DON’T
OPEN ‘TIL CHRISTMAS (1984)
Directed by Edmund Purdom
Vestron VHS
Reviewed 12.22.04
Review by Joseph A. Ziemba
THE FILM
I’m trying really hard to
stand up. Really, I am. But a street
cleaner just made the rounds and
delicate snow is beginning to fall,
ever so slightly. It’s nice
and cozy out here on the curb; the
stars above, the poop water below.
I guess the old saying is true.
Once you lie down in the gutter,
it’s hard to get up.
Take my raunchy, UK-lensed friend
here, for instance. Goes by the
name of Don’t Open ‘Til
Christmas. Going in, you’d
expect a film that centers around
a Santa-slaying slasher to contain
a certain level of...how do I say
it...hysterical putridity? By the
time you realize just how low this
bumbling film can get, it’s
too late. You’re forced to
grab a hitch on Santa’s soot-covered
sleigh and witness a waterfall of
literal dirtiness, far beyond the
confines of the everyday slasher.
Which isn’t necessarily a
bad thing. In fact, it’s quite
hilarious.
No plot reiteration, let’s
cut to the chase. Don’t
Open ‘Til Christmas is
a weird mess of bad editing and
anticlimactic, yet alarming, kill
scenes. It exists for no good reason,
other than to demonstrate how engaging
a total piece of garbage can be.
The story centers around a crazy-eyed
killer who has a hankering for creatively
disposing of Santa Claus-clad people.
There are a few policemen running
around and a weak attempt at developing
“leads.” Interspersed
between large continuity errors
and inappropriate camera shakes
are what seems like twenty to thirty
kill scenes. This sucker cuts right
to it and doesn’t let up,
as our Kris Kringles are snuffed
out by a variety of inventive methods:
sword in the back of the head and
out through the mouth, knife-boot
to the groin, face to the roasted
chestnuts, a face-melt that I couldn’t
figure out, and the piece de resistance,
castration while urinating. That’s
right. There’s also an extended
bit of leering nudity, a peep show
killing, and a scene that unveils
mommy and Santa Claus engaging in
much more than kissing. Par for
the 80s course, we even get a new
wave disco performance from some
hack-job bar band (featuring Hammer
actress Caroline Munro as its lead
singer). But don’t worry.
Everything is “explained”
in a rushed, downbeat, and blathering
ending.
Here’s where the guffaws come
in. If Don’t Open ‘Til
Christmas was effectively presented
on ANY technical level, it would
stand as a pretty disturbing film,
based on mean-spiritedness alone.
Lucky for us, that’s not the
case. Witness dubbed lines that
appear without mouth movement. Cringe
at the cheese-spook score, popping
up every five seconds, regardless
of what’s transpiring onscreen.
Scratch your head at the bicycle
riding Santa, fumbling around some
kind of wax museum in a drunken
stupor for nearly ten minutes. Bleed
your eyes at the same Scotland Yard
establishing shot, utilized close
to ten times throughout the film.
Stand amazed at the incredible cheapness
(read: scary) of the Santa Claus
costumes. There’s oh so much
more, but some of the gifts must
remain unwrapped.
Oh, and before you ask...no, the
British accents do not add an air
of sophistication to the proceedings.
AUDIO AND VIDEO
After tracking down a rental copy
at my favorite authentic ma and
pa video store, I was a little worried.
The grease was prominent. Luckily,
my VCR made it out alive and so
did the very-watched tape. The picture
was murky and the mono sound was
hissed to the max.
EXTRAS
Vestron delivers the analog coal.
Eventhough I was super nice this
year.
FINAL THOUGHTS
Filthy! Don’t Open ‘Til
Christmas is not a good time
romp that you’ll want to revisit.
However, there’s no way you
can go without seeing this film.
Preeminent gutter garbage, perfect
for the holidays. Grandma Ruth will
love it. |
He's all business
Conjugal peep show
And the band plays on
Urinal embarassment
|
