When I saw that there was going to be a second remake of one of the first films in the “slasher” genre, I can’t say that I was excited for yet another reinterpretation of a film that already had a previously poorly received remake. I’m not sure what I expected, but it definitely wasn’t someone trying to inject thoughtful social commentary — a la Get Out — into a film with the same plot as Sorority House Massacre with the subtlety of an infant. What it’s going for is noble and while I generally agree with the rough ideas of what the film is advocating for, chalking gender inequality up to the black magic of a dead college founder is in no way doing any favors for the advancement of women in society (let alone bringing anything new to the table). Not to mention, it’s one of the most atrociously executed films of all time. Black Christmas fails on almost every level except for presentation (slightly); leading me to confidently conclude that this is one of (if not) the worst films of the decade.
Black Christmas follows a members of a sorority as they are being systematically killed off by a hooded killer. Riley Stone (Imogen Poots) is getting ready for another winter break at the sorority house as she has no family to go home to. Hawthorne College feels like what one would think all universities are like if all they had for reference were the sensationalized television news stories where founders’ statues are being removed and students are signing petitions against literature written exclusively by white men. It’s a gross misrepresentation that frames college social activists as bumbling idiots while trying to advocate for females’ empowerment. This dynamic which feels equal parts progressive and out of touch stems from a director Sophia Takal’s vision being impaired by executives driven by profit. Along with her friends Marty, Kris, and Jesse, Riley works her way through life post-sexual assault (that went unpunished) where she is taunted by fraternity members, struggling with the trauma that accompanies such a horrific act, and putting up with a professor (Cary Elwes) who seems to be the model antagonist to advancement for women. After ridiculing the enabling fraternity at a talent show, things begin to get strange as the sorority members begin to receive messages from their dead college founder and others don’t make it home for the holidays on time. These incidents eventually ramp up; culminating in a home invasion spearheaded by the hooded killer.
Black Christmas opens as most slashers would with a kill early on to entice the fans of the genre over while a dry spell ensues. It is odd judging violence, but in the context of what this film is, it utterly fails at any conveying any sense of the gruesome nature of what’s happening on screen. Slashers are remembered for creative kills and dimwitted archetypical leads who the audience couldn’t care less for. Genre boundaries aren’t necessarily always best when followed, but when the split is about 50/50 between following the rules and flipping them on their head, the result comes out as neither safe nor bold. The film wallows in mediocrity that — in this case — is then further diminished by its inability to successfully piggyback off of ideas of social commentary popularized in the contemporary horror films of Jordan Peele. What this results in is Get Out by way of the Platinum Dunes Friday the 13th, which is just as obtuse as it sounds.
While having a feminist message isn’t a detriment to the film whatsoever, the way in which the film frames and delivers these ideas feels amateur and clumsy. There’s something to be said about the parallels between the overt nature of murder in slashers and the straightforward delivery of the message, but it isn’t handled in a way that warrants any praise, aside from conceptualization, in its execution, which falls flat on its face. What seems to be the biggest detriment to the film’s feminist drive once again falls to the genre trappings of the slasher, which is by nature without depth. They’re lowly movies that people (including myself) watch for creative violence. Aside from The Texas Chainsaw Massacre and maybe Halloween, I can’t think of any film in this subgenre that really makes you think. To reiterate, Black Christmas didn’t have to immerse itself in genre trappings, but it did partially and in doing so failed to balance on the fine line between dumb fun and meaningful commentary. The blunt nature of the thematic ideas is partially due to the nature of the film’s genre. There’s a difference between the straightforward nature of Jason Voorhees beating someone in a sleeping bag against a tree and having a majority of the characters state the point of the movie as if the audience is too stupid to get it. The film’s message isn’t the problem, but it’s how it’s delivered that ultimately ruins the outcome.
In looking back at issues with the film, what started out as a single issue with it being a poor vessel for an examination of continual gender inequality in the film industry blossomed into a multitude of issues. The second remake of a relatively well-regarded genre film was completely unnecessary given the failure of its 2006 predecessor. Reconceptualizing the story to be one of black magic practicing frat brothers is far less compelling than the gritty reality of the original. It’s an obvious cash grab for wintertime horror with poor attempts to add a distinct edge by making it about contemporary society. This film is offensive because it treats its audience like five-year-olds; beating them over the head with a direct message as if subtext would be lost on the audience. The more I think about it the more frustrated I get with the fact that Universal executives thought that this was passable. It is undoubtedly the worst film I’ve seen. As far as female-empowering modern takes on old genres, watch Death Proof instead.
.5/5 STARS