Black Christmas
Dir. Bob Clark
Black Christmas is one of the earliest slasher films and strongly contributed to the blueprint, visual grammer and codification of the sub-genre. It tells of the residents of a sorority house who begin receiving unsettling and obscene phone calls during the run up to the Christmas holidays. Someone then breaks into the house, hides in the attic, and begins killing the young women one by one. The tale unfolds at a stalking-through-the-snow pace, ensuring the tension builds steadily to a genuinely shocking and chillingly bleak climax.
The characters of Black Christmas are certainly more fleshed out than many other slasher film characters, and several are even quite complex, with rich inner lives. While the film is lauded for establishing various slasher movie conventions, it also addresses social issues such as women’s safety on campus, abortion, alcohol abuse, parental neglect, and domestic violence. With the characters already living with all these personal anxieties, tension only becomes more heightened when a mysterious stalker hides out in their attic and starts picking them off one by one. The characters are brilliantly portrayed by a top-notch cast, including Margot Kidder and Olivia Hussey, and their credible, solid performances help to enhance proceedings. The characters are likable and relatable, they do everything they're supposed to (call the police, look out for each other), so when they are eventually murdered, it feels genuinely tragic.
This was the film that would introduce the characteristics and conventions that were eventually bled dry in the slew of slashers that followed, and it remains a carefully constructed piece of shock cinema; low-key chills interspersed with slices of shocking brutality (notably the death of Kidder involving an ornamental crystal unicorn) add up to an engrossing and unforgettable climax. Throughout, Clark pays homage to the work of Mario Bava, particularly Blood and Black Lace (1964) and Bay of Blood (1971) and the films of Dario Argento. The lurid giallo flicks of these two directors inspired the American slasher boom in the early Eighties: moody body-count films reveling in morbid atmospherics and brutal violence. Much of the camera work in Black Christmas reflects the similar aesthetics of Bava and Argento. Clark cannily cuts between the killer’s point of view, the victim’s and that of the audience, resulting in a frenzied, panic-stricken flurry. Shots of the killer’s omniscient eye spying out of the murky depths of the house permeate the film, heightening the tension and anxiety. Slow camera tracking and partially obscured shots ensure the viewer is kept firmly on the edge of their seat; the stalker could potentially lunge out from anywhere, and at times we’re not sure if we are seeing things from his eyes, or simply through the detached lens of Clark’s prowling camera.
The setting is also perfect for inducing an unshakable uneasy feeling - a big, comfortable house that one would expect to be perfectly safe in, lit up for Christmas and swathed in snow. While picturesque and inviting, it is eventually rendered an eerie and sinister place: within its cosily lit halls and around every dark corner lurks a potential threat.
While much on offer is visually arresting, there is also a nerve-jangling soundtrack, a lot of which consists of haunting Christmas carols; twisted into spooky, creepy renditions due to the heightened tension and unsettling atmosphere. The noises that seep through the receiver during the obscene phone call scenes are deeply disturbing; a mixture of maniacal, inhuman cackling and guttural, primal grunts and moans. The pièce de résistance comes towards the end of the film, when it’s fiendish urban legend inspired twist occurs, and the characters realise with horror where exactly the obscene calls are coming from…
If you aren’t in the mood for the usual Christmas holiday TV schedule, and you fancy something spine-tingling and unnerving, Black Christmas will provide a full-blooded alternative. Just make sure you check under your bed afterwards before you get into it.
