Editorials
10 Underrated Christmas Horror Movies!
Ah, December’s yuletide rat race. As mothers bake gingerbread rooftops and fathers slaughter prickly Douglas Firs for living room decorations, joy spreads like a holly-jolly infection. How gross. My festive spirit stays true to horror’s cold grasp; an obsessive focus that’s devoured 94 Christmas horror films as of this posted date. Possessed ugly sweaters, sequels to atrocious “Elf On A Shelf” horror films that blatantly rip off Blumhouse’s Truth Or Dare, killer snowmen, killer reindeer, killer cookies – only visions of madness dance through my head.
*Takes one long, contemplative drag from a halfway ashed cigarette while gazing hard into the distance.*
Putting my wealth of “knowledge” to positive use, I’ve reached deep into my sack of goodies and pulled out the oddest, least discussed, “see these right now” Christmas horror tiles for your late seasonal viewing. If you *have* caught any of these, you’re my kind of people. If not, multiple streaming platforms – Shudder, Amazon Prime, Hulu – offer ways to remedy festive malaise. Oh, and before you go all “BUT WHERE’S KRAMPUS AND ANNA AND THE APOCALYPSE AND [INSERT XMAS HORROR MOVIES FANS TALK ABOUT MORE FREQUENTLY], I’ve listed them below. Too many sites already did that job already – let’s get even weirder.
Honorable, More Widely Promoted Mentions: Anna And The Apocalypse, Rare Exports, Krampus, Silent Night, Deadly Night, Better Watch Out, Santa’s Slay, Silent Night, Deadly Night 2.
Santa Jaws
Santa Jaws might remind of the same SYFY/Asylum collaborations not worth more than a title gimmick, but save your hasty judgments. Low budgets and Christmas themes bring to life a “nerdy” child’s comic book creation (magical pen backstory) – SANTA JAWS! Her eyes glow like Rudolph’s nose, a candy cane horn skewers victims, colored strands of Xmas lights double as lassos, and a Santa hat covers the beast’s dorsal fin. As Bloody Disgusting’s own Chris Coffel already mused, it’s not the most technically proficient shark attack film in terms of CGI deaths. Good thing the cast’s deep-end dive into tonal absurdity sells Santa Jaws as the pun-a-minute entertainer that deserves a few glasses of eggnog (or just bourbon to save those calories). Give this one a stream on SYFY’s website!
Deadly Games
Thanks to Fantastic Fest, I caught René Manzor’s Deadly Games (1989) – aka Game Over, aka 36.15 code Père Noël – earlier this year and all my wildest Christmas horror dreams came true. Thomas (Alain Lalanne) is a wee Rambo-in-training/technology guru who must evade an unstable Santa Claus (Patrick Floersheim) inside his family’s mansion. Thomas spreads on facial camouflage, sets multiple traps à la Home Alone (which came *after*), and evokes adolescent adventure inside massive rooms filled by with his mother’s department store take-homes (toybox goodies from French retailer Printemps). Not to mention how Floersheim’s desire to “play” sets an uncomfortable tone that balances playground hide-and-seek with assumed death.
There’s no current North American release as of yet, but I could see Deadly Games ending up on Shudder (better decades late than never). It’s also touring Alamo Drafthouses and arthouse theaters alike, so keep an eye out. Impossibly fun, loaded with trickster turns, and everything that screams genre entertainment through a holiday lens.
The Day of the Beast
When you have a chance to plug Álex de la Iglesia, you plug Álex de la Iglesia. In this case, his cult Christmas horror tale The Day of the Beast. It’s the end of the world as we know it, unless three unlikely “wise” men can prevent a religious apocalypse. The priest who must sin every chance he gets, the record store metalhead obsessed with black hymns, and the Italian celebrity occultist. Much like Iglesia’s future films, El Día De La Bestia is a blend of morbid humor and genre manipulations such as satanic goat forms. Bonus points for deconstructing Christmas’ religious background in the process.
Dead End
An open-road psychological horror film that traps Ray Wise and Lin Shaye on a time-loop stretch of unending backwoods highway? Jean-Baptiste Andrea and Fabrice Canepa write/direct this sensationally underrated masterclass in character acting from two veterans who chew Christmas frustrations like succulent chunks of roast beast. Dead End is far more intriguing than its brief premise. Tensions, paranoia, and insanity fog car windows as souls are claimed one by one. Excuse my brevity, but it’s better knowing less about this one – trust the process of Shaye and Wise here.
Blood Beat
Fabrice A. Zaphiratos’ Blood Beat is quintessential 80s after-dark absurdity from start to finish. “A woman who lives in deer-hunting country in rural Wisconsin is possessed by the spirit of a Japanese samurai warrior.” THAT’S THE REAL SYNOPSIS. Is it any surprise this was a Vinegar Syndrome re-release? Even better, Zaphiratos delivers a slasher pastiche of bloody deaths and oddly sensual bedroom interludes all during a family’s Christmas getaway. Glowing samurai ghost forms and all. Why do I have to say any more? Blood Beat, beers, and buddies. Crank up your merriest memories this year midnight movie style.
Silent Night, Bloody Night
Theodore Gershuny’s Silent Night, Bloody Night predates Bob Clark’s Black Christmas by two years, but despite noticeable similarities, Clark’s classic never screams copycat outrage. These two deadly lullabies play tremendously well together, both evoking the horrors of home invasions around the holidays. Gershuny goes a more “Hammer Horror” route with his relator’s nightmare, a small-town home with a nasty repeating history. Quite the slow burn, boiled and overheated until sleepy rustic isolation leads to a most disturbing enacting of posed threats that prove themselves true. Not to be confused with Silent Night, Deadly Night, that’s for certain.
La Nuit Du Réveillon (Silent Night, Bloody Night)
Search Amazon Prime for Silent Night, Bloody Night and this French made-for-TV hostage flick appears after Theodore Gershuny’s 70s broiler of the same (translated) name. Don’t be fooled – these titles couldn’t be more different. La Nuit Du Réveillon exposes corporate scumminess and infidelity during an intruder’s impromptu gift-giving game. A dinner amongst friends sabotaged by an armed Santa Claus who dares to reveal everyone’s nastiest secrets. Energy, tension, and an entertaining take on more generic plotted fare make this import worth the stream.
The Children
Who Could Kill A Child? begs the unanswerable question that Tom Shankland’s The Children answers. Movies like Krampus gobble children, but what plays out in this wonderland rage-virus tragedy is one of the season’s most gruesome treats. Sons and daughters smile impishly as they attack their parents. It’s not even enough to ask if you could kill a child – could you kill your *own* child? Unspeakably dark, situationally depraved, and massively f#*ked up on levels that Christmas horror rarely ever reach – this adolescent manipulation on weaponized innocence is anything but child’s play.
Sheitan (Satan)
Admittedly the least Christmassy of the bunch, Kim Chapiron’s Sheitan runs on the enigmatic, xenophobic, backwoods-devil-worshipping power of Vincent Cassel. Clubbers end up accompanying potential hookups back to a farmhouse maintained by Cassel’s wackjob, Joseph. Things get predictably odd, thoughts of sexual conquest morph into hopes for survival, and Cassel’s performance deeply discomforts as Christmas Eve passes. Deliciously mad escapism dreadfulness for the holiday season you can only expect from France. Improper, artistic, and stark raving mad.
Silent Night
Why don’t more Christmas horror fans talk about Steven C. Miller’s Silent Night? My gut balked at considering 2012’s loose Silent Night, Deadly Night remake “underrated,” but I’ve recommended it to far more first-time watchers than anticipated. Alongside Black Christmas (2006), it’s one of the few recent larger-budget Xmas slashers that rolls deep into festive kills, rich coats of gore, and psycho Santa depravity (comparatively, of course). That wood chipper kill? The whole sequence, really? Miller knows how to deck the halls in practical goop. Malcolm McDowell, flamethrowers, and a cynically bleak view on Christmas are just added benefits.
A Christmas Horror Story
A Christmas Horror Story crossroads two of my favorite scary subgenres: Christmas horror and anthology collections. William Shatner plays radio DJ “Dangerous” Dan, the film’s wraparound storyteller who narrates the chaos that plagues Bailey Downs each winter. Stories range from schoolyard investigators documenting their trespassers’ investigation, a Christmas tree outing gone wrong, and even – wait for it – zombie elves! Truthfully, this might contain my favorite cinematic ode to Krampus’ style with Rob Archer’s frostbitten horned warrior. Not every segment tracks as well as the anthology’s peak content, but what works does so at the top of Christmas horror lists. Decapitated undead elves, alcohol-soaked Shatner, a Krampus vs. Santa throwdown worth pay-per-view numbers – A Christmas Horror Story is one of my favorite underseen December stocking stuffers.
College kids, strippers and vampires—those were Donald P. Borchers’ only requirements when he approached Richard Wenk about writing and directing a movie for New World Pictures. As requested, Wenk cooked up Vamp (1986), a tailor-made blend of the decade’s teen movie craze as well as its horror boom.
Grim and earnest stories were still very much a part of the ’80s horror landscape, yet Vamp is something of a comedy. One difference between it and, say, Saturday the 14th, though, is the former avoids using schtick. Wenk’s movie proves that horror comedies also don’t have to subtract thrills from their recipes. Of course, it takes a minute before reaching that point; college antics and culture shocks preface this one macabre misadventure.
Vamp‘s initial setup is apt for a typical college-set, sex-driven comedy; to bribe their way into a fraternity house, two pledges (Chris Makepeace, Robert Rusler) go looking for some adult entertainment. Without wasting time on any further exposition, the characters embark on an all-in-one-night trip that quickly detours into terror.
To procure their elusive MacGuffin—a stripper willing to gyrate for some frat boys—Keith (Makepeace) and AJ (Rusler), plus a third wheel named Duncan (Gedee Watanabe), trade the safety of their remote college campus for the seediness of some unnamed city. The setting is recognizably L.A. by day, but as soon as night falls, downtown, along with the characters, slips into a kind of surreal universe. Director of photography Elliot Davis gave this early entry on his prolific résumé an unusual yet distinctive look; that Mario Bava-esque, magenta-green lighting is omnipresent, so much so that it’s almost its own character.
Chris Makepeace and Robert Rusler in Vamp
The faint comparisons to Martin Scorsese’s After Hours are merited, although not just because of Vamp’s distinguishing nighttime aesthetic. Save for the primary characters, the supporting roles in Wenk’s movie are also quite colorful and transactional in their behavior. The difference here, though, is the additional urge to ruin Keith and his friends at every turn. Some of that harm is humorous and tolerable enough, whereas the moment Vamp dishes out its first fatality, it’s abundantly clear how this movie qualifies as horror.
Vamp falls into that category of horror movie that reveals its genre with a scream rather than a series of whispers. The opening scene can function as a hint of what lies ahead—things are not at all what they appear to be—but otherwise, Wenk is more than happy to hold off on the horror. When that time does come, though, it catches the viewer off guard. In addition to the pure shock value is that sudden decision to upend the movie’s foremost feature. Or so it would seem.
If afraid of major spoilage, those new to Vamp would be wise to stop reading here. There’s just no skirting around the fact that the central fellowship in this buddy movie hits a serious snag when AJ is killed. That development causes the story to become more of a “long, bad night” journey for Keith and his romantic interest. So while Wenk scores points for subverting expectations, there is also a touch of sadness in his decision. Because if Vamp does anything well, it’s making the characters likable.
Something that comes easily to Vamp—and other teen horror movies from this same era—is its ability to invent young characters worth caring about, or at the very least, are interesting and not so immediately off-putting. More impressive is how Wenk did all this without actually fleshing out those characters. Still and all, Keith and his kind are a grade above cookie-cutter, and in some cases, aren’t completely devoid of growth.
Grace Jones in Vamp
Vamp appeals with an assorted cast of characters. No two are the same, nor are they operating on the same wavelength. The cinematically extroverted AJ, whose actor conveyed charm and vulnerability in near equal amounts, comes alive when he’s at his most undead. Makepeace then makes the chronically cautious Keith a sympathetic fellow, even as he’s more and more affected by the night’s bizarre events. Meanwhile, Duncan is indeed the designated loser of the whole bunch, but Watanabe still manages to humanize him. As a bonus, the role didn’t require him to pull a Long Duk Dong.
As for Dedee Pfeiffer, she is plain adorable as the mysterious After Dark server nicknamed “Amaretto”. She spends all night fixing her dress strap while at the same time trying to get Keith to remember how he knows her. As their offbeat romance grows, it becomes another highlight of this movie. Whether or not Pfeiffer’s character is really a vampire also creates some welcome tension in the story.
Like a lot of its contemporaries, Vamp went on to become a bit of a cult classic. That current status is determined by several factors, but without a doubt, the casting of Grace Jones is the most considerable. The image of her writhing on that unique-looking chair, a Keith Haring original, springs to mind whenever this movie is brought up.
Chris Makepeace, Billy Drago and Paunita Nichols in Vamp
Prior to that first display of unequivocal horror, local vampire queen Katrina (Jones) took to the stage and delivered a strip show like no other. One would expect nothing less from that renowned model and performance artist. By now reports of Jones’ tardiness on set are no secret, yet it’s also hard to deny her commitment to the part of Katrina. It was, in fact, Jones who took charge of her character’s appearance—on top of Haring painting her body and that now-iconic chair, she had Andy Warhol handle her costuming. And not too many actors could seize a room’s attention without saying a single line of dialogue.
In 2022, Vamp received a retrospective novelization from Encyclopocalypse. This literary union of preexisting source material—Wenk’s original screenplay—and new ideas from author Christian Francis amounts to a more comprehensive visit to the After Dark Club. The basic story there is no different than what’s shown on screen; however, Francis gets creative with the characters’ origins and designs, and he enhances a number of key scenes.
The novelization expands on the urban and social decay of the main setting, and supplies a background for the After Dark Club. Sandy Baron’s character, Katrina’s emcee and familiar, is given ample motivation for sticking around; up until the fiery end, he is loyal to his friend and former business partner “Squeak”, who looks like he was “fed through a combine harvester, and left as nothing more than a heap of mangled remains”. Then there is Billy Drago’s character Snow, the leader of a street gang called The Dragons. His reason for menacing Keith and AJ is more altruistic than in the movie; he and his peers act tough to scare off any potential food for the vampires.
Lisa Lyon in Vamp
If not for all the backstories, Francis’ Vamp would be a hell of a lot shorter. Instead, this tie-in read dives into how AJ met Keith—the orphaned Anthony Joseph hailed from a broken home back in Brooklyn—and how their friendship flourished over the years. Keith’s archership is no longer just an assumed part of his entire being; it’s a confidence-building extracurricular for a boy who got picked on before coming into the protection of the new kid in town. These supplemental, in-depth looks at the protagonists, plus their close connection, are maybe unnecessary. The movie already did a fair and concise job of addressing their platonic intimacy without the need for flashbacks and insights, specifically in that scene where AJ lays it all out as he sacrifices himself.
Where the novelization gets off course is its approach to the minor characters. Intermittently backstorying the likes of Katrina’s indentured servants, Seko (Leila Hee Olsen) and Vlad (Brad Logan), ends up disturbing the flow of the writing. Was it absolutely essential that readers know Vlad was the Grand Duke of the House of Romanov, or how Snow’s accomplice Maven (Paunita Nichols) became so dentally challenged? No, not really. However, one’s mileage with these random biographies may vary.
The novelization is a more substantial experience, but for a movie like Vamp, less is more. And as plentiful as they are, it never simply coasts on its campy charms, either. The character work sits comfortably in that realm between cursory and meticulous, the script is sharper than first realized, and Greg Cannom’s vampire makeup is straightforward yet effective. Most of all, the movie didn’t squander its out-of-the-box concept. Richard Wenk made his vision of a “comic nightmare in which just about anything that can go wrong does” come true, and it is very enjoyable.
You must be logged in to post a comment.