Don't Open Till Christmas

I knew from previous reviews that "Don't Open Till Christmas" would be bad, but I didn't realise just HOW bad! But perhaps that's just as well. The 'story' is so sleazy and mean-spirited that the film would be deeply nasty if it were well-made. As it is, it is just laughable.

Even on the most basic levels, "Don't Open Till Christmas" fails to work. The various murders, though gory, are suspenseless. We know nothing of the victims, we know when the killer's about to strike (so there is no surprise) and the direction is hamfisted. The giallo elements fall flat because neither we nor the police are given any clues and indeed the police investigation never really comes to a conclusion.

Parts of the film simply don't make any sense. The timeframe is all to hell, for one thing. Early on, a newspaper headline reads "Only three killing days left to Christmas", but then four or five days pass and we're only at Christmas Eve! Lines like "Is there a pattern here?", after 3 Santas have been gorily dispatched, beggar belief. It also seems unlikely that people would still be happily wandering around London in Santa costumes if a psychopathic Claus-slayer WERE on the loose!

The direction is inept, the dialogue ludicrous and the acting desperately flat. And why does Mark Jones, as one of the police investigators, dress like a Twenties matinee idol? Perhaps his flamboyant costumes are an effort by the makers to disguise attention from the threadbare sets!

Nevertheless, "Don't Open Till Christmas" does have a certain historical interest as the very last gasp of the low-budget British horror film. The involvement of Derek Ford gives it a tenuous link to the gory glory days of Compton and Tigon. And it's amazing to think that it was made in 1984, the time when Goldcrest were at their height. What a contrast between such genteel efforts as "Chariots of Fire" and "The Dresser" and this sadistic little affair!

Now this is what I'm talking about! I love an unabashedly terrible slasher film that revels in its own sleaziness and stupidity. From the crappy synth score to the iffy performances, I was eating Don't Open 'Til Christmas up by the shovelful. I'm not even going to begin explaining the plot -- why should the plot even matter when drunk shopping mall Santa Clauses are getting their faces burned off, eyes slashed out, and penises castrated (YES!) all around you?!

I'd never recommend this to anyone who isn't into true bottom-of-the-barrel stuff like myself, but sludge lovers will want their grimy stockings stuffed with this filthy British exploit. Let me put it this way: if you liked Pieces, you'll also dig this film (which kind of makes sense, since some of the people from Pieces worked on this). Sure, Don't Open 'Til Christmas lacks the acting chops of the Georges (that's Christopher and Lynda Day to you), but it's slightly more enjoyable in the sense that it isn't quite as misogynistic as Pieces (i.e., most of the victims in this one are male). Skeezemeister Edmund Purdom (I find him inexplicably unsettling in a creepy uncle sort of way), who was one of the headliners in Pieces, claims this gem as his one and only directing credit.

One of the most troubled and delayed productions in horror cinema history is about a killer on the loose in London killing anybody wearing a Santa Claus suit.

One of the most cruel and mean spirited films ever made with a lousy ending and no payoff what-so-ever for sitting threw 90mins. of explicit murders with no plot, lousy direction (rumor has it three directors worked on this) & awful acting (watch for a silly cameo by Caroline Munro). Also film suffers from not knowing what it wants to be, a seedy sex thriller, a detective movie, or a drive in thriller. Rated R; Extreme Graphic Violence, Nudity, Sexual Situations, and Profanity.

"Another Santa is slain," is the quote one person says early in this movie and that about sums it up for the outline. Set in London, England during the Christmas holiday season, someone killer is going around killing anyone dressed as Father Christmas, while two astonishingly stupid Scotland Yard detectives track him down and dither. Most of the abundant splatter is nothing new here as we see one Santa after another get either shot, stabbed, speared, burned, cleaverd, electriuted and even castrasted. Gore and splatter fans will not be disappointed. But here the victims are not the sympathetic bunch as every Santa victim is either a derelict, drunkard, drug user, or loser we most wish the killer would get. Edumond Purdom who directs and stars as the lead detective, Inspector Harris, who's in charge of investigating the murders, serves up some potential suspense and a fair amount of black humor, but the script plays it very straight.

As for the rest of the plot, although we know that Inspector Harris is not the killer, he appears to know a lot more of what's going on with the killings than the other characters, one of whom is a woman who wants the killer brought to justice since her own father was one of the many victims. The rest of the movie is not as amusing as it sounds, but one can't completely dismiss a horror film like this that piles up more victims than a room full of attorneys. Pop star Caroline Munro even makes a musical cameo appearance as herself during one of the stalking/killings which adds a fairly nice touch to such nonsense.

Contents: 14 killings; lots of messy looking corpses; a masked psycho; costumed victims; slight suspense; mediocre mystery; not bad as usual. With Pat Astley as the model who keeps removing her top.

It's refreshing to know that Americans aren't the only ones who can turn out crappy slasher movies. The same British team that did this one also made one of the more idiotic American slasher movies of the 1980's ("Slaughter High"), but here they abandon the stateside setting and the faux American accents to embrace their inherent Britishness while still making a movie that is every bit as inept and pathetic as their "American" effort.

In the seedier parts of London a mad killer is slashing men dressed as Santa Clause. Why? Believe me, you don't want to know, but never has there been a greater collection of drunken, lecherous reprobates than the Santa victims in this movie (Don't they screen their prospective Santa Claus candidates in London?). Between the drunks, potential child molesters, and garden-variety creeps, there isn't a unworthy victim among them. And if there is a mad Santa killer on the loose, why do they all insist on going everywhere dressed in their Santa duds? One sap even wears his costume into a peep show where (in a scene that, I think, is meant to be funny) he tells the stripper that he's not "the real one." Then there is nude fashion model who takes a guy out in the alley for a quickie dressed only in a Santa coat, and of course, meets the killer who luridly runs his knife down her nude body. (I'd complain about the gratuitous misogyny here, but it's one of the best scenes in the movie). On the gore side, we have an grossly overweight pervert Santa who is castrated in a urinal (a metaphor for the movie as a whole perhaps?)

Aside from the aforementioned gore and crumpet, this movie is mostly just boring. I'd term it as a London-based X-mas version of "The New York Ripper", but it's much more dull than tasteless. The only good thing I can say about it is I don't regret having watched it (mostly because it came as part of a dirt cheap 50-movie DVD compilation I recently bought). Don't go too far out of your way for this one though.