[Editorial] 12 Ghouls of Christmas: Smart sexual politics are a draw, but subversive sparkle is what makes Black Christmas (2019) a modern festive classic

Much has been written about Sophia Takal and April Wolfe’s 2019 version of sorority horror Black Christmas since its release. That the Universal Pictures/Blumhouse production is “quick, cheap-looking” and hurried. That it’s a successful contemporary tale of female solidarity and survival. That it’s “absolutely dreadful”. That it was the “cherry on the horror cake” of 2019. That it’s too overtly political for a horror film... and much, much worse. 

Reader, I will leave you to seek out the specifics of the less imaginative commentators and draw your own conclusions about any patterns that appear. But I do have three words for you: pale, stale and male.

What’s discussed less often is how funny and smart and authentic this latest Black Christmas is. How cute and camp it is, leaning into its title to assert itself as deeply and definitively a Christmas film. Or how for all these reasons - and importantly for an annual holiday-centric movie - it’s extremely rewatchable.

Like any good Christmas film, Takal and Wolfe’s slasher includes moments centred on traditional delights like games and food, and hearing Christmas songs out in the wild, in this case the coffee shop where protagonist Riley (Imogen Poots) works - anyone who’s worked in retail at this time of year knows this is what real terror feels like.

The film opens with a tight-knit group of sorority girls enjoying the build-up to Winter Break. The Mu Kappa Epsilon (MKE) sisters are gathered around a roaring fire, exchanging Secret Santa gifts. Much of the film is shot in rich, warm tones and conveys a real sense of Christmas coziness. In this early scene, the girls are dressed like they actually probably would be - in their pyjamas, sweatpants and flannel, with cute little details like kitty ears thrown on for good measure. I take off my Santa hat to costume designer Jaindra Watson for not having them prance around in see-through baby dolls and tummy-tees; as well as saving us from yet another inexplicable display of teen skin, it really creates an atmosphere of wintery comfort.

Secret Santa - that age-old, big group present-giving tradition - plays more of a part than just a scene of cutesy girl friendship. The gifting of a sex toy emphasises their sexual independence and sprinkles on some early mystery; it has been bought because, “You told me yours disappeared! And every girl needs a little self-care.” Later on it’s queried how someone can lose a Diva Cup, but how do you lose a vibrator?! The answer is of course, you don’t; valued items like that don’t disappear without a little help from some threatened patriarchal minions.

Incidentally, the Diva Cup scene is more layered than just an excuse to brazenly reference period admin on screen. Riley and Fran (Nathalie Morris) are comfortable enough to not only discuss and share sanitary protection, but after Riley gives her a pad Fran goes right ahead and applies it there and then, with zero shame from either of them. “How do you lose a Diva Cup?”, Riley asks with a laugh. “With abandon!” is Fran’s reply. These young women are liberated enough to act and speak frivilously around their health - a fact thrown into stark contrast with overarching themes of the film, within which they remain at risk from personal sexual attacks (Riley is a rape survivor) and the overall opression of an alpha patriarchy looking to reassert its authority over women who step out of line.

The scene is also an opportunity for a sweet moment of religious inclusion as Fran exits with a “Merry Christmas. From this Jew to you.” We also later see a menorah as part of the sorority house’s festive decorations. This may be Black Christmas, but Hanukkah horror is more than welcome at the party.

Fran is heading home for the holidays, and - as in Bob Clark’s 1974 original - the Winter Break itself creates a sense of isolation for those left behind, not to mention an elevated sense of despondency from public servants who are either demob happy or extra suspicious about potential disappearances with so many students in transit.

What the film does particularly well is to utilise and subvert Christmas traditions to create horror and, being set on a college campus, it mines all the opportunities it can to demonstrate how quickly squeals of delight can turn into screams.

“Christmas is a time for looking sexy!” Helena protests to Riley in another early exchange, but rather than sex being celebrated or punished - the way it often is in teen slashers - this Black Christmas uses sexuality as a weapon of revenge. Certainly, the Santa outfits the girls wear during their brilliant rendition of ‘Up in the Frat House’ in front of Riley’s attacker are targeted as a sexy, subversive middle-finger to college culture. The festive season is further weaponised when a killer uses a huge icicle to kill his victim while she carves out a snow angel beneath her before being dragged away. See? Totally Christmassy!

Decorations are also used to great effect thematically, to create tension and scares. During the pre-title kill, Lindsay (Lucy Currey) is stalked and attacked on a suburban street, and even the bright lights and inflatable snowmen cheerfully adorning the houses can’t keep her safe. Talking of outdoor decorations, production designer Mark Robins also uses them to signify a difference between the fraternity and the sorority; we see the frat house of Delta Kappa Omega adorned with the saddest display: measly tinsel, some barely attached to a pillar, and the surrounding ground littered with beer bottles. The MKE house, in contrast, in literally the next shot is resplendent in gold, green and red lights.

Christmas lights continue to shine down on the action. In one of the set-pieces most reminiscent of the original Black Christmas, Jesse (Brittany O'Grady) heads up into the attic. She’s looking for tree lights, and in classic Christmas style escaping a ‘family’ fight as Marty (Lily Donoghue) and her boyfriend Nate (Simon Mead) scream at each other around the tree. Of course, as is always the way, the lights Jesse finds don’t work. “Do Christmas lights expire?”, she asks the apparently empty attic, in the pleasant, ditsy way we’ve gotten to know from her character. Here, Takal uses this funny Christmas trope to create an effective jump scare (which I won’t spoil if you haven’t seen it). In the house below, once the attack begins in earnest, all the main lights go out and the Christmas decorations cast a red glow in which to stage the action, intercut with an icy blue as Kris (Aleyse Shannon) finds Jesse upstairs, a huge shard of glass through her face and the lights she found strung round her neck throwing out an eerie glow.

More examples of Christmas decorations being used to create discomfort are the noisy motion-sensing Santa that woke up Helena at 4am (who was sneaking into the house to trigger that?!) and some innocent mistletoe that becomes a prompt for an attacker in a deep red velvet hood and mask to aggressively kiss Riley, without consent. Then she keys him in the throat though, so I guess what goes around comes around to a certain extent.

The red cloaks aren’t a million miles away from a Santa outfit, and while I don’t believe Takal and Wolfe had any intention of calling out Father Christmas as an agent of toxic masculinity, the frat uniforms do double as an effective link to cults and cosmic horror. In Fangoria in December 2019, April Wolfe said, “As a woman who was raped in college and whose rapist continued teaching students like me, I know firsthand how surreal something like our protagonist's assault can seem. It is, as I've said before, cosmic horror, something seemingly inexplicable in its power, endurance, and indifference. I also know that I survived with the dark wit of my friends and their boundless support.” 

I said at the beginning of this article that Black Christmas (2019) has been written about as a successful contemporary tale of female solidarity and survival, and I agree with that strongly. It is a daft Christmas slasher and a lot of its more powerful messaging is effective because we spend time with these strong, sweet, loyal young women, and amongst all this festive fun.

But as film journalist Jordan Crucchiola so eloquently put in Vulture in January 2020, “One of the central tenants of Takal and Wolfe’s Black Christmas is the power of women standing together. Why have one Final Girl when you can have a community of triumphant women?” Our central quad of friends - all with androgynous names as only the best Final Girls can (Riley, Jesse, Marty and Kris) simply wanted a Christmas filled with chosen family, but had it hijacked by a bunch of privileged misogynists. Thank goodness they’re joined in the end by more female students and allies from around campus to overpower the patriarchy - at least this tiny slice of it.

Is it snow or ash that falls around them as the film draws to a close? Either way, all the bad men burn and I can’t think of anything more festive than that.

So put on your comfiest PJs, pop on a Santa hat, maybe grab a sex toy and some ham, and settle down for a rewatch of this underloved Christmas horror gem.

RELATED ARTICLES

---

---

EXPLORE

---

MORE ARTICLES

---

---