perverted eye on Chris.  He uses Ritter to shield him through the dangers of the hunt, but wants the kill all for himself.  Jennifer is a cunning socialite with a woman-hating streak even wider than the boys.  She’s a weapons designer, but her personal preference is a custom crossbow with explosive bolts.  My favorite baddie is the sadomasochistic big game hunter, Tito.  It’s not Tito himself that is so great, although he does drive around in a cute little bulldozer and has a quick draw bazooka.  The best thing about Tito is Alph, his hunting companion/pet.  Alph is a werewolf in a top hat.    If I wasn’t in love with TURKEY SHOOT yet, Alph sealed the deal.  He is the most insanely left field thing in a movie that starts out way, way in left field to begin with.  And he is played totally straight, at least compared to everything else we’ve seen.  The only explanation given is that Alph is a freak, and Tito found him in a circus.  Don’t question it, just enjoy his back breaking, toe-eating antics.

Compared to the villains, the heroes come off a little bland.  Steve Railsback plays Anders with his typical intensity (I’ll always remember him best as the abductee nutball Duane Berry from The X-Files).  He’s a fine foil for Thatcher, the unbreakable malcontent fighting for a revolution.  He, like the villains, is a little one note, though.  The big surprise is what a badass Olivia Hussey's character becomes.  Chris Walters (possibly the least interesting action movie name ever) goes through most of the film acting like a frightened rabbit, but she still manages to [spoilers] chop off Ritter’s hands to save Anders, blow off Jennifer’s head with her own explosive arrow, and mow down dozens of camp guards during the insurrection.  Anders is thrown a bone by getting to chew up Thatcher into pieces with a  machine gun, but it turns out Chris is the Most Dangerous Deviant around.

The best thing about this movie, werewolves aside, is that we are unceremoniously dumped into a dystopian future already in progress.  Stock footage of public unrest plays over the opening credits, then – pow – we are in the back of a Re-Ed van with the new batch of Deviants. No voice over, no text crawl, no nothing.  Anders and Chris have short backstories, but they don’t really explain anything other than Don’t Fuck With the Man.  Clearly, an authoritarian government is in control, and it doesn’t take any shit.  We don’t know if it is global or regional government or how the world got into the state it’s in.  We don’t even know the year (they say it in the trailer, but not the film).  It’s similar to the original MAD MAX, where the audience is left to fill in the blanks.  Where MAD MAX had a society gradually disintegrating into lawlessness, though, TURKEY SHOOT’s fascist world is fully formed and totally in control.  

The original script did explain things.  The opening of the film was supposed to be all about life in the 1984 (the book, not the year) style society.  The second act was to be the camp, then came the turkey shoot.  Before everything could get going, though, Brian Trenchard-Smith had both the financing and the shooting schedule cut.  He had to drop the opening and expand out the second and third acts.  There is still a bit of cheeky social commentary to be found (the ultra-conservative Camp Master shared the same name as the UK Prime Minister, after all), but Trenchard-Smith had to ramp up the action, sleaze, and gore to make up for the shortfall.  It worked out fine, in my opinion.  We’ve seen oppressive futuristic governments before.  What we haven’t seen is a werewolf in a top hat.  

If ever there was a movie that begged for a sequel, it’s TURKEY SHOOT.  The end of the movie finds Anders and Chris victorious, having liberated the camp and put down all the baddies, but there is a definite feeling of “what now?”  There’s still that soulless, unspecified totalitarian regime to overthrow.  Unfortunately, we’ll never know happened.  TURKEY SHOOT was not a success when initially released to dumbfound audiences, only gaining cult status years later.  The closest it came to a sequel was the 2014 remake, not directed by Trenchard-Smith, and not seen by me.  It looks all grim and serious.  I’m willing to bet there is not a single werewolf in it.  I was momentarily intrigued by the poster, which I thought showed an awesomely miscast Steve Carell, but it turned out to be Dominic Purcell instead. Missed opportunities.

Trenchard-Smith went on to introduce the world to Nicole Kidman (and her original nose) in BMX BANDITS, continue his dystopian satire theme with the brilliant DEAD END DRIVE-IN, and eventually make the schizocinema fave NIGHT OF THE DEMONS 2.    I doubt any of those movies ended up the way he first envisioned them, and it is probably for the better.  Let’s hear it for limitations.

C Chaka