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‘Black Christmas’ Remains the Pinnacle of Holiday Horror Classics [12 Days of Creepmas]

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Black Christmas

Merry Creepmas, you filthy animals. The final day of Bloody Disgusting’s 12 Days of Creepmas is here, and it feels only fitting to celebrate with the reigning champion of holiday horror: Bob Clark’s Black Christmas.

In case you missed any of the holiday festivities, you can keep track of the 12 Days of Creepmas here.

Released in 1974, Black Christmas has a simple setup on paper; over Christmas break, the residents of a sorority house are stalked and preyed upon by an unseen foe. Thanks to director Bob Clark and screenwriter Roy Moore, the plot isn’t quite so simple as it sounds thanks to a wonderfully complex cast of characters and character-driven moments that enhance the horror.

Scene-stealer Barb (Margot Kidder) is foul-mouthed and unapologetic, and her pranks or drunken quips ensure this sorority house is full of life. Barb is the precise type of handful that likely wears on housemother Mrs. MacHenry (Marian Waldman), who has hidden bottles of booze in the strangest of places throughout the house. Phyl (Andrea Martin), in many ways, acts as the true housemother as she looks after her fellow sisters. We never get to know Clare (Lynne Griffin), except for how much she’s loved by her boyfriend, family, and sorority sisters before she becomes the killer’s first victim in a memorable death sequence. At the center of it all is final girl Jess Bradford (Olivia Hussey), who has a lot more on her mind than the holidays.

Olivia Hussey as Jess in Black Christmas

Jess is at a critical turning point in her relationship with short-tempered music student Peter (Keir Dullea); he thinks they’ll get married and she’ll support his dreams, while she has goals and plans for her future. They don’t include a baby, much to Peter’s chagrin. That sets Peter up as a prime suspect in Clark’s atmospheric slasher that plays by its own set of rules. But it also sets Jess apart from the final girls that would follow, starting with Halloween‘s Laurie Strode. Jess may be venturing into controversial waters with her steadfast decision to abort her baby, but Moore smartly dedicates time to demonstrate just how kind Jess is when it comes to being there for her friends.

Through this sorority house and its devoted friendships and the warm holiday feels, Black Christmas stretches out its taut suspense. From the opening moments, we watch through the killer’s POV as he climbs the trellis and sets up camp in the Pi Kappa Sigma attic. Yet, for most of the runtime, the residents of the sorority house remain oblivious until it’s far too late. One by one, the unseen stalker bides his time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. The unsettling realization that the holidays offer the perfect cover for murder permeates. No one bats an eye at the sisters who go missing; they surely must’ve gone home for Christmas, right?

Billy may be an opportunistic killer here, but he wants his acts known to his future targets. He torments the women with disturbing phone calls, filled with heavy breathing and skin-crawling obscenities that feel all the more offensive because they arrive at one of the holiest times of the year. Because we get attached to these characters, their demises are all the more tragic and horrific.

Black Christmas

As if that wasn’t enough to solidify Black Christmas‘ place in holiday horror and slasher canon, Clark and Moore demonstrate profound awareness that random acts of violence are often far more unsettling and nightmare inducing than clean motives and tidy killer reveals.

Almost a decade later, Bob Clark would once again nail the holiday movie with the effortlessly charming A Christmas Story, earning him a worthy reputation for crafting holiday masterpieces. But Clark had impressive horror efforts under his belt before Black Christmas; the comedic Children Shouldn’t Play with Dead Things and brooding Monkey’s Paw tale Deathdream. The latter feels like a perfect precursor to Black Christmas, especially when combined with Clark’s executive producer work on sleazy Ed Gein-inspired psychological horror movie Deranged, co-directed and written by frequent Clark collaborator Alan Ormsby (Deathdream, Children Shouldn’t Play with Dead Things).

Black Christmas influenced and shaped the horror genre- and slashers specifically- in profound ways. It embraces its holiday theming so fully in ways that many holiday horror doesn’t quite. But it’s that perfect marriage of sleazy slasher thrills with authentic characters attempting to navigate the stresses of the holiday season, and life, that makes Black Christmas the pinnacle of holiday horror.

Luckily, you can stream this gem now on AMC+, Crackle, Fandor, Kanopy, Peacock, SCREAMBOX, Shudder, Tubi, and The Roku Channel.

Break out the crystal figurines, pour yourself a glass of spiked eggnog, and put watch the definitive holiday horror classic this Creepmas. And seasons bleedings for all.

Black Christmas crystals with Barb's bloody hand

Horror journalist, RT Top Critic, and Critics Choice Association member. Co-Host of the Bloody Disgusting Podcast. Has appeared on PBS series' Monstrum, served on the SXSW Midnighter shorts jury, and moderated horror panels for WonderCon and SeriesFest.

Editorials

What’s Wrong with My Baby!? Larry Cohen’s ‘It’s Alive’ at 50

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Netflix It's Alive

Soon after the New Hollywood generation took over the entertainment industry, they started having children. And more than any filmmakers that came before—they were terrified. Rosemary’s Baby (1968), The Exorcist (1973), The Omen (1976), Eraserhead (1977), The Brood (1979), The Shining (1980), Possession (1981), and many others all deal, at least in part, with the fears of becoming or being a parent. What if my child turns out to be a monster? is corrupted by some evil force? or turns out to be the fucking Antichrist? What if I screw them up somehow, or can’t help them, or even go insane and try to kill them? Horror has always been at its best when exploring relatable fears through extreme circumstances. A prime example of this is Larry Cohen’s 1974 monster-baby movie It’s Alive, which explores the not only the rollercoaster of emotions that any parent experiences when confronted with the difficulties of raising a child, but long-standing questions of who or what is at fault when something goes horribly wrong.

Cohen begins making his underlying points early in the film as Frank Davis (John P. Ryan) discusses the state of the world with a group of expectant fathers in a hospital waiting room. They discuss the “overabundance of lead” in foods and the environment, smog, and pesticides that only serve to produce roaches that are “bigger, stronger, and harder to kill.” Frank comments that this is “quite a world to bring a kid into.” This has long been a discussion point among people when trying to decide whether to have kids or not. I’ve had many conversations with friends who have said they feel it’s irresponsible to bring children into such a violent, broken, and dangerous world, and I certainly don’t begrudge them this. My wife and I did decide to have children but that doesn’t mean that it’s been easy.

Immediately following this scene comes It’s Alive’s most famous sequence in which Frank’s wife Lenore (Sharon Farrell) is the only person left alive in her delivery room, the doctors clawed and bitten to death by her mutant baby, which has escaped. “What does my baby look like!? What’s wrong with my baby!?” she screams as nurses wheel her frantically into a recovery room. The evening that had begun with such joy and excitement at the birth of their second child turned into a nightmare. This is tough for me to write, but on some level, I can relate to this whiplash of emotion. When my second child was born, they came about five weeks early. I’ll use the pronouns “they/them” for privacy reasons when referring to my kids. Our oldest was still very young and went to stay with my parents and we sped off to the hospital where my wife was taken into an operating room for an emergency c-section. I was able to carry our newborn into the NICU (natal intensive care unit) where I was assured that this was routine for all premature births. The nurses assured me there was nothing to worry about and the baby looked big and healthy. I headed to where my wife was taken to recover to grab a few winks assuming that everything was fine. Well, when I awoke, I headed back over to the NICU to find that my child was not where I left them. The nurse found me and told me that the baby’s lungs were underdeveloped, and they had to put them in a special room connected to oxygen tubes and wires to monitor their vitals.

It’s difficult to express the fear that overwhelmed me in those moments. Everything turned out okay, but it took a while and I’m convinced to this day that their anxiety struggles spring from these first weeks of life. As our children grew, we learned that two of the three were on the spectrum and that anxiety, depression, ADHD, and OCD were also playing a part in their lives. Parents, at least speaking for myself, can’t help but blame themselves for the struggles their children face. The “if only” questions creep in and easily overcome the voices that assure us that it really has nothing to do with us. In the film, Lenore says, “maybe it’s all the pills I’ve been taking that brought this on.” Frank muses aloud about how he used to think that Frankenstein was the monster, but when he got older realized he was the one that made the monster. The aptly named Frank is wondering if his baby’s mutation is his fault, if he created the monster that is terrorizing Los Angeles. I have made plenty of “if only” statements about myself over the years. “If only I hadn’t had to work so much, if only I had been around more when they were little.” Mothers may ask themselves, “did I have a drink, too much coffee, or a cigarette before I knew I was pregnant? Was I too stressed out during the pregnancy?” In other words, most parents can’t help but wonder if it’s all their fault.

At one point in the film, Frank goes to the elementary school where his baby has been sighted and is escorted through the halls by police. He overhears someone comment about “screwed up genes,” which brings about age-old questions of nature vs. nurture. Despite the voices around him from doctors and detectives that say, “we know this isn’t your fault,” Frank can’t help but think it is, and that the people who try to tell him it isn’t really think it’s his fault too. There is no doubt that there is a hereditary element to the kinds of mental illness struggles that my children and I deal with. But, and it’s a bit but, good parenting goes a long way in helping children deal with these struggles. Kids need to know they’re not alone, a good parent can provide that, perhaps especially parents that can relate to the same kinds of struggles. The question of nature vs. nurture will likely never be entirely answered but I think there’s more than a good chance that “both/and” is the case. Around the midpoint of the film, Frank agrees to disown the child and sign it over for medical experimentation if caught or killed. Lenore and the older son Chris (Daniel Holzman) seek to nurture and teach the baby, feeling that it is not a monster, but a member of the family.

It’s Alive takes these ideas to an even greater degree in the fact that the Davis Baby really is a monster, a mutant with claws and fangs that murders and eats people. The late ’60s and early ’70s also saw the rise in mass murderers and serial killers which heightened the nature vs. nurture debate. Obviously, these people were not literal monsters but human beings that came from human parents, but something had gone horribly wrong. Often the upbringing of these killers clearly led in part to their antisocial behavior, but this isn’t always the case. It’s Alive asks “what if a ‘monster’ comes from a good home?” In this case is it society, environmental factors, or is it the lead, smog, and pesticides? It is almost impossible to know, but the ending of the film underscores an uncomfortable truth—even monsters have parents.

As the film enters its third act, Frank joins the hunt for his child through the Los Angeles sewers and into the L.A. River. He is armed with a rifle and ready to kill on sight, having divorced himself from any relationship to the child. Then Frank finds his baby crying in the sewers and his fatherly instincts take over. With tears in his eyes, he speaks words of comfort and wraps his son in his coat. He holds him close, pats and rocks him, and whispers that everything is going to be okay. People often wonder how the parents of those who perform heinous acts can sit in court, shed tears, and defend them. I think it’s a complex issue. I’m sure that these parents know that their child has done something evil, but that doesn’t change the fact that they are still their baby. Your child is a piece of yourself formed into a whole new human being. Disowning them would be like cutting off a limb, no matter what they may have done. It doesn’t erase an evil act, far from it, but I can understand the pain of a parent in that situation. I think It’s Alive does an exceptional job placing its audience in that situation.

Despite the serious issues and ideas being examined in the film, It’s Alive is far from a dour affair. At heart, it is still a monster movie and filled with a sense of fun and a great deal of pitch-black humor. In one of its more memorable moments, a milkman is sucked into the rear compartment of his truck as red blood mingles with the white milk from smashed bottles leaking out the back of the truck and streaming down the street. Just after Frank agrees to join the hunt for his baby, the film cuts to the back of an ice cream truck with the words “STOP CHILDREN” emblazoned on it. It’s a movie filled with great kills, a mutant baby—created by make-up effects master Rick Baker early in his career, and plenty of action—and all in a PG rated movie! I’m telling you, the ’70s were wild. It just also happens to have some thoughtful ideas behind it as well.

Which was Larry Cohen’s specialty. Cohen made all kinds of movies, but his most enduring have been his horror films and all of them tackle the social issues and fears of the time they were made. God Told Me To (1976), Q: The Winged Serpent (1982), and The Stuff (1985) are all great examples of his socially aware, low-budget, exploitation filmmaking with a brain and It’s Alive certainly fits right in with that group. Cohen would go on to write and direct two sequels, It Lives Again (aka It’s Alive 2) in 1978 and It’s Alive III: Island of the Alive in 1987 and is credited as a co-writer on the 2008 remake. All these films explore the ideas of parental responsibility in light of the various concerns of the times they were made including abortion rights and AIDS.

Fifty years after It’s Alive was initially released, it has only become more relevant in the ensuing years. Fears surrounding parenthood have been with us since the beginning of time but as the years pass the reasons for these fears only seem to become more and more profound. In today’s world the conversation of the fathers in the waiting room could be expanded to hormones and genetic modifications in food, terrorism, climate change, school and other mass shootings, and other threats that were unknown or at least less of a concern fifty years ago. Perhaps the fearmongering conspiracy theories about chemtrails and vaccines would be mentioned as well, though in a more satirical fashion, as fears some expectant parents encounter while endlessly doomscrolling Facebook or Twitter. Speaking for myself, despite the struggles, the fears, and the sadness that sometimes comes with having children, it’s been worth it. The joys ultimately outweigh all of that, but I understand the terror too. Becoming a parent is no easy choice, nor should it be. But as I look back, I can say that I’m glad we made the choice we did.

I wonder if Frank and Lenore can say the same thing.

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