Viking Night: Black Christmas
By Bruce Hall
December 14, 2016
BoxOfficeProphets.com

This swear's for you, Bruce.

Unfortunately, Black Christmas is NOT that long lost Dave Chappelle flick you’ve been hearing about. I hate to be the one to break it to you, but I’d rather you hear it from me. That’s because after years of writing this column, I’ve finally decided to make up for all the times I’ve failed to post seasonally appropriate material. Every year about this time, it occurs to me that I should write about a Christmas film. Sometimes it happens, and sometimes it doesn’t. Well, the uncertainty ends here. I owe it to you, my loyal reader(s), to bring you what Christmas joy I can in these uncertain times.

It’s the least I can do, at least until I finally roll out Burt Reynolds Month, or Michael Bay May.

So this week, I bring you Black Christmas, which is also not a Key and Peele sketch. It is, however, one of the greatest horror films of the 1970s, and it features a cast of luminaries who rarely get the mention they deserve in these pages. Plus, even casual readers know that I’m not a big horror guy - but Black Christmas is just the kind of thing they need to make more of in order to change my mind. I realize I’m discussing a film released in 1974, but let’s be real - they just don’t make them like they used to.

Part of that is because if not for Black Christmas, they might not be making them the way they do NOW. Credited with being one of the earliest “slasher” films, Black Christmas is said to have directly influenced John Carpenter’s Halloween, for starters. Although not a huge hit in the US, it was, at the time, the highest grossing Canadian film of all time. Sure, that’s a little like pointing out that The Tragically Hip are the best-selling Canadian rock band of all time. Obviously that’s impressive, but also, so what?

Well how many times do you watch a 40-year-old horror movie and not only enjoy it, but kind of wish more modern films were like it? One of the reasons Black Christmas was so successful is because it combines a somewhat conceivable psychological thriller with a good old fashioned serial killer flick. Thing was, the Good Old Fashioned Serial Killer Flick wasn’t actually a thing when this film was released. Audiences were not yet desensitized to the point where Hitler driving a garbage truck full of dead coeds doesn’t even get people out the door, let alone into the theater.

Black Christmas starts out where it should, at the Pi Delta-Something sorority house during Christmas break. Most of the students have left for the holidays, and only a few girls remain at the House. As the film opens, they’re throwing the most tasteful, classy sorority party I think I’ve ever seen. Everyone’s sitting around listening to inoffensive holiday music and sipping out of brandy glasses. And because it’s the 1970s, there are enough silk scarves, knit sweaters and feathered hair to render the Siberian tundra completely habitable.

Among the Sisters present are Jess (Olivia Hussey), a polite and principled Brit who practically wears a halo over her spectacularly conditioned head of hair. Phyllis (Andrea Martin) is Jess’ best friend, a brainy, big hearted nerd with wavy hair and coke bottle glasses. Holding court over things is Barb (Margot Kidder), who absolutely steals the first act of the film. She is a loud, brash, hard drinking, sexually charged battle-axe. She fears nobody, including cops, and Phyllis seems to be the only person who can control her. Barb is Chris Farley to Phyllis’ David Spade, is what I’m saying.

Clare (Lynne Griffin) has but one character trait, which is to be Barb’s verbal punching bag. And supposedly in charge of all this is Mrs. MacHenry (Marian Waldman), the Housemother. She drinks and curses less than Barb, but not by much. Because of this, the girls more or less do what they want, but still somehow manage to stay out of trouble. Sadly, trouble comes looking for them in the form of the shambling mouth-breather who scales the trellis outside the house and enters the attic during the party.

The killer is in first person shooter mode all throughout the film, allowing us to see through his eyes. All we see of him are shadows, and the odd partial reflection - although his incessant muttering and wheezing become pretty unsettling over time. Which reminds me - as the party comes to a close, someone makes a prank call to the house, and Jess answers. It’s clear he’s called before, because Barb takes the phone and lays into him in the way she lays into everyone - which makes me want to travel back in time and propose to Margot Kidder.

Maybe I can warn her about all that stuff that happens in the ‘90s.

Shortly after this, Barb does the same thing to Clare, who runs upstairs with her mouth poked out. She heads into the attic to pack for her trip home, and is promptly murdered. If you want to know how, it’s on the movie poster. From this point on, the calls continue, and the person calling is a raving, babbling lunatic. This too, kind of gets to you as the film goes on, and everyone is trying to figure out whether the Killer and “The Moaner” are related, or whether the Pi Delta-Somethings are just the un-fucking-luckiest Greeks on campus.

Unfortunately, because Black Christmas is based on a well-known urban legend - one you will probably suddenly recall about 15 minutes into the story - very little of the tension in this movie comes from the actual plot. Odds are that even if you don’t know what I’m talking about, you’ll still have everything figured out well before the final reveal. But what makes the film so much fun is that it’s well paced, it has a (bleak) sense of humor, and while the killings are few in number, they’re all uniquely terrifying. Not because of out and out gore, and more because of what you don’t see than what you do.

More importantly, the how, where, and when of each murder add to the impact. Before it’s over, Black Christmas feels less like an actual slasher film and more like an extremely short, R-rated psychological thriller. There’s a lot of salty language (mostly out of Margot Kidder’s mouth, natch) but no nudity and what blood there is you’ll miss if you blink three times in a row. Most of what’s scary about the film will come from the ambiance of Canadian winter, or from you thinking about what it would be like if YOU were the one getting stabbed in the stomach with a crystal unicorn.

Which leads us to the most important thing of all. There is some genuinely good acting in this movie, and it helps you identify with the characters. Olivia Hussey played Juliet in what some consider to be the definitive film version of a certain Shakespeare play. The one they made a big deal of when I was in high school because there were boobs for three seconds (I counted). Keir Dullea appears as Jess’ high strung boyfriend. You might remember him as the astronaut who did NOT die in 2001: A Space Odyssey.

John Saxon is the intrepid police detective who investigates Clare’s disappearance. If you’ve seen Enter the Dragon, you will recall him as the guy Bruce Lee called for help when there were just too many asses to kick and not enough time for one man to do it. Saxon is actually a pretty good actor, and a total badass. While watching him here, I couldn’t help but wonder how in the name of God Almighty this man was not given his own franchise of hard-boiled cop films.

And obviously, Margot Kidder is the Tom Baker of Lois Lanes.

I’m not saying that all of these people are the greatest actors of their generation, but they’re good, and they’re good together, and they’re a hell of a lot better than this story deserves. So, guess what? It all worked out extremely well! The film is imaginatively crafted, with clever scene transitions and gobs of atmosphere. The Killer is a terrifying maniac. Margot Kidder coins the terms “gold plated whore” and “fellatio 20880” (which should be the name of the next dedmau5 album...dude, call me). I also wish John Saxon was my dad. Unlike most “slasher” films, when HIS police department gets involved, shit gets DONE.

The last act of Black Christmas is, honestly, kind of scary good. If you can forget the hundreds of serial killer movies made since, and imagine seeing it with fresh eyes, it gets even better. And the final shot of the film is just...perfect. I absolutely love Margot Kidder Black Christmas, and not ironically. This is a legit horror classic that does not get nearly the love it deserves. Well, I am more than willing stand up and be the tip of the spear on that one - at least until it’s time to drop Michael Bay May...