Black Christmas

Black Christmas

To the tune of “Up on the Housetop”:

Up in the frat house, there’s one true fact
And that is, that I was attacked.
Ho ho ho, I didn’t know.
Ho ho ho, I didn’t know.
Because up in the frat house, click click click.
You  slipped me a roofie,
And then your dick.“

Toxic feminism is the central theme of this film whether it likes it or not. The generalised views shared against men are blatantly offensive here, and poorly wielding the righteous blade of feminism in the worst manner possible. In no way is it my intention to state that all men are good upstanding members of society (far from it), but not every guy has the same mentality and manner of a frat-bro numpty. And quite frankly, I do think that this is going to even paint some women in a more undeserving negative light, due to some not so tasteful choices in plot and script. There are films that manage to force their messages upon its audiences in an artistic manner, films that strengthen and support their targeted cause or movement with bold statements and decisions. Takal and Wolfe’s Black Christmas is not one of them. Bolstering a wide variety of very unsubtle pokes at contemporary mainly United States affairs, ranging from rape culture, fraternity hazing, police injustice, social status, gender inequality, to even a Kavanaugh “I like beer” reference. Most of you can probably name a film that force feeds its message down your throat, Black Christmas does exactly that. 


The original Black Christmas arguably established the foundations of what would four years later be solidified as the slasher sub-genre, with Halloween. As stated I have yet to see the first mid-2000s remake, but I can wholeheartedly state that the 2019 female version has nothing innovative to showcase nor say that Bob Clark’s original film and even Margot Kidder’s supporting role didn’t already do better 45 years ago. I’d go as far to state that this remake should have been its own IP in general, as it really shares nothing of note to the original. It might have actually done itself more harm by piggybacking onto a beloved cult classic, and adding it’s own entirely bland twist. All the scares are telegraphed far ahead of the reveal, it lacks any creative kill (like the original), the musical score is non-existent, the cinematography relies mostly in the Christmas mood lighting, and all the acting is serviceable at best. One could forgive the acting, as aside from a wasted Imogen Poots and a phoned-in Cary Elwes, everyone is a newcomer. 

At the end of the day, Black Christmas fails at every single level, joining the likes of Eli, The Silence, Polar, and 47 Meters Down: Uncaged as kindling to my dumpster fire. 




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