“This moody depiction of the Christmas slayings… is as murky as the script, which dotes largely on obscenities that are no more pointed than the violence, dull direction and pedestrian performances.” — A.H. Weiler, New York Times, October 20, 1975, page 45.
Released in the U.S. on December 20, 1974, just in time for the holiday season, Black Christmas 1974 creates an authentically unsettling atmosphere. It features one of the earliest and most compelling portrayals of the Final Girl archetype.
While Black Christmas 1974 was initially embraced in its country of origin, Canada, it did not fare as well in the United States. Its transformation into a cult classic is attributed mainly to home video releases and revival screenings. For its American debut, the film was retitled Silent Night, Evil Night.
Black Christmas features an interesting cast, including Olivia Hussey, Keir Dullea, Margot Kidder, Andrea Martin, Lynne Griffin, and John Saxon. The film draws inspiration from the well-known urban legend “The Babysitter and the Man Upstairs” and a series of real-life murders that occurred in Montreal, Quebec. Filmed in Toronto, Canada, in 1974, it was produced on a modest budget of $686,000, comparable to Halloween’s $325,000.
Despite the financial constraints, Bob Clark artfully managed to use the limited resources to create a memorable, deeply disturbing narrative of isolation and terror set against the backdrop of what should be the most joyous time of the year!
Black Christmas 1974 is a groundbreaking horror film that laid the foundation for the slasher genre. It is often credited as the proto-slasher, predating and provoking an abundance of conversations about its influence on later classics like Halloween 1978.
Set during the festive season, the movie follows a group of sorority sisters who become targets of a mysterious and deranged intruder who terrorizes them as they prepare to leave for winter break.
The sorority house begins to receive a series of disturbing, vulgar phone calls that use sexually explicit language to threaten the girls. After one of the sisters goes missing, and the police finally agree to investigate, each of the women is brutally murdered.
Black Christmas originated as a screenplay called The Babysitter, penned by A. Roy Moore. The script underwent a transformation when writer Timothy Bond shifted the setting to a sorority house. By the time it reached director Bob Clark, the project was operating under the working title Stop Me, a chilling line shouted by the unhinged caller with bone-chilling anguish. Clark was very intentional about capturing the unsettling contrast between holiday cheer and psychological terror in the movie’s final title.
According to Bob Clark, he collaborated with John Carpenter on an unrealized project, a script for a project called Prey. Carpenter expressed his admiration for Black Christmas and inquired about a potential sequel to the film. Clark revealed he had a simple plot titled Halloween, which would involve the killer first being apprehended and then escaping from a psychiatric facility.
Bob Clark – “ I never intended to do a sequel [to Black Christmas]. I did a film about three years later…started a film with John Carpenter. It was his first film for Warner Bros. He asked me if I was ever going to do a sequel, and I said no. I was through with horror; I didn’t come into the business to do just horror. He {Carpenter} said, ‘Well, what would you do if you did a sequel?’ I said it would be the next year, and the guy would have been caught, escaped from a mental institution, go back to the house, and they would start all over again. And I would call it Halloween… He deserves the full, expansive credit he’s gotten for doing that movie,”
… The truth is John didn’t copy Black Christmas. He wrote a script, directed the script, and did the casting. Halloween is his horror movie and besides, the script came to him already titled anyway. He liked Black Christmas and may have been influenced by it, but in no way did John Carpenter copy the idea. Fifteen other people at that time had thought to do a movie called Halloween, but the script came to John with that title on it. A few words about an idea are hardly a screenplay and a finished movie…”
Read Robert V. Galluzzo’s fantastic interview with Bob Clark Here:
Despite being met with mixed reviews, Black Christmas has since achieved cult status, triggering two remakes. The 2019 version, directed by Sophia Takal, diverges from the original by explicitly confronting toxic masculinity and male aggression head-on and how the female heroines actually confront the threats, offering a distinctly overt feminist perspective on the slasher genre.
Black Christmas 1974 opens with an unsettling point-of-view shot of an unknown intruder entering the sorority house and climbing into the attic. Clark strategically unveils the psycho stalker’s presence before the unsuspecting characters are aware of him. This allows us the privileged insight into his presence creates sublime tension and sets up a feeling of dread from the beginning. We now hold the uncomfortable, heavy burden of awareness and understand the unspoken menace and the inevitable descent into darkness and violence to come.
BILLY UNSEEN:
Black Christmas introduced several elements that would become staples of the slasher genre: the use of point-of-view shots from the killer’s perspective, The killer’s POV shots, and even the obscene phone calls exemplify Laura Mulvey’s theory of the male gaze, positioning women as objects of voyeuristic pleasure.
Before John Carpenter played with the POV of young Michael Meyers wearing a clown mask as he stabs his horny sister to death in Halloween (1978), Bob Clark took his own minimalist approach in revealing the killer in Black Christmas four years earlier. The film offers only fleeting glimpses of the intruder, including a shadowy silhouette and a chilling shot of his eye peering through a door crack at his intended victim.
The film is also imbued with psychological terror. We only know the killer as “Billy,” who is primarily unseen, represented by a single eye or hand. This partial glimpse or representation evokes Lacan’s concept of the fragmented body, suggesting a fractured psyche.
In Black Christmas, the killer’s presence is effectively conveyed through shots of his hands and unsettling voice, which at times mimics multiple personalities during phone calls. Unlike Michael Myers in Halloween, who becomes more visible as the film progresses, Billy remains virtually obscured yet quite impactful. He refers to himself as “Billy” and makes cryptic mentions of “Agnes,” yet another way to obfuscate his identity.
Billy: Filthy Billy, I know what you did, nasty Billy!
Billy: Please don’t, you tell what we did, Agnes!
Billy: [quietly singing] Little baby bunting / Daddy’s gone a-hunting / Gone to fetch a rabbit skin / To wrap his baby Agnes in…
The killer, ‘Billy,’ remaining largely unseen, heightens the tension and fear. The audience knows he is inside the house, but his exact location is often unknown. This creates a pervasive sense of danger as the characters unknowingly share their space with a predator—and our imagination is allowed to run wild, creating a more frightening experience than if the killer were to be revealed. The concept of an unseen, mysterious killer with unclear motives, its ambiguous ending, and the decision to never fully reveal the killer’s identity or motives align with the film’s innovative way of presenting him within the story using POV shots. The film maintains its sense of dread and hopelessness by never fully explaining the killer or his motives. His point-of-view shots are also accompanied by heavy breathing, which became an influential technique in later slasher films. The lack of revelation adds to the film’s bleak and nihilistic tone.
When the sorority sisters begin receiving disturbing phone calls from an anonymous source, it sets a tone of unease and impending danger. The telephone plays a dramatic role in Black Christmas, exploiting the fear of the anonymous threatening phone caller, which predates what we would experience in a later horror film also infused with serious shudders, When a Stranger Calls 1979, based on an urban legend about a killer stalking the teenage babysitter.
As the plot unfolds, the killer, referred to as “Billy,” begins to stalk and murder the sorority sisters one by one. The film’s tension builds gradually, with Clark masterfully blending the cheerful Christmas setting with the growing sense of horror—one that emanates from within the house—yet another aspect of When a Stranger Calls.
A key element of the slasher genre present in Black Christmas is the “Final Girl” trope embodied by Olivia Hussey’s character, Jess. Being pregnant and therefore not fitting the traditional virgin mold, Jess presents a compelling choice as a heroine, contrasting sharply with the more codified “Final Girl” that would arise in the 1980s.
Slay Bells: Horror Meets Holiday Cheer:
Lastly, there is the juxtaposition of horror with a traditionally joyful setting during any particular holiday. The film’s visual color palette ingeniously merges lethal shadows and macabre deaths with the festive glow of holiday lights, creating a dissonant blend of terror and tradition.
There’s nothing more cozy than the blending of festivity and terror: I think of Joan Collins’ chilling performance in the blood-soaked “…And All Through the House” segment of Tales from the Crypt (1972), where she plays a murderous wife terrorized by a psychotic Santa, or the 1980 holiday slasher, Christmas Evil, a particularly dark horror comedy featuring Brandon Maggart as a deranged Santa-obsessed killer.
Joan Collins in Tales From the Crypt 1972 segment … And All Through the House.
Christmas Evil, aka You Better Watch Out 1980.
In these types of horrors – the satirization of Santa Claus and the commercialization of Christmas explore themes of mental illness and societal expectations. Critics have described it as an unconventional slasher that leans into its comedic aspects despite its disturbing premise. Whether intended or not, to me, Christmas Evil is a sublime dark comedic horror-wrapped gift, blending psychological drama with festive carnage.
In Black Christmas, a soft snowfall on a chilly winter night, characters cheerfully celebrate amidst large trees decorated with multicolored lights; Clark creates a macabre interweaving of the violent murders – and a choir of Christmas carolers – innocence and darkness- the jubilant holiday atmosphere, toys with the underlying menace. Black Christmas contrasts the cheerful holiday atmosphere with the dark, sinister events unfolding.
As the sorority house slowly empties, its colorful Christmas trimmings are now cast in a melancholic stillness.
Christmas decorations and carols serve as an eerie backdrop to the gruesome murders, creating an unsettling dissonance. The pre-holiday rush and confusion contribute to the initial overlooking of the first victims’ disappearances, adding to the horror as the murders inside the house go unnoticed.
In terms of the sub-genre of holiday horrors, after Halloween, for instance, the floodgates of “stalker” films opened with everything from Friday the 13th (1980) to Mother’s Day (1980), to My Bloody Valentine (1981), to April Fool’s Day (1986).
Both Black Christmas and Halloween make great use of their respective holidays – by pulling from the rituals, rites, and ceremonies and their iconography associated with the festive season. It only helps directors like Clark and Carpenter craft a uniquely unsettling atmosphere, leveraging the stark contrast between the expected winter joys of Christmas and the revelry of being playfully scared during the chilly Fall nights of Halloween. It’s a great way to introduce terror. It’s also an ingenious way to incorporate holiday motifs to amplify the sense of unease, as these films subvert the sanctity of celebratory customs that are violated by the intrusion of menacing or malevolent forces.
In Halloween, October 31st transcends itself as a mere day on the calendar, emerging as a haunting antagonist in its own right. The holiday itself seems to conspire with the killer. The fictional town of Haddonfield, Illinois, becomes a living, breathing canvas where the holiday’s eerieness takes (the) ‘shape’… literally. (Though Carpenter only had a garbage bag filled with leaves to create the illusion of a midwest autumn rather than sunny California weather!) The daytime scenes capture a dismal peace, not a muted Fall serenity, while nightfall turns into a shadowy hunting ground for Michael Myers’ methodical killing spree.
In Black Christmas, in one of the most savage sequences, a sorority sister (Margot Kidder) is stabbed to death with a glass unicorn while one of the other girls (Olivia Hussey) is listening to a group of carolers singing ‘O Come, All Ye Faithful’ their cherubic faces poised in angelic rapture outside the house. The scene sways back and forth between the angelic melodies and the brutality of the attack. It’s an effectively terrifying set piece.
The sorority house, which can be seen as the ‘uncanny home’ typically a symbol of safety, becomes a site of terror. This transformation embodies Freud’s concept of the uncanny, where the familiar becomes strange and threatening.
As the college shuts down for winter break, the sorority house becomes increasingly isolated. This gradual emptying of the house, despite its festive decorations, creates a somber and vulnerable atmosphere for the remaining female characters. The wintery Toronto location adds to the chilling ambiance, with the cold, dark setting amplifying the sense of dread.
Bob Clark’s Contrasting Holidays: Dual Legacy of Joy and Terror:
Bob Clark’s critical reception was mixed throughout his career. He won three Genie Awards for directing and writing, as well as the Reelworld Award for Best Canadian Film for Now & Forever in 2003.
Clark is not a stranger to the horror genre. He has contributed to some of the best indie gems, including Deathdream 1974 and Children Shouldn’t Play with Dead Things 1972.
Bob Clark was heavily involved in the production of Children Shouldn’t Play with Dead Things (1972) as both director and producer. It was his second feature film and his first foray into the horror genre, co-writing the screenplay with Alan Ormsby. He worked with a very low budget of $50,000 and completed the shoot in just 14 days. Employing some of his college friends as part of the cast and crew and collaborated closely with lead actor Alan Ormsby, who also did the zombie makeup effects. Children is a film I’d like to dive into coming up. It’s a personal favorite of mine.
Bob Clark directed and produced Deathdream (also known as Dead of Night) in 1974. The film was shot in Brooksville, Florida, during the fall of 1972 under the working title The Night Walker.
Clark, who was from Ft. Lauderdale, Florida, generally preferred filming in that state and chose Brooksville for its nondescript small-town America look. Clark’s involvement in the film was hands-on: He once again collaborated closely with screenwriter Alan Ormsby, with whom he had previously worked on Children Shouldn’t Play with Dead Things. He also made a cameo appearance in the film as a police officer examining a body. Deathdream was part of Clark’s early career in horror films, which included three notable entries in the genre between 1972 and 1974.
In 1974, with Deranged (1974), while Clark didn’t direct this film, he served as an uncredited executive producer. The movie was one of the first to fictionalize the life of killer Ed Gein, starring Roberts Blossom.
However, he also received multiple Golden Raspberry and Stinkers Award nominations for “Worst Director.” His most acclaimed work, A Christmas Story, initially received modest success but later became a beloved holiday classic. One that has inspired a collective celebration of fans like me watching A Christmas Story for 24 hours repeatedly as a festive marathon of nostalgia—a ritual that has found its way into my family’s beloved holiday routine.
Peter Billingsley, Bob Clark, and Ian Petrella are on the set of A Christmas Story.
A Christmas Story follows 9-year-old Ralphie Parker (Peter Billingsley) in 1940s Indiana as he desperately wants to get his hands on a Red Ryder BB gun for Christmas, despite repeated warnings from his mother, teacher, and even Santa himself that he’ll ‘shoot his eye out,” he persists in his quest. There isn’t a moment to spare through a series of vignettes that showcase Ralphie’s run-in with bullies, his pal’s antics, his father’s (Darrin McGavin) prize – the warm glow of electric sex – leg lamp (of which we have a reproduction we haul out every Christmas) and a memorable visit to Higbee’s Department Store.
Turning to the darker side of holidays, A Christmas Story bathes in warm nostalgia, its humor illuminating the quirks of family life and childhood desires with the film’s bright palette and lighthearted tone capturing the innocence and joy of the season, with Ralphie’s quest for a BB gun serving as a charming focal point. In contrast, Black Christmas plunges into the shadows of the festive period.
Its gritty, unsettling atmosphere subverts holiday cheer; with its dark visuals and disturbing phone calls, it creates a sense of isolation and vulnerability, turning the comfort of home into a nightmarish trap.
Bob Clark’s direction in Black Christmas is notable for its use of sound design to create tightly coiled tension. It incorporates everyday noises like a dog barking and distant sirens, which help unsettle the audience. For example, carol singers’ voices are mixed with a victim’s screams during a murder scene, creating a disturbing auditory contrast.
The brutal killings are punctuated by organic sounds. A victim’s visceral screams pierce the air—as the brutal orchestrated stabbing by a decorative crystal unicorn is eerily juxtaposed with the heavenly voices of children singing carols.
Outside, an impatient taxi driver’s sharp yells pierce the night. Downstairs, the party’s boisterous energy is so consuming that its revelers remain oblivious to the silent murder of one of their friends, being suffocated, unfolds just above them.
And the killer’s first-person shots are intensified by his labored, unsettling breathing. His guttural sounds, weary gasping, create an eerie dissonance when he makes his disturbing calls to the unsuspecting sorority sisters who don’t realize the threat lies from within.
Clark used different actors to deliver multiple personalities within the killer’s psyche, making the calls sexually explicit, feral, and unhinged. The strident tone of the ringing telephone bell only intensifies the anxiety. The killer’s heavy, labored breathing is prominently featured, especially during POV shots. This primal, animalistic sound enhances the menacing quality of his calls. What sets Black Christmas apart from its successors is that it doesn’t feature a masked killer nor an explanation for his actions.
Clark revealed that the killer’s history, though not explicitly shown in the film, was conceived during production. The enigmatic names “Billy” and “Agnes,” heard during the unsettling phone calls, serve as the sole breadcrumbs of the killer’s past within the narrative. This tantalizing glimpse into the murderer’s background, while intriguing, remains largely unexplored in the original cinematic release. In a 2018 Mental Floss article by Matthew Jackson, Clark said –
“Billy is abusive and abused his little sister, and was abused himself, and probably killed his parents, and probably locked her up in a basement for five or six years,” Clark said. “And I think she escaped, and Billy doesn’t like girls, and it turns out Agnes doesn’t like boys.”
Offering only cryptic fragments that tantalize without fully revealing the murderous psyche, deliberately obscuring the killer’s backstory, the narrative shifts its focus to the women at the story’s heart, empowering their experiences. It hands them the story, making it the central driving force of the film.
The film’s score, composed by Carl Zittrer, employs unique techniques and ambient noises, all blended to create a jarring soundscape. Zittrer not only used the sounds of an untuned piano, but he tied objects to piano strings to distort the sounds and played recorded music at slower speeds to create an unsettling effect—all these elements combined to get under the viewer’s skin.
Actor Nick Mancuso lent his voice to the creepy telephone caller in Black Christmas. During his audition, he faced away from director Bob Clark to ensure that Clark would focus solely on the impact of his voice. To enhance the effect of his performance, Mancuso even recorded his lines while upside down to create a more chilling vocal effect.
Although filmed on location in Toronto, Black Christmas faced a scarcity of real snow, with the little that was available meticulously preserved by art director Karen Bromley, who made an effort to keep people from walking through it. At the same time, foam from a fire truck was used in some scenes to simulate a wintery atmosphere.
Reginald H. Morris’s cinematography, particularly his use of low-key lighting, high contrast, and deep shadows, and the POV shots and glimpses of the killer’s eye contribute significantly to the film’s unsettling atmosphere. This technique limits visibility, making the environment feel oppressive and confining, and we are left to imagine what threat might be lurking in the darkness.
Morris also worked with Bob Clark on Murder by Decree 1979, directed by Bob Clark in 1979. This Sherlock Holmes mystery reimagines the Jack the Ripper murders as part of a high-level conspiracy involving Freemasons and British political elites. The film features an outstanding cast, including Christopher Plummer as Sherlock Holmes, James Mason as Watson, Donald Sutherland, Susan Clark as Mary Kelly, David Hemmings, Frank Finlay as Inspector Lestrade, and Geneviève Bujold as Annie Crook.
Morris’s other credits include The Food of the Gods 1976, Shadow of the Hawk 1976, and Welcome to Blood City, a 1977 science fiction Western film directed by Peter Sasdy that blends elements of dystopian futures and Wild West settings. The film stars Jack Palance, Keir Dullea, Samantha Eggar, and Empire of the Ants.
The P.O.V. stalking shots during critical moments of Black Christmas became popularized by the eye-catching prologue of John Carpenter’s Halloween until young Michael Myers is unmasked.
Cameraman Bert Dunk portrayed the killer in the point-of-view shots of Black Christmas, utilizing a specially designed “body rig” that he developed, which allowed him to mount the camera on his shoulder while keeping his hands free, thus effectively capturing the film’s disturbingly immersive scenes.
The Cast of Black Christmas:
Olivia Hussey (born Olivia Osuna on April 17, 1951) is a British-Argentine actress renowned for her iconic portrayal of Juliet in Franco Zeffirelli’s 1968 film Romeo and Juliet, which earned her a Golden Globe Award. Born in Buenos Aires to an Argentine opera singer and an English mother, she moved to London at the age of seven to pursue her acting dreams, studying at the Italia Conti Academy of Theatre Arts.
This breakthrough role launched Hussey to international fame and earned her a Golden Globe Award for New Star of the Year. She is also known for playing Mary, the mother of Jesus, in Jesus of Nazareth (1977). Hussey reunited with director Franco Zeffirelli for this acclaimed miniseries. She also played Rosalie Otterbourne in Death on the Nile (1978), appearing alongside Bette Davis and Peter Ustinov in this star-studded Agatha Christie adaptation and was cast in the role of Norma Bates in Psycho IV: The Beginning (1990): Hussey portrayed Norman Bates’s mother in this prequel to Hitchcock’s classic horror film Psycho from 1960.
Other Hussey horror credits include:
The Cat and the Canary (1979): Hussey played Cicily Young in this horror-comedy remake of the classic 1927 silent film. Virus (1980): In this sci-fi horror film, she portrayed Marit, adding to her repertoire of genre work. Turkey Shoot (1982): Hussey starred as Chris Walters in this Australian dystopian horror film, which features a mix of action and horror elements. Stephen King’s It (1990): Hussey played Audra Denbrough in this miniseries adaptation of Stephen King’s novel, contributing to her status as a notable figure in horror cinema as a scream queen.
Olivia Hussey’s performance has been praised for its emotional depth, particularly during scenes where Jess is confronted with the reality of her friends’ fates at the hands of the killer. Her portrayal has cemented Jess Bradford as an iconic figure in horror cinema, often regarded as an underrated Final Girl compared to more famous characters like Laurie Strode from Halloween.
Olivia Hussey took the role because it was something she’d never done before – a scary film. And she loved the idea of playing the heroine in a very frightening plot. Plus, Hussey has said – Clark was fantastic to work with. He was meticulous.
Bob Clark initially approached her for the role of Jess in Black Christmas, capitalizing on her fame from her portrayal of Juliet in Romeo and Juliet (1968); Hussey later revealed to producer Gerry Arbeid that a psychic had influenced her decision, predicting she would star in a Canadian film that would achieve significant financial success.
In Black Christmas, the heroine, Jess, confronts the manifestations of patriarchy embodied not only in the killer but also in her controlling boyfriend and the ineffectual male authority figures, such as the police, who fail to protect the women in their care.
Canadian-American actress and activist Margot Kidder was best known for her iconic role as Lois Lane in the Superman films (1978–1987). She began her acting career in the 1960s, gaining recognition for her performances in films like Brian De Palma’s psychological thriller Sisters 1973, which explores themes of identity and female oppression through the story of Danielle and Dominque Siamese twin sisters, both played by Kidder. Danielle is the surviving half of the sisters. After a brutal murder is witnessed by reporter Grace Collier (Jennifer Salt), the narrative unfolds as Grace investigates the mysterious connection between the twin sisters.
Margot Kidder in Brian De Palma’s psychological homage to Alfred Hitchcock – Sisters 1973.
De Palma employed the innovative split-screen and drew on Hitchcockian influences throughout the film to create tension and explore voyeurism and psycho-sexual themes, revealing the darker aspects of the sisters’ bond and the societal constraints faced by women. It is very easy to become wholly drawn to Kidder’s performance as she is both utterly frightening and sympathetic simultaneously. After Black Christmas, Margot Kidder would appear in the supernatural drama about past lives starring Michael Sarrazin and Jennifer O’Neil in J. Lee Thompson’s The Reincarnation of Peter Proud 1975.
Toward the end of the 70s decade of horror films, Kidder would co-star with James Brolin in The Amityville Horror (1979). Directed by Stuart Rosenberg, The Amityville Horror (1979) follows the chilling experiences of George and Kathy Lutz as they confront malevolent supernatural forces in their new home, which is steeped in crime history—the true-life gruesome murders of the DeFeo family in 1974 on Long Island, NY, and the ensuing book and paranormal investigations by mediums and demonologists Lorraine and Ed Warren.
Despite facing personal struggles with mental health, including bipolar disorder, Kidder remained an outspoken advocate for various causes throughout her life. She won several awards, including a Saturn Award for Best Actress for her performance as Louis Lane in 1978, and continued to work in film and television until her passing in 2018.
Before the role of Lois Lane, Margot Kidder gave her brave portrayal of the provocative sorority sister Barb, who is constantly smoking, making sexual innuendos, and perpetually drunk in Black Christmas. It’s one of the standout roles of the film, mainly when she’s at her most raunchy or inebriated, smarting-mouthing at the cops.
Lynn Griffin and John Vernon in Curtains 1983.
A particularly gruesome slasher death in Curtains 1983.
Lynne Griffin appeared in the underrated and offbeat slasher film Curtains (1983). She is noted for her role alongside the other featured actresses like Linda Thorson and Samantha Eggar. The film’s plot centers around a group of actresses auditioning at a director’s country house, where they become targets of a mysterious killer.
In Black Christmas Lynne Griffin revealed that for the scenes where she’s wrapped in the plastic, she would rip a hole in the bag, stuffing the opening into her open mouth and poke nose holes in the bag with a pencil so she could breathe during filming. Being a swimmer also helped her hold her breath.
Mrs. Mac, played by Marian Waldman in Black Christmas, is the housemother of the sorority where the main characters reside. Known for her sharp wit and comedic presence, she often lightens the film’s dark atmosphere with her humorous antics, such as hiding bottles of alcohol throughout the house, including in the toilet tank. Despite her boozy demeanor, Mrs. Mac is a caring figure who tries to look out for the girls. Mrs. Mac serves as a comedic counterpoint to the film’s mounting tension. As the sorority house mother, she injects much-needed relief into the increasingly grim atmosphere with her boozy wisecracks.
Mrs. Mac: [on her nightgown gift] Well, thank you, girls. It’s lovely, really…
[muttering]Mrs. Mac: Got about as much use for this as I do a chastity belt.
Mrs. Mac: [looking at a hideous nightgown gift the sorority girls have given her] Jesus, I wouldn’t wear this to have my liver out!
Hollywood icon Bette Davis was initially offered the role of Mrs. MacHenry in Black Christmas, but the part ultimately went to character actress Waldman. ‘Mac’ was loosely inspired by one of Bob Clark’s aunts.
Bruce Lee and John Saxon in Enter the Dragon (1973).
John Saxon plays Lt. Fuller in Black Christmas. He took over the role after the original actor, Edmond O’Brien, was unable to fulfill it due to health issues. Born Carmine Orrico on August 5, 1935, in Brooklyn, New York, John was a martial arts pro known for his extensive career spanning over 60 years and more than 200 film and television projects. He studied acting under Stella Adler and initially gained fame as a teen idol in the 1950s with films like Rock, Pretty Baby (1956), and the crime thriller Portrait in Black (1961).
Saxon became a prominent figure in cult action films, particularly for his role as Roper in the iconic martial arts film Enter the Dragon (1973), co-starring with Bruce Lee.
In the realm of horror films, Saxon is perhaps best remembered for his performances in classics like – Black Christmas and, in the 80s – A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984) and a starring role in Dario Argento’s Giallo Tenebrae (1982). He often portrayed law enforcement characters, solidifying his status as a reliable presence in the genre. His filmography also includes notable Italian police films (poliziotteschi), such as Mitchell (1975). In 1976, he made a slew of them, including – Violent Naples (1976), Special Cop in Action (1976) – Italian title: Italia a mano armata, Blazing Magnum (1976), and La legge violenta della squadra anticrime (1976).
Beloved by his fans for his work in Sci-Fi, starting with Queen of Blood (1966) -Curtis Harrington’s low-budget space vampire film where Saxon played Allan Brenner and including Planet Earth (1974) – A TV pilot directed by Gene Roddenberry, where he played Dylan Hunt, Strange New World (1975) – another TV movie where he portrayed Captain Anthony Vico, The Bees 1978 horror/sci-fi with Angel Thompkins and John Carradine and Battle Beyond the Stars (1980) – Saxon played the role of Sador.
In television, he starred as Dr.Theodore Stuart for three seasons of the superior series The Bold Ones: The New Doctors (1969-1972). Some of his notable TV guest appearances include multiple episodes of Bonanza, The Time Tunnel, Dynasty from 1982 -1984, Falcon Crest, The A-Team, Wonder Woman, The Rockford Files, and playing a vampire in a particularly macabre episode of Starsky & Hutch.
Saxon passed away on July 25, 2020, but he remains celebrated for his versatility and contributions to cinema and television across multiple genres, particularly within cult and genre films.
Kier Dullea (2001: A Space Odyssey 1968) plays Olivia Hussey’s controlling boyfriend Peter. Dullea is no stranger to playing disturbed and unlikable characters, in particular, David and Lisa 1962, The Fox 1967 and Carol Lynley’s sexual-psychopathic brother in Bunny Lake is Missing 1965. Art Hindle plays Chris Hayden, Clare’s boyfriend, and Doug McGrath plays Sergeant Nash.
Through a Feminist Lens: Unmasking the Patriarchy: Black Christmas’ Feminist Rebellion – Sorority Sisterhood vs. Male Aggression: How Hussey’s Jess Shatters Horror Tropes with the Subversion of Gender Roles:
“The violence against women within the film – and the act of putting the viewer in the POV of Billy – aligns us with the dangerous misogyny at work, the kills emphasizing the suffering of the female victims. Their deaths are highly sensationalized, while in comparison, male characters – such as the police officer sent to check on the women – are killed offscreen. Of the mountain of bodies within Black Christmas, only two are male, highlighting the real-world imbalance in gendered violence that women are disproportionately more likely to experience.” – Becci Sayce for Moving Pictures Film Club- Dec. 30, 2023 -Toxic Masculinity and Male Aggression in BLACK CHRISTMAS (1974)
The killer remains faceless and nameless, emphasizing the women’s humanity in contrast. While not overtly feminist, Black Christmas explores themes of misogyny and violence against women through its portrayal of the killer as a psychosexual villain targeting vulnerable women.
Billy’s actions and dialogue suggest deep-seated issues with women, particularly those who deviate from traditional roles; the movie also touches on controversial topics for its time, such as abortion.
The obscene caller named the ‘Moaner’ eventually we’ll know only by the name ‘Billy’ is a particularly creepy villain, and his unsettling, bizarre vocalizations are chilling, calling the girls pigs and bitches, and spouting obscenities.
He ends the calls threatening to kill the sisters, bringing in elements that blur the lines between sexuality and violence. When Barb (Margot Kidder) provocatively challenges him, and Phyl (Andrea Martin) laughs at his threats, the killer perceives their reactions as an attack on his masculinity, and they ultimately pay the price.
The film portrays various forms of male aggression, from the killer’s obscene phone calls to Peter’s abusive behavior towards Jess. There is also Institutional negligence toward women’s safety, as the movie critiques the dismissive attitude of authority types when women report threats or concerns.
Presented alongside the complex and diverse, brash, and foul-mouthed Barb, her sorority sisters also defy the stereotype of demure women to challenge traditional feminine stereotypes. Jess actively confronts the killer and notifies the police about the situation. They all demonstrate their sisterhood as they try to protect each other when the police are slow to step in. In fact, some of the most heartfelt and selfless moments in Black Christmas occur between Jess and her sorority sisters as they navigate the turmoil surrounding them.
Jess’s calm rationality and Barb’s brash, unapologetic nature add a layer of archetypal characters to the plot.
Black Christmas offers a rich look at women’s lives in the 1970s, capturing the spirit of the emerging feminist movement with all its complexities.
This film is almost like a time capsule of 70s feminism but with a killer twist—a bunch of sorority sisters, each one a different flavor of female independence. You’ve got Barb, who’s all about embracing her sexuality and enjoying a good drink. Then there’s Jess, our leading heroine, who’s got career goals and isn’t afraid to make tough choices about her own body.
Jess Bradford is a self-sufficient dreamer. Throughout the film, she grapples with significant personal issues, particularly her unexpected pregnancy and her decision to have an abortion, which becomes a pivotal point in her relationship with her controlling boyfriend, Peter (Keir Dullea). Peter’s desire for Jess to keep the baby creates a huge conflict between them, which emphasizes Jess’s struggle for autonomy and her ambitions beyond traditional expectations of marriage and motherhood.
Peter: Jess, what’s wrong?
Jess: A little girl was found murdered in the park.
Peter: What?
Jess: The search party that was looking for Clare found a little girl murdered. Clare’s still missing.
Peter: Oh, Clare’s all right.
Jess: Is she?
Peter: [comes to sit next to her] Now, listen, Jess, I know you’re upset, but I’ve got something to tell you.
Jess: Hmm?
Peter: I’m leaving the conservatory.
Jess: Peter…!
[sighs]
Peter: Now, just hear me out. Will you hear me out, please? Now, I’ve lived in one room for eight years, and I’m tired of it. I’m tired of having to line up behind six people every time I wanna take a bath. I’ve had it! I’m quitting the conservatory, and we’re getting married.
[she looks at him in stunned surprise]
Peter: Well, say something.
Jess: Do you remember when we first met? You told me about your wanting to be a concert pianist. How it was your greatest dream? And I told you about some of the things I wanted to do. I still wanna do those things. You can’t ask me to drop everything I’ve been working for and give up all my ambitions because your plans have changed. Be realistic. I can’t marry you.
Peter: Sure you can! What does it change? We could be married. You could still do anything you wanted to do.
Jess: {shakes her head] Peter, I don’t wanna marry you.
Peter: [sighs] All right. What about the baby?
Jess is a very strong feminist avatar, a selfless and compassionate friend who makes her sisters just as important as the challenges she herself is facing. Bob Clark steers clear of portraying her in a negative light just because she is sexually active or while she makes the decision to end her pregnancy.
Peter: A Portrait of Toxic Masculinity
While thoroughly mad… Billy embodies extreme toxic masculinity; he’s not the sole perpetrator of male aggression in Black Christmas. Jess’s boyfriend Peter, is equally troubling in his abusive behavior when confronted with Jess’s pregnancy and her decision to get an abortion.
His reaction to her choice reveals a deeply ingrained sense of entitlement over her body and future, manifesting in verbal abuse as he demands to have a say in what happens with the baby.
Peter’s attempts to bully Jess into marriage and motherhood against her wishes underscore the film’s broader critique of patriarchal control and the struggle for women’s bodily autonomy. As she consistently rejects him, he becomes even more sullen and belligerent. Throughout the film, Peter’s behavior towards Jess, which uses manipulative tactics, is one of domination. He repeatedly tries to bully her into submission, but she will not bow down to his will.
His actions suggest that his main goal is to control Jess rather than genuinely care about her pregnancy. Peter’s primary concern is maintaining power over her, not supporting her choices.
Peter’s hostility serves a dual purpose in the narrative. It not only heightens the suspense by presenting him as a plausible suspect but also underscores the film’s broader critique of male aggression.
Peter’s piano audition also serves as a chaotic counterpoint to the film’s established tension. His performance foreshadows his later outburst, where he violently destroys a baby grand piano.
This destructive act stems from his rage towards Jess, fueled by her refusal to comply with his demands. The piano incident illustrates Peter’s volatile nature and inability to handle rejection or failure. His violent reaction to the failed recital mirrors his aggressive response to Jess’s self-empowerment and her personal decision to take control of her own body, highlighting his tendency to lash out when things don’t go his way.
Peter: You selfish bitch! You talk about killing our baby like you’re having a wart removed!
As he becomes more rageful, the vicious verbal assaults, reminiscent of Billy’s menacing calls, reveal a disturbing continuum of misogynistic behavior that ranges from socially accepted forms of control to outright violence when she refuses to move away from the college with him.
This clever narrative device challenges viewers to confront the uncomfortable reality that the line between an abusive partner and a deranged killer may be thinner than society often acknowledges. By drawing this parallel, the film subtly comments on the pervasive nature of patriarchal control and its potential for escalation.
As Jess is stalked by the unseen Billy and receives more disturbing phone calls revealed to be coming from inside the house, by the film’s climax, Jess is faced with both the external threat of the killer and the internal turmoil of her doubts and discontent with her relationship with Peter. Her love affair with Peter mirrors the lurking presence of the killer, as both represent the invasive forces that disrupt her safety and empowerment – one through emotional entanglement and suffocating expectations, the other through physical violence and terror.
The sorority house is a space dominated by women making their own decisions and showing solidarity until this predator threatens to tear them apart. The film critiques patriarchal structures through its depiction of the male as a hunter of women as well as male authority figures, who initially dismiss the women’s concerns.
Barb: [to Sergeant Nash] You know, for a public servant, I think your attitude really sucks!
In Black Christmas, the focus is largely on Jess desperately urging the police to take her seriously as more women mysteriously vanish.
When you approach these aspects of Black Christmas, you can see how the killer’s actions serve as a metaphor for patriarchal resistance to women’s empowerment, creating a conflict between the sisters’ autonomy and the violent misogyny they face. The killer in Black Christmas can be interpreted as a symbol of invasive misogyny, disrupting the agency and solidarity of the sorority women through his violent actions, obscene phone calls, and psychological manipulation, which reflect broader societal fears and tensions surrounding women’s independence during the 1970s.
A Chilling Yuletide: Silent Night, Deadly Night: Black Christmas Unfolds:
Black Christmas, shot on location in Toronto to set the scene for winter, establishes an atmosphere of impending dread through its innovative first-person cinematography, showing us a snow-covered sorority house illuminated by vibrant Christmas lights.
The beginning of Black Christmas unfolds with an eerie familiarity. We will see something similar to John Carpenter’s Halloween. We’re introduced to a sorority house decked out with festive decorations in celebration of the ‘holiday.’
However, the scene is experienced through the eyes of the unseen intruder. As he ascends a trellis to access a second-floor window, the perspective mirrors the iconic opening shot of Halloween, immersing the audience in the chilling point of view of the stalker. Drowning out the sounds of the women inside as they peer through the window, the lurking presence’s hushed breathing fills the air and veils their voices.
The camera follows this unseen intruder’s uneven rhythm of his breathing and disorienting perspective as he stealthily approaches the snow-covered sorority house, scaling the trellis and slipping into the attic through a window. A distant, muted choir of holiday voices singing softly in the distance
The scene overlaps with the sorority women reveling in their final party before the term ends.
At Christmas in Bedford, the Pi Kappa Sigma sorority house at Six Belmont Place will be terrorized by a notorious deviant phone caller known only as the “Moaner.” But on this particular night, the stakes have escalated dramatically. This audacious intruder has not only been making obscene calls but has now taken his menacing harassment to a whole new level—he has scaled the walls of the house and slipped in through an open attic window.
The camera, an unseen voyeur, tracks the lurker’s ragged breaths, transforming them into an auditory guide through a disorienting visual entrance. The sequence – disorienting, dizzying, and distorted – unfolds in a series of off-kilter frames, each shot deliberately askew; as we ascend, the lens fixates on grasping hands, their desperate scramble up the weathered trellis a metaphor for the climb into the unknown. The attic, once reached, reveals itself not as a mere space to keep things tucked away but as a chaotic gallery of forgotten relics and latent menace. In this claustrophobic realm, the camera’s gaze settles on a close-up sinister painted rocking horse that commands attention. Through masterful cinematography and set design, the scene transcends mere visual description, instead crafting a palpable psychological distress.
Oblivious to the fact that a maniac has slipped into their sorority house, the sisters hurry energetically around, fully immersed in their holiday festivities. Among them is Barbara ‘Barb’ Coard (Margot Kidder), a heavy-drinking, sharp-tongued cynic whose abrasive demeanor and sexual innuendo often puts people off.
Barb: Did you know, this is a very little known fact, but… did you know that there’s a certain species of turtle that… there’s a certain species of turtle that can screw for three days without stopping. You don’t believe me, do you? Well, I-I mean, how could I make something like that up?
Mrs. Mac: Ah, Barb, dear, ah, I-I-I-ah…
Barb: No, really! They just… three days, 24 hours a day, VA-voom! Wha-voom! VA-voom! Can you believe that, three days? I’m lucky if I get three minutes! Do you know how I know this? Because I went down to the zoo and I watched them. It was very boring. Well actually, um, I, uh, didn’t stay for the whole three days, I went over and I watched the zebras, because they only take thirty seconds! Premature ejaculation!
Jess (Olivia Hussey) answers two phone calls, the second of which draws the attention of her fellow sisters, gathering around closely to listen to the disturbing incantations of the caller. Another sister, Barb—a bold presence with a cigarette in one hand and her blouse flirtatiously askew—snatches the phone and makes it abundantly clear to the caller to leave them alone. In a chilling twist, the caller’s tone shifts to a calm menace as he tells her he’s going to kill her before he hangs up.
Clare: [about the obscene phone call] Could that really be just one person?
Barb: No, Clare, it’s the Mormon Tabernacle Choir making their annual obscene phone call.Barb: Oh, why don’t you go find a wall socket and stick your tongue in it? That’ll give you a charge.
Billy: [to Barb, on the phone, somberly] I’m going to kill you.
Yet beneath Barb’s tough exterior lies a more profound truth: a family life as hollow as the empty liquor bottles she leaves behind. Her biting sarcasm and bravado mask the disillusionment that exists amidst all the cheerful holiday chaos buzzing around her.
Barb: [on phone] You’re a real gold-plated whore, mother, you know that?
Early on, she expresses her disappointment when her mother informs Barb she’s doing something different for Christmas. Later, she is consumed by guilt after an argument she had with Clare, one of the sorority sisters who has now vanished.
The stunning Jess Bradford (Olivia Hussey) is in a tumultuous relationship with Peter, a temperamental pianist struggling to find his footing. She’s just discovered that she’s pregnant with his child. Meanwhile, Phyl (Andrea Martin) stands out as the house’s intellectual nerd, while Clare Harrison (Lynne Griffin) is what Barb teases as a “professional virgin.” Clare is dating a ‘townie,’ which is also frowned upon by the sisters.
Lynn Griffin and Andrea Martin as Clare and Phyl in Black Christmas.
Barb: Come on, I know a professional virgin when I see one.
Barb: Come on, this is a sorority house, not a convent!
[upon seeing that Mrs. Mac is coming inside the house]
Barb: Speaking of professional virgins, here we have the Queen of Vaudeville circa 1891.
Mrs. Mack (Marian Waldman), the housemother, oversees this eclectic group of co-eds. Her fondness for alcohol is matched only by her penchant for maintaining her own suite in the house—complete with a private phone line.
Clare’s Body: A Haunting Tableau: the Shocking Catalyst That Defines Black Christmas:
In perhaps one of the most chilling scenes of any classic horror films I’ve seen – (in the realm of Joy Bang surrounded by the uncanny crowd slowly filling the seats at a movie theater in Messiah of Evil 1973, Mia Farrow’s throat being slit by an evil ghostly little girl in The Haunting of Julia 1977 and the menacing dwarf in red wool coat – performs the grisly murder of Donald Sutherland in Roeg’s Don’t Look Now 1973).
Unraveling the Knot: Don’t Look Now (1973) A Mesmeric Paradox of Grief in Uncanny Red: Part 1
Unraveling the Knot: Don’t Look Now (1973) A Mesmeric Paradox of Grief in Uncanny Red: Part 2
A moment of unsuspecting vulnerability, Clare retreats to her bedroom to pack for the holiday, unaware of the malevolent presence lurking within. In silhouette, we see only his hands.
(At one point in the film, as Jess is left as the sole occupant of the house, in a terrifying moment, once again, only a fragment of the killer – is what we see – the one wide-eyed closeup as he hides. It is a stunning voyeuristic shot).
As she enters her room, the closet door creaks open, revealing the shadowy figure of ‘Billy’? With swift and brutal efficiency, he suffocates her with a plastic dry cleaner bag. The clear plastic covers her face, asphyxiating her while she desperately gasps for air.
Clare’s struggle is brief but intense, her fingers clawing helplessly, sealing her fate in a horrifying act that will come back to haunt the end of the film and us as we see her left on a rocking chair by the window, like a lifeless mannequin – her eyes blank and filled with horror that no one else sees but us, and Claude the cat. Her death mask is revealed in a grimace of fear or despair in the last spark of life. It’s a gruesome revelation.
The scene, captured with a handheld camera in an actual closet, lends a raw, claustrophobic quality to Clare’s final moments. Her wide eyes, visible through the translucent plastic, convey a haunting mix of terror and disbelief as life slowly ebbs away.
In a macabre epilogue to her demise, Billy drags Clare’s lifeless form to the attic, arranging her corpse in a rocking chair by the window. With twisted tenderness, he places a doll in her lap, creating a grotesque tableau that serves as a silent witness to the horrors unfolding in the sorority house.
The attic is shrouded in a dim, flickering light that barely penetrates the thick shadows clinging to the corners. Reginald H. Morris’s low lighting creates this with perfect effect.
The air is heavy with an oppressive silence that amplifies every creak of the old wooden beams—a reminder of the lifelessness that now occupies this space.
The unsettling décor and the props—the plastic bag, the rocking chair, and the attic window—add to the scene. The attic is cluttered with forgotten relics—a tattered rocking chair and dusty boxes—which become sinister witnesses to Clare’s fate. A doll sits eerily on a shelf, its glassy eyes seeming to follow you, adding to the sense of being watched.
And there’s the haunting quiet. The silence is thick and suffocating, and the walls themselves are holding onto the echoes of Clare’s last moments. The scene is quite a set piece, and central to it is the presence of Clare’s body arranged unnaturally in the rocking chair, her stillness contrasting sharply with the jumbled energy of the attic. The sight is both tragic and bears a sort of distortion, evoking a visceral reaction from the juxtaposition of her lifeless form against the backdrop of childhood innocence, creating a haunting tableau that lingers in the mind. I know it lingers in my mind.
Bob Clark truly had a vision for setting up visual cues to evoke ‘feeling’ and a sense of place. This works so well in A Christmas Story; every detail is an absolute nostalgic jewel. It also works in abject dark places in stark contrast.
After hiding the lifeless body in the attic, the Moaner/Billy makes another chilling call to the house phone. Jess answers, her heart pounding with dread as she is assaulted by a chorus of deranged voices; among them are the sinister names of Agnes and Billy, their personalities echoing through the line, all shouting at unintelligible intervals and octaves.
The following day, Clare’s father, Mr. Harrison (James Edmond), arrives on campus to take her home for winter break at the sorority house, only to discover that his daughter has vanished without a trace. Her disappearance – (though we know where her lifeless body sits) brings a level of panic to her father; when she fails to meet him, it triggers a sequence of events.
As Harrison steps into his daughter’s room, he’s greeted by a riot of posters that scream youthful rebellion and questionable taste— sexuality and subversion abound. To add to his surprise, he learns that she has a boyfriend, which indeed sends his protective instincts into overdrive. His disapproval is palpable as he vocalizes his expressed criticism of Mrs. Mac (Marian Waldman), the house mother, who tries to conceal a lewd poster while nursing a drink. Harrison vows to take matters into his own hands.
Mr. Harrison: I didn’t send my daughter here to be drinking and picking up the boys.
Mrs. Mac: [mocking Mr. Harrison] I didn’t send my daughter here to be drinking and picking up boys.” Tough shit! I was supposed to be responsible
[takes hearty swig from bottle of wine] for the morals of every girl in this Goddamn house. These broads would hump the Leaning Tower of Pisa if they could get up there!
He promptly approaches the police, but his concerns are met with skepticism, and they dismiss him. However, the situation takes a grim turn when the lifeless body of a mutilated thirteen-year-old girl is discovered in a nearby park.
Sergeant Nash: Excuse me? Could you give me the number at the sorority house? Please?
Barb: Yeah, sure. It’s, ah… Fellatio 20880. Fellatio. It’s a new exchange, FE.
Sergeant Nash: That’s a new one on me. How do you spell it?
Barb: Capital F, E, little L, L-A, T-I-O.
Sergeant Nash: Thanks.
Barb: Don’t mention it.
John Saxon, Olivia Hussey, and Art Hindle in Black Christmas.
When Jess goes to the police station to file a report, she demands that they take her seriously.
This marks the second moment when Jess takes a stand for her independence while having an encounter with men. She has just told her boyfriend, Peter, about her pregnancy, and she not only firmly states her decision to have an abortion.
Jess boldly insists that she has no intention of becoming a mother or walking down the aisle with him. Even as he tries to intimidate her and warns her that she will “regret it” if she goes through with the abortion, Jess remains unyielding, her determination unshaken by his threats.
Jess: I’m pregnant.
Peter: Jess, that’s fantastic!
Jess: I don’t want it.
Peter: What?
Jess: I want to have an abortion.
Peter: Jess, you can’t make a decision like that, you haven’t even asked me.
Jess: I wasn’t even going to tell you.Peter: Jess, let’s get one thing straight: you’re not going to abort that baby.
Jess: Peter, you can’t tell me what I can and can’t do.
The shocking discovery of the dead little girl in the park compels Lt. Fuller (John Saxon) and his team to recognize the seriousness of the situation and initiate a search for Clare. Amidst this growing tension, Jess informs Lt. Fuller about the peculiar calls the sorority house has been receiving.
Determined to uncover the truth, Fuller instructs Jess to keep the line open the next time the “Moaner” decides to make his twisted calls. As the girls rally together in their search for Clare, — he cunningly lures Mrs. Mack by mimicking the meows of the house cat, Claude. Then, Mrs. Mack is brutally murdered in the attic.
The night descends into chaos as Billy rings the sorority once more; this time, he repeats the very words Peter used during a heated argument with Jess about her pregnancy. Fear grips Jess as she contemplates the horrifying possibility that her own boyfriend might be the killer. Yet, she keeps her suspicions to herself, reluctant to share her fears with Lt. Fuller.
Billy: [referring to her potential abortion] Just like having a wart removed.
Jess: Oh, my God!
In one of Billy’s disgusting phone calls that Jess reluctantly picks up, he mirrors Peter’s earlier criticisms about her decision to end her pregnancy. This unsettling similarity not only echoes their shared views but also reveals a deeper psychological link between the two men, suggesting they are disturbing reflections of each other.
Barb, who had previously mocked Clare for being virginal and shamelessly taunts a police officer that part of the house’s phone number was “FE-llatio,” finds herself in a vulnerable moment when Jess comforts her after a nighttime asthma attack. However, the situation takes a dark turn when, later, Billy brutally kills Barb while she sleeps, impaling her with her own glass unicorn. Meanwhile, Jess remains blissfully unaware while she enjoys a children’s choir performance just outside the door as Barb lies dying.
Death by Unicorn: A Whimsical Nightmare:
I’m including this extra shot because I’m just so into Barb’s vintage 70s sheets!
The house holds another brutal slaying when the killer strikes while Barb sleeps, plunging a glass unicorn into her repeatedly, shattering not only the glass figurine that is supposed to represent magic and possibility but also the fragile sense of safety that once surrounded the sorority.
The next time he phones, the police successfully trace the call. Sergeant Nat informs Jess that the killer is dialing from within the house, specifically from Mrs. Mack’s private line upstairs. Despite being ordered to evacuate, Jess feels an overwhelming urge to uncover what has happened to her missing friend, Phyl. Her search leads her to an upstairs bedroom, where she is confronted with the grim revelation of Phyl’s lifeless body sprawled beside Barbara.
When the police finally manage to trace the call, Jess is hit with the chilling revelation that the calls are coming from inside the house. They tell her to get out immediately, but she refuses to leave. Instead, she decides to take up a weapon ready to defend her sisterhood, unaware that Barb, Clare, and Phyl have already been murdered.
Sergeant Nash: [Jess has managed to keep the caller on the line for almost a full two minutes, allowing the phone company to trace the call] Uh, Lt. Fuller?
Lt. Fuller: Yeah, Nash, what is it?
Sergeant Nash: The phone company’s on the other line, sir. They say they got a trace on this one.
Lt. Fuller: Yeah, let’s have it!
Sergeant Nash: He says the calls are coming from #6 Belmont Street.
Lt. Fuller: For Christ’s sake, Nash, you got it wrong. That’s where the calls are going into.
Sergeant Nash: That’s where they’re coming from, too, sir.
Lt. Fuller: [pause] Oh, shit…
Sergeant Nash: [after Sergeant Nash calls the sorority house] Who is this?
Jess: It’s Jess.
Sergeant Nash: Ah, Ms. Bradford, eh, this is Sergeant Nash. Are you the only one in the house?
Jess: No. Phyl and Barb are upstairs asleep. Why?
Sergeant Nash: All right. Now, I want you to do exactly what I tell you without asking any questions, okay?
[Jess tries to ask something]
Sergeant Nash: No, no, no… no questions. Now, just put the phone back on the hook, walk to the front door, and leave the house.
Jess: What’s wrong?
Sergeant Nash: Please, Ms. Bradford, please just do as I tell you.
Jess: Okay. I’ll get Phyl and Barb.
Sergeant Nash: No, no, no! Don’t do that, Jess… Jess, the caller, is in the house. The calls are coming from the house!
In a remarkable display of courage, Jess grabs a fire poker and races up the stairs, determined to confront Billy. Though she is mere feet from the door and can make her escape, she decides to stay and fight.
Jess is prepared to plunge headfirst into danger, confronting this unseen attacker without hesitation. This bold move reflects the bravery of a woman who has endured constant belittlement from Peter, who has branded her as selfish throughout much of the film. In this moment, she transcends his criticisms, embodying a true heroine.
And because of Peter’s hostility, Lt. Fuller suspects he may be the killer because all this rage has been focused on women.
Billy, or whoever it is, chases Jess into the basement. Jess locks herself in, her heart racing, when Peter suddenly breaks a window to get inside. Convinced he’s the killer, partly due to Fuller’s suggestion, she acts in a moment of panic and bludgeons him to death with the poker. When the police arrive at the sorority house, Lt. Fuller comes to the same unsettling conclusion: Peter is indeed the murderer.
After removing the bodies from the house, all except poor Clare, up in the attic, traumatized and in shock, Jess is sedated and left to rest at the sorority house until her parents arrive in a few hours.
Just as a fragile peace settles in, a fleeting shadow moves through the frame, and the phone rings again…
Black Christmas both establishes and subverts horror conventions: While introducing the “Final Girl” trope, the film complicates it by leaving Jess’s fate ambiguous. It closes with not only Jess having survived the ordeal but symbolically taking her life and body back by removing the oppressive influence of Peter.
The film’s ambiguity and refusal to reveal the killer’s identity or motive contribute to its unresolved uneasiness and lasting psychological impact.
Unlike later slashers, there’s an ambiguity that exists within Black Christmas that refuses to provide closure or a clear explanation for the killer’s motives, maintaining psychological tension. The film relies on more subtle horror and atmosphere and implied violence than graphic gore, aligning it more closely with psychological thrillers than later slasher films.
Bob Clark’s Black Christmas (1974) stands as a groundbreaking proto-slasher film that not only laid the foundation for the slasher subgenre but also offers the opportunity for critical analysis, particularly and often written about through a feminist and psychoanalytic lens.
Here is a re-visit to an earlier post I did on Black Christmas.
This is you, EverLovin’ Joey, sayin’ I wish for you a very brightly lit Holiday Season!
