BLACK CHRISTMAS

Perhaps the first 'Slasher' film, Black Christmas holds an honored place in the pantheon of the Body Count genre. More importantly it retains its powers decades after its production to inspire suspense -- not simply a superior thriller but a testament to sound, dramatic storytelling in general. A suspected influence on John Carpenter for his celebrated Halloween (which itself led to such pictures as Friday the 13, The Prowler, and The Burning during what became a genre glut), Clark's seminal descent into suspense set the blue-print in both content and style. All of the sub-genre's classifying aesthetic components are present in this moody package: a mysterious killer with questionable/mysterious motivation, the 'final girl' (whose importance has been over stated in the genre), creative killings, a special day/event to mark the occasion, killer POV shots, mouthy (and horny!) teenagers, and an excess of style. One thing the film doesn't have is the idiocy of characterization and overstrained coincidences that would diminish the art and credibility of several of the films that followed suite, trading authenticity/originality for cliché. Black Christmas is as intelligent as it is disturbing, as big on brains as exploitative thrills. Just in time for the holidays (and for the remake!) Koch Entertainment brings this emotionally intensive, terrifying granddaddy of psychological horror and titillation to DVD in a special addition.

Using the resonance of a traditionally jolly, warm holiday to both support and lend further suspense/tension to its unique if simplistic premise, Black Christmas clearly announces its intentions to terrify. That it employs both direct assaults and implication to arouse horror is to its credit. Its taboo-breaking use of the Yule season to support its scares (unique for the time) is evident from the beginning (as is its restrained, emotionally distanced POV) from the very first frame, opening on a shot of a Sorority house (yup, yet another staple credited to this film) during the late evening as a funeral air of "Silent Night" plays in the winter background. Soon, in a tracking scene that will immediately bring to mind a similar John Carpenter shot, we follow an enigmatic presence around the house, searching for a way in as college kids pack, party and prepare to leave for the coming holiday. Our mysterious prowler lets himself in by an attic window. Amidst character exposition and the establishment of a brisk mood, a reoccurring obscene phone call introduces us to the enigmatic Billy, who has been harassing the girls for some time with screams, grunts, and sexual threats. This is about all we ever really will know about the psychopath, as not his identity but the tension evoked by his stalk-n-slash tactics become the focal point of the film. Fear is evoked throughout as Billy stalks the few remaining girls in the sorority house. As these increasingly vicious murders increase, the cops prove ineffective, and somberly realistic relationships dissolve alongside choked and garroted bodies, allowing the cold brutality and misery of the murders to find emotional reflection in the crumbling despair of romantic relationships. This carefully paced nightmare of ambiguity and mounting unease pushes us, like its characters, to a horrible, decidedly down-beat if aesthetically sound ending.

Black Christmas still shocks. More importantly, its characters and themes are still pertinent and believable. An inventive screenplay, honest direction, and organic performances encourage us to sympathize with these characters. As a result we soon share their terror and pain when the more sensationalistic elements of the film take over, and they (or their loved ones) are emotionally tormented and murdered. Clark's storytelling prowess places us within the fictional confines of his world -- not only an authentic physical setting but the mood of an entire era of American life. The season, the small town atmosphere, the prejudices: all are conveyed through characters, dialogue, and, most importantly, through the nuance of atmosphere. Mood is just as crucial an element to the film's success as Billy's mysterious identity. Clark's attention to detail and emotional verve isn't lavished only on characters but the interior designs as well. Lighting and carefully placed darkness inspires dread even as it contrasts beautifully with the intense brightness of the Yule decorations. A mood of helplessness is further complimented and reinforced by the unexplained maliciousness of the story.

Billy's purposes are never suggested. Why is he doing this? What happened to him to make him this way? Who is he? By keeping both his identity and motivation in the dark he resembles a force of nature, rather like Carpenter's Michael Meyers would become later. The result? His 'presence' becomes almost more than human. Ultimately, he is as unknowable as a storm or death itself. Similar to the later celebrated mass murderers of the Slasher boom, Billy is known more by his stalking activities/POV than as a distinct personality. Whereas such late icons as Jason Voorhees hid behind a mask to suggest their lack of human emotion, Clark simply refuses to show his all-too-human monster. In a life where the tragedies, crimes, and horrific violence that attack our lives often deny us logical rationale or explanation, so too does Clark deny us safety nets of explanation or justice.

Showing psychological shrewdness, Clark's dissection of human depravity ends on a hopeless, sour note whose nihilism was years ahead of its time. It's also interesting to note that the major means by which the killer operates is the phone, perhaps further suggesting the enigmatic quality of not only his identity but personality. In Black Christmas, less is more when referring to graphic carnage. The psychotic ramblings, panting, and curses of Billy on the phone raise chills more effectively than gallons of stage blood. A film superior to practically any of the Slashers that came after, Black Christmas achieves its emotional effects through enigmatic plotting, subjective compositions, and a spirit of viciousness nearly impossible to duplicate.

Koch treats Black Christmas as it should be -- with technological respect and a sense of emotional reverence. The image is preserved and cleaned to a surprising extant, making the film look better than it ever has. At the same time, the restoration takes anything away from the morose, 'dirty' atmosphere of lighting and shadow so important to the movie. Surpassing previous releases, this granddaddy of psychological horror has a minimum of grain. For the most part, the picture is wonderful, lacking the splotching or distortions expected of such a low budget picture. Black levels are solid, compositions full, and skin tones correct. Colors are bold and vibrant, but not so very polished that they detract from realism. Audio is just as professional, presented in English Mono and 5.1, and a French option. While the later is a bit muffled, both English tracks are crystalline, equally distributing dialogue and score.

Extras for Black Christmas are both thoughtful and emotionally engaging. Covering several intimate details of the filming process, Dan Duffin (the writer/director) also manages to evoke for the film a cultural and aesthetic subtext. These supplements examine the film as both a product and process, making us more familiar with the people behind our favorite nightmare. Perhaps the most intriguing, informative extra is the "12 Days of Black Christmas," by far the most incisive look at the film and personalities yet conceived. Clearly a work of love and knowledge, this rich assemblage of interviews, behind-the-scenes peeks, and film footage is a celebration not only of the film but the imaginations that converged to craft it. John Saxon narrates as we are taken through the conception, planning, production, and completion of the film, as well as its influence, reception, and emotional achievements. Along the way such elements as culture, the business of film, and both the emotional and technical challenges/ pleasures of filmmaking are touched, as well as several personal reflections b cast and crew. Interviews include candid discussions with Bob Clark, Olivia Hussey, Art Hindle, Lynn Griffin, Saxon, Doug McGrath and several others, all of which have something different -- and often surprising -- to say about their experience. Some of the special topics of discussion include segments pertaining to the house where the action was filmed, the audition process, and the score (not to mention an entertaining little squabble on how to properly pronounce 'fellatio.' Next up are "Uncovered Sound Scenes," in which two pieces of footage are displayed with slightly different audio specifics. In the first, "Trellis Climb," one can hear the discussion from the house. In the second scene, Billy's voice is clearly heard in final pan away. While not as intriguing as the documentary, these little gifts to devotees of the movie are sure to be appreciated. The "Midnight Q & A Session" discusses such controversial issues as John Carpenter's debt to Clark's story with clarity and humor, and is simply fascinating stuff! Whether speaking about the three voices it took to do Billy's dialogue or the quality of cinematography, this segment picks up where the documentary left off. Stand alone interviews with Hussey, Kidder, and Hindle conclude this impassioned and definitive release of one of the genre's most influential psychological horror films.

Review by William P. Simmons