Don't Open Till Christmas (1984)

One of my all time favorites.

Although it has its amusing moments, in eneral the plot does not convince.

This film is so real. It treats its characters with so much care and sensitivity.

All of these films share one commonality, that being a kind of emotional center that humanizes a cast of monsters.

A film I acquired in the 50-pack Drive-in collection. The movie is not remotely interesting, not "horrific", not anything but a waste of time and film. It's nothing more than a crappy excuse to put boobs on film in what is supposedly a "scary Christmas" type of horror film. Basically it's a real yawn and eye-roller.A guy goes around killing Santa Clauses while girls flash their boobs on film. This might appeal to some but the film does not appeal to me.Like all films, you will have to watch the film for yourself to know if you will like it or not. I will not recommend this film to anyone - I recommend to find a better "scary Christmas" flick than this drab, flat trash.1/10

A vicious psycho brutally bumps off various unlucky guys dressed up as Santa Claus around Christmastime. It's up to the dour Inspector Ian Harris (a very sour and indifferent Edmund Purdom, who also fumbled the direction) to catch the maniac. While this movie totally fails to provide any true chills or tension, it certainly succeeds in delivering a steady succession of grisly and ghastly murder set pieces that are randomly injected throughout the narrative with an appealingly appalling lack of finesse and cohesion: one poor tubby dude gets castrated while using a public lavatory, another has a spear shot into the back of his head, a third's face is fried on a grill, and so on. Moreover, Purdom does manage to effectively create and sustain a thoroughly nasty and seedy tone, there's a hefty corpse tally of 14, the foul script blithely breaks the usual established slice'n'dice rules (for example, the final girl is a cheery harlot instead of the customary virginal innocent), and the St. Nick victims are mostly despicable jerks (one Kris Kringle is offed while visiting a sex shop on his lunch break!). The cast do their best with the tawdry material: Alan Lake as creepy low-rent tabloid newspaper reporter Giles, the fetching Belinda Mayne as the distraught Kate Briosky, Gerry Sundquist as Kate's insensitive boyfriend Cliff Boyd, Kelly Baker as bubbly peepshow booth worker Sherry Graham, and Mark Jones as Harris' partner Sergeant Powell. Caroline Munro makes a cameo appearance as herself singing a cruddy disco song in a nightclub. As a tasty added plus, buxom blonde Pat Astley bares her fine shapely body several times as brash nude model Sharon. Alan Pudney's cinematography makes neat occasional use of a prowling hand-held camera. Des Dolan's quivery synthesizer score does the generic ooga-booga hum'n'shiver trick. Worth a watch for fans of sleazy holiday horror fare.

Coincidentally, I was going to review this UK-based, Christmas-themed Slasher as part of my final review anyway but since the holidays are right around the corner, it couldn't have come at a better time. Perhaps you've heard mention of '84's Silent Night, Deadly Night and 1980's Christmas Evil (aka You Better Watch Out). Both can be considered films within the sub-genre as well, especially the former, but they aren't what I consider obscure…at least not to the standards of this particular review series. In terms of top-tiered material, Black Christmas is still the reigning champ; the original from 1974 of course, although the remake was done remarkably well.The film opens with scenes depicting a costume party several days before Christmas. Kate's father, dressed as Santa Claus, makes his appearance on stage and is quickly assassinated by someone from the crowd. The police are quick to investigate; particularly Inspector Ian Harris (Edmund Purdom, also the director). The blame is gradually shifted upon Kate's boyfriend Cliff. Any male participant found representing good ol' St. Nick is taken out in brutal fashion. Is Christmas doomed?I found it difficult to reasonably describe the film's premise on account of how humorous and well…stupid, it is. During the opening segments, while the credits appeared on screen, I had a glimmer of hope – could THIS be the Christmas-themed horror movie of the past so aggressively sought after by enthusiasts? After the high of my inner pep-talk wore off I was faced with the grim reality of a mess-ridden film. It's been documented that the finished product was the result of a few directorial changes in the crew's lineup. Hideous cut-jobs are littered throughout and it'd be a chore to find a lengthy segment that does not have this issue. Probably the most prominent example of such shortcomings pertains to the death sequences – you may as well forget any use of subtlety and smooth transitional work. The killings begin and end so abruptly; they merely drop them on you like a giant anvil. Not to mention that they occur so rapidly and involve characters that share no screen time prior to their demise. Obviously the highlight in a moment like this is the gore factor but even that is severely lacking.I may as well spell things out for you as to familiarize yourself with the players involved in Don't Open Till Christmas…E-M-B-A-R-R-A-S-I-N-G. Outside of Edmund Purdom (who's been in a few horror movies, and his acting merits far outweigh his brief directorial work), the inflections used, or rather, not used, result in a very underwhelming performance. They manage to be so unconvincing in their deliveries that, collectively, they'd fail miserably at selling bottles of oxygen in a space vacuum. In your typical Hey-What's-Going-On-Here? one can always expect a few distractions; characters thrown into the mix that make the audience think twice of who the killer is. In this case, a reporter is introduced, unfurling a red flag to allow the guessing games to begin among the audience. I wouldn't worry about twists, tricks, or cerebral traps because the red herring in this film is so fat you may just want to throw it in the oven.At the height of the film's conclusion, the motive of the killer is finally revealed, in what turns out to be the DUMBEST of reasons to go on a murderous spree. I'm not even sure it makes logical sense. It's zany and unintentionally hilarious which probably stands as the most insulting thing you could do as a film producer. Don't Open Till Christmas is one cookie that you shouldn't leave out for Santa; when it's all said and done, I'm sure you'll agree that not only does it have nothing to do with the title, but English accents can't hide poor quality. A native of Britain would probably conclude this review by saying this – "It's rubbish!"

If seasonal slashers such as Black Christmas, Christmas Evil, and Silent Night Deadly Night are to be believed, Christmas isn't really the season for 'peace on Earth and good will to all men'—it's the time of year you're most likely to end up hacked into cubes by a maniac with an axe.Usually, a cinematic Yuletide killer is fairly easy to spot (hint: he's the one in a scruffy, blood-soaked Santa suit, clutching an axe), but UK horror Don't Open 'Til Christmas bucks this trend: in this film, it's those that are dressed as good old St. Nick that wind up dead, victims of an escaped loony with an extreme hatred of jolly old men with big white beards!A sleazy, low-budget slasher from exploitation producer Dick Randall and sexploitation scribe Derek Ford, 'Don't Open...' stars Edmund Purdom as a New Scotland Yard Inspector hunting for a serial killer who has left a trail of dead 'Santas' all over London (including a 'roast' Santa, 'shish-kebab' Santa, 'machete-in-the-face' Santa, and 'bloody-stump-where-his penis-used-to-be' Santa). Given its exploitation pedigree, this tawdry tale should be a terrific slice of thoroughly tasteless entertainment, but thanks to some of the worst acting, weak direction, and cheap gore effects in slasher movie history, the film only succeeds in being extremely tedious.'Don't Open...' never really finds its feet, faltering during the opening scene, in which a couple canoodling in the back seat of a car are unconvincingly stabbed (with a retractable knife presumably purchased from the local joke shop). The film then stumbles chaotically from one dreadful moment to another, subjecting viewers to lots of unconvincing gore FX, a pointless tour of a wax museum, an even more pointless cameo from beautiful British scream queen Caroline Munro, and some hilariously bad dialogue ("they'll think we're a couple of gays"; "it'll make your nip-nips stick out"), until an unintentionally funny 'explosive' finale ends the film rather abruptly.On a positive note, there is some welcome gratuitous nudity from softcore star Pat Astley and a surprisingly repugnant scene where the killer torments an abducted peep-show stripper, but it just isn't enough to prevent this from being a dud.