Instead of being a gory slasher like the dour Silent Night, Deadly Night—which this less widely released film didn’t cause nearly the uproar of—Christmas Evil opts for a more slow-paced, less self-pitying, less graphic, more character-driven piece about a Travis Bickle-like disturbed loner fixated on Santa Claus. For how creepy, downright bizarre and darkly comic this Christmas horror is at points, I can see why John Waters is such a fan. It’s strange and sleazy enough to be entertaining, but deliberate and smart enough to be much more interesting than most slashers of the period. Brandon Maggart—Fiona Apple’s dad!—is delightfully creepy as the toy maker-turned-killer Santa Claus, with quite the childhood backstory. I wouldn’t consider this a slasher at all, since it trades in the shock value and high body count of more well-known holiday horrors for suspense and a lean towards the absurdity of the killer Santa and some pointed blue-collar satire of holiday corporatism, while having a deeper sadness at its core. If this came out now, I could see Zach Cregger directing it, complete with the useless cops and authorities. The film is quite nicely shot with an always-gorgeous late 70s-early 80s soft winter glow, with an eerie electronic score to boot. This was also shot in my home state of New Jersey! Where it doesn’t work is in its finale—while bizarre enough to be memorable, it gets so bonkers and outright goofy that it works at odds with the more serious but darkly comic tone of the rest of the story.
Instead of being a gory slasher like the dour Silent Night, Deadly Night—which this less widely released film didn’t cause nearly the uproar of—Christmas Evil opts for a more slow-paced, less self-pitying, less graphic, more character-driven piece about a Travis Bickle-like disturbed loner fixated on Santa Claus. For how creepy, downright bizarre and darkly comic this Christmas horror is at points, I can see why John Waters is such a fan. It’s strange and sleazy enough to be entertaining, but deliberate and smart enough to be much more interesting than most slashers of the period. Brandon Maggart—Fiona Apple’s dad!—is delightfully creepy as the toy maker-turned-killer Santa Claus, with quite the childhood backstory. I wouldn’t consider this a slasher at all, since it trades in the shock value and high body count of more well-known holiday horrors for suspense and a lean towards the absurdity of the killer Santa and some pointed blue-collar satire of holiday corporatism, while having a deeper sadness at its core. If this came out now, I could see Zach Cregger directing it, complete with the useless cops and authorities. The film is quite nicely shot with an always-gorgeous late 70s-early 80s soft winter glow, with an eerie electronic score to boot. This was also shot in my home state of New Jersey! Where it doesn’t work is in its finale—while bizarre enough to be memorable, it gets so bonkers and outright goofy that it works at odds with the more serious but darkly comic tone of the rest of the story.
