If there was one thing that really came into its own in the 1970s, it was serial killers. When people weren’t rocking out to the latest Emerson, Lake and Palmer record or protesting the Vietnam War, they were being thrown into a frenzy over the psychopathic murderers that seemed to spring up every couple months in the late 60s and 70s. Ted Bundy, John Wayne Gacy, the Zodiac Killer, the Son of Sam, the Manson Family, at some point it feels more like we’re looking at Batman’s Rogue’s Gallery than people who actually existed in real life. Of course Batman villains kill and rape way more people than that, but then you have to find some way to entertain the kids.
Therein lies the heart of the matter though: people have been killing each other since the dawn of time, and chances are at least a few of them were mentally ill enough to do it in some fucked up way. The thing that’s changed is how the public learns about it. Every moment since the Industrial Age the way we receive new and information has expanded exponentially, and the larger the scope of news becomes and the larger the amount of information we are bombarded with becomes, the more detached we become with the truth and the more interested we become with basic emotional and ideological judgments. Jack the Ripper had to make do with the evening edition of the London Times, but the Manson Family got TV, newspapers, radio, books, a full blown media circus. What started out as a horrific murder of a up-and-coming actress morphs into a nail-biting thriller involving mind-control cults and that devilish rock ‘n’ roll music. The case becomes ‘The End of Flower Power’ and ‘The Death of the American Dream’, Charles Manson becomes this larger-than life figure who shows up in South Park episodes and TV series, rather than just this weirdo who convinced some folks to murder Sharon Tate. But admitting that wouldn't make for good television, I guess.
As serial killers were making waves on the evening news, it’s only natural that Hollywood would jump on it to make some cash. Known as ‘slasher’ movies, this now infamous subgenre of horror featured the titular slasher, occasionally disfigured, generally insane, who would cut a path of bloody destruction through his unfortunate victims, who were traditionally either a group of horny teenagers or your typical white family who decided to vacation in an abandoned mine shaft or something for the summer. The ‘realness’ of the plots (just think of all the abandoned mine shafts you pass by on the way to work), combined with what was then shocking violence, ended up becoming a huge success, and many of the slasher pioneers ended up graduating into full fledged horror icons (or at least franchises). The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Halloween, The Hills Have Eyes, Friday the 13th, all movies that were big enough to driven into the ground. However, there is one slasher film that never quite reached the heights of marketability that its peers did, despite coming out the same year as Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Not only that, but it was also directed by the same man who directed A Christmas Story (one of the most beloved holiday films of all time) and Porky’s (one of the most beloved cheesy 80s sex comedies of all time). This time we’re featuring a little film known as Black Christmas, and no, Shaft unfortunately does not make an appearance.
It’s Christmas time at the Pi Sigma Epsilon sorority, and all the girls are getting into the holiday spirit in their own special way. Some are making plans with their significant others and/or family, some are getting shitfaced drunk (Lois Lane was a bit of a party girl before she moved to Metropolis), and some are dealing with serious real life stuff. Unfortunately, a series of obscene phone calls by a rather uncouth pervert have put a damper on what should be a joyous time of year. Which would be bad enough, but then one of the girls go missing. According to the police, college girls just go missing for days on end all the time and it’s no big deal, but we know the real score. There’s a serial killer on the loose, and he’s targeting the residents of PSE. Will the girls manage to make it to the new year alive, or are they destined for one Unholy Night of hell? Well, it is a horror movie after all.
Having dropped before the formula could be properly established, Black Christmas doesn’t quite have the same feel as the slasher films that were to follow. For one, we never actually see the murderer throughout the entire film, aside from one heavily shadowed shot near the end of the movie. Everything we know about the killer and his activities we learn through POV shots, ‘monster stalker’ scenes I guess you could call them, which were eventually recreated to great effect by Friday the 13th and Evil Dead years later. It’s actually a bit refreshing actually to have a slasher movie where the killer is almost completely anonymous, considering the almost comic-bookish way that colorful killers and movie monsters and placed in the spotlight these days. Makes it a more chilling.
Also worth noting that Black Christmas is really a female-centric movie, and I don’t mean that in the sense that it’s the women who are getting murdered. The main characters are women, and they are treated like human beings rather than stereotypes. No screaming damsels, no women who are punished for having sex (who knew horror movies were so fundamentalist), just regular characters with their own quirks and flaws. They still end up dead in excruciatingly painful ways, but at least you end up caring for their well-being more than any male character in the film, even Nightmare on Elm Street/Enter the Dragon star John Saxon, who is probably the biggest name in this film aside from Margot Kidder. In fact the old boozehound lady of the house is hands down the best and funniest character in this movie. Every time she’s on screen you remember that this is the same guy who dressed Ralphie up in pink bunny pajamas.
In a world where the slasher movie has been done to death, Black Christmas shows how entertaining it was at the outset. You’ve got a bit of humour, you’ve got the violent deaths and the chilling suspense, and it manages to tell its story and wrap things up at around 90 minutes. Old school attitude when it comes to storytelling, new school attitude when it comes to content and behavior, it’s the best of both worlds. If you’re a fan of Freddy and Jason and all those guys, do yourself a service and try out Black Christmas this Halloween, get a little learning on the Founding Fathers of Slashers. If you’ve been good, maybe Santa won’t stab you to death in your sleep this year.
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