BLACK CHRISTMAS
dir: Bob Clark
"Could that really be just one person?" - Clare
Brief Synopsis
A group of sorority girls receive disturbing phone calls in their house during the Christmas season, soon realizing the caller is kidnapping and murdering them one at a time.
Why It's Here
As a firm believer that over-analyzing art is only acceptable in moderation and in limited depth, my interpretation of Black Christmas scares even me. First of all, calling a low-budget Canadian slasher art is a leap of faith to most people, but for some reason, my reading of this film felt necessary. I've always enthusiastically rolled my eyes at scholars reading into films, paintings, and photographers because their purely insane theories seemed more like professors sniffing for diplomas than realistically analyzing the piece.
On the other hand, analysis of films, and even blatantly excessive readings can be interesting ways to view concepts in skewed perspectives and see different aspects to a film that initially seemed pointless or irrelevant to the plot. In my write-ups of other films, I often indulge in symbolic and metaphoric views of certain themes, but I usually I cut myself short of going overboard, in fear of becoming one of the humourless scholars that sap the interest and spontaneity out of every film they get their cold, dry hands upon. Right now though, I am holding nothing back, so don't say I didn't warn you.
Bob Clark's Black Christmas is one of the few films to come out of Canada that I can firmly say I am proud of. Quite the opposite of popular opinion which look at this as another shock exploitation film feeding on simple minded college girls in an irregular setting. It's all been seen and done before, and it's sick and twisted and why would anyone like it? Right? Almost, except for the fact that this film predates the slasher genre by a few years. John Carpenter's influential masterpiece Halloween swept in four years later inspiring countless slasher films and receiving mainstream reverence and being deemed culturally significant, placing it in the National Film Registry.
Indeed, Halloween is a masterpiece of the genre, and it's legacy is largely thanks to it's haunting antagonist. But it was Black Christmas that developed many of the stylistic concepts which helped shape Halloween into the film we all know and love. The first person perspective on the killing, the heavy breathing of the unseen killer, the exploitative nature of the suburban setting. All these key elements were derived from Bob Clark's unknown masterpiece.
Horror is a genre largely ignored by the film elite, film schools balk at the idea of taking it seriously, and whenever I tell anyone that Black Christmas is really an excellent film, the typical response is, "excellent for a horror film, right?". Scholars and the general public usually see the exploitative nature of horror films as morbid, the typical marketing conventions of horror films is shock imagery and drastic taglines (for example this film was promoted with the line "If this picture doesn't make your skin crawl... it's on too tight!"). The ridiculously frank nature of most low-brow horror titles removes any sense of artistry, giving the public no reason to view it as such.
Largely laughed off in the mainstream, the idea that Black Christmas is significant was upheld by the horror film community who managed to recognize it's pioneering efforts. Taking place during the Christmas holiday season at a sorority house, the story revolves around a group of sorority sisters and their comically over-the-top house mother who receive disturbing calls from an anonymous caller which they initially pass off as pranks until some of them begin to go missing. Before this film, horror films were largely set in bizarre locales that blended reality with fantasy worlds, strange monsters, or at the very least unfamiliar settings. Even Hitchcock's Psycho, which is largely considered a predecessor to the slasher subgenre was set in a rural motel far seperated from town. Black Christmas is among the changing styles in horror filmmaking that opted for a more "exploitative" story, ending the age of creature features. The killer is a human, a deranged and unpredictable psycho who doesn't live in a swamp or mansion or other theatrical setting, but instead in the shadows of your very home. Suddenly, horror films hit a more direct nerve, they struck a little closer to home when the viewer suddenly felt as if the feared murderer could be lurking right behind them in their own home, that they were never truly safe.
Invasive, cheap, and cruel in many ways, which is why so many critics turned their backs to this technique, but it also allowed for a much more direct scare for an audience that was gradually demanding more intense thrills as they yawned their way through the well-worn theme of fantasy horror and supernatural beings. But Black Christmas took a few more liberties with the horror archetype than other films were comfortable with. A risky move that made the film a legend, but could have easily turned it into a disaster: not revealing the killer. The entire film built up to the central mystery which pointed it's finger in an extremely routine manner from the edgy supporting character to the suspicious appearance of two speaking extras, to the trust-figures themselves. But what Black Christmas does to avoid making it a run-of-the-mill mystery is that it's suspicions act as a mere red herring, a distraction to make you think your fear will be resolved and you can return to your life in comfort. The film is unforgiving throughout, but here it shows how cruel it can be. The film ends without a proper conclusion and the audience is left to return to their lives still subconciously concerned that the horrifyingly twisted psycho is still lurking in the shadows and they don't even have a face to place upon him.
Here is where my theory gets wild. Where the weak should turn back and leave, if you are brave (or crazy) enough to listen further, try to think with an open mind.
Our killer is nameless, faceless, and really voiceless. His phone calls reveal numerous voices and apparent identities, and our only glimpse of the killer is in shadows with a highlighted eyeball allowing our minds enough information to process that the killer is human. In this sense, on at least a symbolic level, we can conclude that the killer isn't a deranged lunatic character any more than he is us, the audience. In many ways, this theory relates to the Funny Games school of thought. The audience is aware they are going into a horror film, there is no mistaking it. They are paying their money in an expectation that the main characters get systematically killed off. Ironically, our bloodlust and desire to see these characters get killed is what kills them. Our thirst for blood is the killers thirst for blood, so in a sense, we are the killer. The murders occur in first person, our killer speaks in jibberish that the characters can not understand, we exist in a realm that they can not touch. The police are helpless to stop him and the girls can't seem to identify where he is. He even is aware of Jessica's personal issues, something that one would expect only Peter and the audience to know. Even when the phone trace results emerge, the killer exists within the house. We are now supposed to believe that his screaming over the phone can not be heard from downstairs and that he somehow called from within the same home. The audience exists beyond the fourth wall in the house, which is why no one is able to track, find, or stop the killer before or after his whereabouts are known.
At the very least it's an interesting concept, a play between the audience and film on a level that's not quite interactive but toys with the idea. On a symbolic level it works and reinforces the idea that this is a pioneering effort. But even if you disapprove of these extreme readings, there is little to deny in the influence, and on a more simple level, the sheer horror of Black Christmas. It's surprisingly layered, and can be viewed as a stepping stone for an entire genre, or just as a really, really scary slasher.
On the other hand, analysis of films, and even blatantly excessive readings can be interesting ways to view concepts in skewed perspectives and see different aspects to a film that initially seemed pointless or irrelevant to the plot. In my write-ups of other films, I often indulge in symbolic and metaphoric views of certain themes, but I usually I cut myself short of going overboard, in fear of becoming one of the humourless scholars that sap the interest and spontaneity out of every film they get their cold, dry hands upon. Right now though, I am holding nothing back, so don't say I didn't warn you.
Bob Clark's Black Christmas is one of the few films to come out of Canada that I can firmly say I am proud of. Quite the opposite of popular opinion which look at this as another shock exploitation film feeding on simple minded college girls in an irregular setting. It's all been seen and done before, and it's sick and twisted and why would anyone like it? Right? Almost, except for the fact that this film predates the slasher genre by a few years. John Carpenter's influential masterpiece Halloween swept in four years later inspiring countless slasher films and receiving mainstream reverence and being deemed culturally significant, placing it in the National Film Registry.
Indeed, Halloween is a masterpiece of the genre, and it's legacy is largely thanks to it's haunting antagonist. But it was Black Christmas that developed many of the stylistic concepts which helped shape Halloween into the film we all know and love. The first person perspective on the killing, the heavy breathing of the unseen killer, the exploitative nature of the suburban setting. All these key elements were derived from Bob Clark's unknown masterpiece.
Horror is a genre largely ignored by the film elite, film schools balk at the idea of taking it seriously, and whenever I tell anyone that Black Christmas is really an excellent film, the typical response is, "excellent for a horror film, right?". Scholars and the general public usually see the exploitative nature of horror films as morbid, the typical marketing conventions of horror films is shock imagery and drastic taglines (for example this film was promoted with the line "If this picture doesn't make your skin crawl... it's on too tight!"). The ridiculously frank nature of most low-brow horror titles removes any sense of artistry, giving the public no reason to view it as such.
Largely laughed off in the mainstream, the idea that Black Christmas is significant was upheld by the horror film community who managed to recognize it's pioneering efforts. Taking place during the Christmas holiday season at a sorority house, the story revolves around a group of sorority sisters and their comically over-the-top house mother who receive disturbing calls from an anonymous caller which they initially pass off as pranks until some of them begin to go missing. Before this film, horror films were largely set in bizarre locales that blended reality with fantasy worlds, strange monsters, or at the very least unfamiliar settings. Even Hitchcock's Psycho, which is largely considered a predecessor to the slasher subgenre was set in a rural motel far seperated from town. Black Christmas is among the changing styles in horror filmmaking that opted for a more "exploitative" story, ending the age of creature features. The killer is a human, a deranged and unpredictable psycho who doesn't live in a swamp or mansion or other theatrical setting, but instead in the shadows of your very home. Suddenly, horror films hit a more direct nerve, they struck a little closer to home when the viewer suddenly felt as if the feared murderer could be lurking right behind them in their own home, that they were never truly safe.
Invasive, cheap, and cruel in many ways, which is why so many critics turned their backs to this technique, but it also allowed for a much more direct scare for an audience that was gradually demanding more intense thrills as they yawned their way through the well-worn theme of fantasy horror and supernatural beings. But Black Christmas took a few more liberties with the horror archetype than other films were comfortable with. A risky move that made the film a legend, but could have easily turned it into a disaster: not revealing the killer. The entire film built up to the central mystery which pointed it's finger in an extremely routine manner from the edgy supporting character to the suspicious appearance of two speaking extras, to the trust-figures themselves. But what Black Christmas does to avoid making it a run-of-the-mill mystery is that it's suspicions act as a mere red herring, a distraction to make you think your fear will be resolved and you can return to your life in comfort. The film is unforgiving throughout, but here it shows how cruel it can be. The film ends without a proper conclusion and the audience is left to return to their lives still subconciously concerned that the horrifyingly twisted psycho is still lurking in the shadows and they don't even have a face to place upon him.
Here is where my theory gets wild. Where the weak should turn back and leave, if you are brave (or crazy) enough to listen further, try to think with an open mind.
Our killer is nameless, faceless, and really voiceless. His phone calls reveal numerous voices and apparent identities, and our only glimpse of the killer is in shadows with a highlighted eyeball allowing our minds enough information to process that the killer is human. In this sense, on at least a symbolic level, we can conclude that the killer isn't a deranged lunatic character any more than he is us, the audience. In many ways, this theory relates to the Funny Games school of thought. The audience is aware they are going into a horror film, there is no mistaking it. They are paying their money in an expectation that the main characters get systematically killed off. Ironically, our bloodlust and desire to see these characters get killed is what kills them. Our thirst for blood is the killers thirst for blood, so in a sense, we are the killer. The murders occur in first person, our killer speaks in jibberish that the characters can not understand, we exist in a realm that they can not touch. The police are helpless to stop him and the girls can't seem to identify where he is. He even is aware of Jessica's personal issues, something that one would expect only Peter and the audience to know. Even when the phone trace results emerge, the killer exists within the house. We are now supposed to believe that his screaming over the phone can not be heard from downstairs and that he somehow called from within the same home. The audience exists beyond the fourth wall in the house, which is why no one is able to track, find, or stop the killer before or after his whereabouts are known.
At the very least it's an interesting concept, a play between the audience and film on a level that's not quite interactive but toys with the idea. On a symbolic level it works and reinforces the idea that this is a pioneering effort. But even if you disapprove of these extreme readings, there is little to deny in the influence, and on a more simple level, the sheer horror of Black Christmas. It's surprisingly layered, and can be viewed as a stepping stone for an entire genre, or just as a really, really scary slasher.