black-christmas-poster

Review: BLACK CHRISTMAS (1974)

by Meredith Grau
.
Best Bad Quote:
“Ho, ho, ho, shit.”
.
I have witnessed much senselessness in my life. It’s called walking around with my eyes open. (When will I learn, damn it)?! However, the sights I beheld in this Christmas dish will remain special to me forever. Or at least for the length of time it takes me to write this review… Hm, I better be quick, because it’s fading fast.
.
Slasher movies, we can agree, were essentially made so we could exorcize a little teenage angst and fear. The following onslaught of bad slasher movies, in kind, were made so we could laugh at dumb sluts getting murked. This film belongs in the latter category, though it tries to dress itself as a “contemporary,” pro-feminist piece. I think… For example, Margot Kidder plays a raunchy-mouthed alcoholic, Olivia Hussey is not only a ‘hussy’ but one who likes to abort fetuses, and then there’s a fat, old bat who gets irritated when stuffy males harsh her acerbic mellow. (Whatever that means). Seems to me, instead of being applauded for their modern ways, these sorority sisters need to be punished and put in their place for existing and stuff! There is only one man for the job. I call him Bronchial Bart. He has breathing issues. Probably chronic sinusitis.
.
The sorority sisters of Kappa Delta Killa are merrily celebrating their holiday party when their super fun time is interrupted by a lewd phone call from the aforementioned heavy, snot-obstructed breather who refers to cunnilingus. Apparently, this isn’t the first time this has happened. Instead of being flattered, Barb (Kidder) laughs it off, Jess (Hussey) is disgusted and unnerved, and some other unimportant girl (a gross virgin type) winds up suffer-cated. Unfortunately, no one knows about her corpse chillin’ in the attic, because she was supposed to leave for Christmas break and is thus not counted as missing. Let the spree begin.
.
More people die by knife, by hook, and probably by choice  because they wanted out of the film. Understandable. In the meantime, Jess has to deal with her nagging boyfriend who keeps pressuring her to have his illegitimate baby– you know, the way guys do– and the incompetent police, who don’t even know what fellatio is, (gawd), drag their feet about finding the soon numerous disappeared ladies. Tensions are high. Well, not high… Gelatinous. Like holiday aspic.
.
This film’s characters are dumb. Kidder the loon is at least entertaining, but none of the girls (or guys) really make sense, so you pretty much want them to die, especially when the cops say, “The call is coming from inside the house” and the heroine takes this as a cue to walk up the stairs. Token dumb women who belong in the kitchen, am I right? There’s no one to root for, so ya’ keep watching solely to see who the crazy killer man is. Spoiler alert: the end has no end. What is the cinematic equivalent of a brain fart? Tapering celluloid flatulence? And I know what you’re thinking: “Well, at least there are boobs, right?” No. The gentlemen of the world will not even be treated to these small (or large) gift sets.
.
This yuletide movie is at least so dumb that it’s funny. Still, laughing at a lump of coal in your stocking doesn’t change the fact that it’s a lump of coal. Guess we were naughty in 1974. God damn disco ruined everything.
.
Rating:
3 out of 5 Dial-a-Whores
maxresdefault maxresdefault maxresdefault
.

You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

Leave a Reply