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

Goofballs and Gaff Hooks - THE MUTILATOR

There is something magical about a good slasher movie, but there is something more magical about a bad one.  Yes, they are formulaic, and most often modeled off FRIDAY THE 13^TH, which itself takes its cue from Mario Bava’s TWITCH OF THE DEATH NERVE.  So what?  Almost all movies follow a formula, from drama to action to romance.  What makes a movie interesting is how the filmmakers interpret, or misinterpret, the formula.  Wild left turns, tonal shifts, and inexplicable reasoning will keep you guessing, even if it is only to guess what the hell the director was thinking.  For instance, take a cute and fluffy sex comedy, mix in a brutal murderer fueled by whiskey and hatred, and get ready for the wholesome bloodbath that is 1984’s THE MUTILATOR.

The Capsule:

Ed Jr. (Matt Mitler) doesn’t have a close relationship with his dad.  Big Ed (Jack Chatham) drinks, is emotionally distant, and blames his son for his failed marriage.  The last point is valid, as 10 year-old Ed Jr. accidentally shot his mom while cleaning his dad’s gun as a birthday surprise.  So when deadbeat dad calls out of the blue and demands he clean and lock up his beach house for the season, Ed Jr. isn’t keen on doing him any favors.  But Ed’s college buddies think it sounds like just the place for suds and love during their Fall Break, so after a couple of quick driving and cleaning montages, they are ready for some subdued, inoffensive partying.  That is, until Big Ed, who had been sleeping off his last bender in the garage, wakes up in a homicidal haze and commences to ruin all their fun.  One by one, Big Ed takes out his son’s friends in increasingly brutal ways.  Can junior and his squeaky clean girlfriend, Pam (Ruth Martinez ), get mean enough to take on Ed senior, or will they too end up on his trophy wall?

Let’s get the obvious complaints out of the way first.  Of all the holiday inspired horror movie gimmicks, THE MUTILATOR (AKA: FALL BREAK) has the lamest.   Fall break isn’t even a holiday, it’s just the arbitrary period between college semesters.   At least Spring Break is associated with bikinis and alcohol and hedonism.  What images does Fall Break conjure?  Sweaters?  Colorful leaves?  The movie can’t even take advantage of the nearby Halloween imagery, because it’s staked its claim.   No pumpkins or black cats here, this is about the Fall Break, bitches.

Even worse, the movie mostly wastes its best asset, showing how spooky a deserted beach town is during the off season.  There’s a little strolling on the beach at night, and a couple goes skinny dipping in a plastic covered public pool (where the tension is dissolved by an excessively long game of Marco Polo), but the vast majority of the movie is set in one small beach house.  It’s like condensing Camp Crystal Lake into a condo.  That said, the filmmakers do a good job of working with their limited set.  There is a nice hide and stalk scene were the killer hunts around the dark house for victims, but the kids are just playing blind man’s bluff with each other and have no idea the person they are hiding inches away from wants to butcher them.  

Those gripes aside, the movie is a wild ride.  This tonal roller-coaster starts with the very first scene.  The prologue starts off all daises and sunshine, with the smiling mom lovingly decorating a cake in her tidy kitchen, cute Lil’ Ed eager to make his dad proud.  Once that colorful, hand drawn sign comes out, we know it’s all about to go south.  That kid’s “All your guns cleaned by me!” birthday surprise is the worst idea since “Your car’s brake lines cleaned by me!”  Sure enough, a moment later he unintentionally blows a hole through mom’s stomach and the cake is totally ruined. When Big Ed comes home, instead of screaming or crying or calling an ambulance, he wordlessly props his wife's corpse against the couch and starts drinking, with Ed Jr watching from hall.

In any other slasher, that kind of trauma would be Junior’s catalyst for becoming the killer. Plus, being raised by a guy who actively fantasizes about different ways of murdering you rarely leads to a happy childhood. Somehow though, he ends up being a mild mannered, well adjusted college kid.  A little boring even.  In fact, his whole crew is sort of a toned down, smooth jazz version of the typical slasher archetypes.   There’s the practical joker, the horny couple, the prude, but all in an inoffensively low key way.  They are so corny they break out a game of Monopoly.  Not strip Monopoly, either, just plain Monopoly.  They are kind of endearing, really, especially compared to the aggressively annoying group of victims populating most slashers.  Those dickheads deserve what’s coming to them, but I kind of feel bad about seeing these kids get bumped off.  

Especially in the ways they get bumped off, because for such an unassuming lead up, this fucker gets brutal incredibly fast.  One kid gets chewed up by an outboard motor, one gets pinned to a door through the neck.  A helpful cop gets stabbed in the face with a machete before being decapitated.  The most gruesome kill involves a giant gaff hook inserted into a region no hook was meant to go.  I suppose you wouldn’t want a gaff hook in any region of your body, but definitely not this one.  All the death scenes go just a little bit longer than is comfortable, at least in the unrated cut.  It would be kind of a bummer if the gore effects weren’t so laugh out loud excessive.  Maybe not that hook scene, though.  That was straight up traumatizing.  

One of the problems with low budget slashers is the lack of a distinctive killer (I’m looking at you, whatever-the-fuck-your-name-was from FINAL EXAM).  I’m happy to say that’s not the case here.  Big Ed doesn’t wear a cool mask or have a deformed face.  He’s not even physically imposing, just a middle-aged dude.  What makes Big Ed unique is his motivation.  I’m not talking about his resentment toward his son for killing his wife.  If that was the problem, he could have taken the kid out years ago.  No, the real reason he goes on a kill crazy rampage is because he is an angry, drunk asshole.  I don’t even think he planned any of it.  He just wakes up with a hangover, hears the kids upstairs, and simply decides, “Fuck it, I’m going to kill all those little college pricks.”

At no time does Big Ed look demented or maniacal.  He just looks annoyed.  Stupid punks making fun of my fishing trophies, I’ll show them.  Stupid cop with his nosy flashlight, I’ll show him.  Stupid other cop trying to stop me from murdering my son, I’ll show him! 

On the surface, the movie seems to follow the sex=death trope to the letter.  The super sexed up couples buy it first, while the clean cut virgin makes it to final girl territory.  It’s a better example of how this trope, or the way it is typically framed, is bullshit.  Big Ed is an asshole, not a prude.  He gives no fucks about who fucks.  This guy would have killed these kids if they were slipping away for bible study.  Now, judging from that one scene with the hook, Big Ed clearly has a nasty misogynistic streak, but he doesn’t let it overwhelm his even larger misanthropy.  He has enough murder in his heart for everyone.   

As with most slashers, the sex=death paradigm serves more of a technical function than a moral one.  Sneaking off for a quick one is a handy excuse to put the soon-to-be victims in a quiet, isolated setting.  It’s also a fine setup for the classic situation where the girl thinks she hears or sees something, but the dude is too focused on getting into her pants to pay her any attention.  Speaking of that, has a movie ever reversed the gender of that scenario?  “Hold on, Tina, I think I heard something!”  “Relax, Steve, you’re too wound up.  Let’s just loosen those tighty whities and you’ll feel better.”

Yes, the final girl does turn out to be the virginal Pam, but that just makes sense.  Not being consumed with thoughts of preppy, white bread sex allows her to pick up on all the warning signs.  Plus, she redirected all of her repressed energies into something more productive, like self defense classes.  This makes the level-headed wall flower the only person even remotely capable of dealing with Big Ed’s murderous, asshole rage.  She is certainly better prepared than her utterly useless boyfriend, who actually locks her in the garage closet while he attempts to be the hero.  After he fails miserably, she has to save herself and his lame ass.  

Big spoiler for the movie’s ending, but it is just too bonkers not to address.  After Pam lodges a lead fishing sinker into Big Ed’s noggin and stabs him in the chest, she and her useless, wounded boyfriend make it to the car and share a triumphant moment while we wait for Big Ed to make is inevitable return.  As expected, the drunken mutilator pops up and starts hacking through their car top with a battleaxe.  Lil’ Ed, who only now puts it together, screams “That’s my dad!”  Pam throws Big Ed off the car, and not being the kind of gal who gets fooled twice, throws it into reverse and plows her tormentor into a wall, cutting him in half.  But Big Ed is so much of an asshole that even though he is just a torso, he still manages to chop off a cop’s legs with his dying breath.  The best thing is the smile of satisfaction as he expires.  Some people hope to die peacefully surrounded by loved ones.   Big Ed dreamed of dying in a pool of his own blood, taking one last dumb son of a bitch with him.

True, THE MUTILATOR doesn’t break new ground as far as plot goes.  The characters never venture beyond their one dimension, and the acting won’t set the world on fire.  Yet, for all its predictable broad strokes, it's the nutty detail work that gives it charm.  I’ve never seen such a weird mix of harmlessly corny and gleefully vicious in one slasher before.  And I love that the killer is just a mean drunk.  It’s a pity the movie didn’t take off, because the Big Ed Halloween costume would be super easy.  You just need a bottle of bourbon, a gaff hook, and a simmering well of familial resentment. Come to think of it, maybe it makes a more appropriate Thanksgiving costume.  In any event, have a great Fall Break you goofballs.

C Chaka

Hold the Mystery - ABSURD

In the evolution of horror cinema, the American Slasher sprang from the roots of the Giallo. Directors like Bob Clark (BLACK CHRISTMAS) and Sean Cunningham (FRIDAY THE 13TH) took the hyper-violent Italian thriller, stripped down the plot, ditched the (sometimes) sophistication and wild colors, and moved the usual urban setting to a more isolated one. Initially, however, they kept the mystery, especially concerning the killer. Even though we know the identity of the killer from the very start of HALLOWEEN, Carpenter maintained a sense of mystery by keeping Michael Meyer’s true face, and motivations, hidden away.

It was only a matter of time before Italian cinema, masters of the knock-off, would bring things full circle. In 1981, renowned horror/porn/anything-he-could-get-his-hands-on director Joe D’Amato took a stab at making his own American Slasher. Upping the gore and completely ditching all hint of mystery, the result was, fittingly, ABSURD.

The Capsule:
On the night of the big football party—which is regular football and not soccer because this is clearly America—the residents of a small American (not Italian) town are shocked by the appearance of a disemboweled stranger (George Eastman) pursued by a foreign priest (Edmund Purdom). After making a miraculous recovery in the hospital, the stranger escapes, leaving a trail of bodies behind him. The priest confesses to the police that the stranger, Mikos Stenopolis, was the subject in an experiment that gave him amazing healing powers and drove him homicidally insane. Mikos’ rampage through the town leads him to a villa—sorry, house—where a nurse from the hospital (Annie Belle) is looking after Katia (Katya Berger), a teenager confined to a hospital bed, and her little brother Willy (Kasimir Berger). Is there any way to stop this monster’s absurdly violent killing spree?

I’ve heard a lot of criticism that this is a cheap knock-off of HALLOWEEN, but I´ve never seen it that way. The basic theme is similar, a mute killer starts bumping off the residents of a small (supposedly) American town, followed by an older man who knows his story. Yes, he menaces a babysitter, and the little boy does refer to him as the boogeyman. The big difference, though it isn’t clearly expressed in the first movie, is that Michael Meyers seems to have an agenda. 

D’Amato doesn’t have time for bullshit like subtext. Everything you need to know about ABSURD is right in front of you. Who is the killer? It’s this guy right here, the one killing everybody. His name is Mikos. Does he wear a mask? Only if you count his beard. Does he have a tragic backstory that is gradually revealed? Not really. What drives him to kill? Medically induced murder mania. Does he have a secret motivation? To stop people from being alive. Why did he choose this town? Proximity.

The most mysterious element is the priest in pursuit of the killer. For some reason, the priest is the only person who Mikos fears. The middle aged Purdom is hardly an imposing figure, especially when he pauses mid chase to catch his breath. It might be because not only is Purdum a priest, but a bio-chemist as well, and the man responsible for scrambling Mikos’ brain.

The bigger question is why the hell make Purdom a priest in the first place? The bio-chemist angle lets him layer on scientific gibberish to explain how he made the monster (something about coagulation), but at no point does he do anything remotely priest-like. He offers no prayers or asks for divine guidance, I don’t think he even makes the sign of the cross. He does experiments on humans, accidentally turns an innocent guy into a vicious murderer, and then tries to fix his mistake by trying to murder the murderer he created. He´s a pretty lousy priest. I’m not Catholic, but I’m fairly sure the Church looks down on that sort of behavior. 

At least Purdom was better at being a priest than he was at being a Dean in PIECES. 

The fast healing gimmick is the only innovative bit of storytelling to be found, but it’s a good one. It can’t even be considered a rip off, because it came out before unkillable horror villains were a thing. The medical experiment angle immediately reminded me of SILENT RAGE, but it beat that movie to the punch by a year, and is way better because it doesn’t star Chuck Norris. It isn’t exploited nearly enough, but it adds an extra layer of menace.

I like that D’Amato makes no attempt whatsoever to obscure the killer. No POV shots, no masks, no ominous shadows, nothing. Who needs gimmicks when you have George Eastman? At 6’9, Eastman (real name, Luigi Montefiori) is imposing enough in full daylight. He has played some of the greatest villains in the Italian genre film scene, from the ridiculously over the top warlords in numerous post-apocalyptic ROAD WARRIOR knock offs, to the suffocating, hyper-masculine psychopath in Mario Bava’s RABID DOGS. His raw, dangerous charisma often outshines the movie’s heroes (see: IRONMASTER, no really, see it). Eastman even manages to give a malevolent spark to Mikos, who is written with about as much depth as the shark from JAWS (the first one, not the revenge plotting one from JAWS IV).

Rich character development is not a strength of this movie. However, there is a throwaway subplot that I kind of love. Mr. Bennett, the father of the creepy kid and his bedridden sister, accidentally hits Mikos with his car just after the killer has dispatched a biker. Bennett thinks he has just killed a regular guy, panics, and drives away. While his kids are being terrorized at home, he is with his wife are at a football party, in a moral quandary about what he has done. The movie keeps cutting away from the carnage to the party, where everyone is laughing and enjoying a bowl of pasta, as we Americans do at our American football parties. All except Mr. Bennett. Finally, he and his wife agree to face the consequences and confess to the police, only find out at the climax that the victim was a super freak maniac, so it doesn’t count. Phew! I’m off the hook! Wait, are my children dead?

ABSURD made it onto the infamous Video Nasty list in the UK, which meant it was not only banned, but people could be prosecuted for selling it. Unlike some of the more arbitrary additions to the list, this one really lives up to its moniker. D’Amato isn’t on the same level as Lucio Fulci as far as innovative splatter goes, but he is no slouch when it comes to the red stuff. There is a great deal of head trauma throughout; a drill through the temple, pick axe through the skull. One poor guy gets shoved head first into a band saw (he was bald, making it extra cringy). The worst is a protracted scene when Mikos forces someone’s head into an oven, made especially hard to watch since it is a very likable character. Likable for a D’Amato film, at least.

Most of the movie is just a framework to hang the gory set pieces together, but the final act at the Bennett house is a solid nail biter. Ever the master of exploitation, D’Amato menaces not only a child (all Italian horror movies must have at least one creepy kid), but also a completely immobilized girl in a hospital bed. Emily, the feisty nurse/babysitter, manages to get rock stupid Willy out of the house, but leaves Katia desperately struggling to undo all the restraints locking her down as Mikos bashes his way into her room. There is no reprieve to the tension even after she is on her unsteady feet. D’Amato keeps ratcheting up the intensity until the very last scene, in a shot both wonderful and, appropriately, absurd.

Joe D'Amato showed the world that you don't need mystery to make an American Slasher. And the world replied, "Yes, we know, we saw Friday the 13th Part 2, and every slasher after." At the very least, he showed the world, or Italy, that you don't need America to make an American Slasher. Go, Football Team!"

C Chaka