Previous Weekends’ Movies: “Black X-Mas”

July 5, 2007

As I watched (and then, just sort of half-watched) this movie, I kept thinking of William Hurt’s line in A History of Violence, “How do you screw that up?” It’s a question I wanted to ask writer-director Glen Morgan. A psychotic killer. A sorority house as Christmas filled with nubile, young women. How do you screw that up?

But screw it up, Morgan did. The same way he screwed up The X-Files, Millennium, Space: Above and Beyond, and whatever other cinematic endeavors this guy has undertaken. It’s not just the pedestrian camera work and dull-as-Triscuits script–you gotta expect those things from any disreputable slasher flick–no, Morgan has managed to piss away the best element of the movie.

Hot sorority chicks. All alone at Christmas. It doesn’t take a Mensa candidate to figure out the logical direction the film should go: plenty of partying, sex, and gratuitous nudity. Hell, even the worst Friday the 13th sequel throws in an obligatory topless shot. But no, Morgan wants us to understand the twisted history of the killer and know why he kills. Right, Glen, because that add so much to the story. I’d much rather watch that then hot soroity babes and so would your key 15-30 year-old demographic.

So, instead of watching the girls give each other backrubs in lingerie, we get flashbacks to the most dysfunctional family in the universe. Instead of watching the girls have pillow fights in lingerie, we get some half-assed Flowers in the Attic subplot. Instead of watching a couple of the girls experiment with bisexuality, we get…well, you see where this is going. Does someone have to explain to Glen Morgan that watching hot sorority girls frolick in lingerie is more interesting that watching a yellow-skinned freak kid get sexually abused by his mother? And if so, exactly how much crack is he smoking?

Granted, the girls aren’t smoking hot, but casting Michelle Trachtenberg and Lacey Chabert at least promises some illicit, jailbait fun. Alas, any hopes of watching Buffy’s little sister make out with the Party of Five little sister are cruelly dashed. And what was the thinking behind casting Andrea Martin as the house mother? Why couldn’t the house mother be some hot grad student who likes doing yoga in her sports bra and short-shorts? Then she could notice one of the girls surreptitiously watching her and invite the girl to join her. One things leads to another, and pretty soon… See? The damn screenplay writes itself!

But no, the girls all remain fully clothed. They snipe and argue and are generally about as much fun to watch as real sorority girls are. And then the killer starts dispatching them and taking their eyeballs. There’s also some dull tripe in there about the meaning of family and what it means to be a part of a family. Glen, if you’re trying to build subtext into a movie where the bad guy makes Christmas cookies out of his mother’s corpse, you may want to take a few more screenwriting classes at the local community college.

The movie had three different endings (none of which involved practicing French kissing and/or lingerie), which generally signals that things were a wreck from the start. Pity the producers couldn’t have stepped in earlier in the production and added the T&A this film so desperately needed.

I’m still a little in awe of Black X-mas, though. Sorority babes and a serial killer…How do you screw that up? Apparently Glen Morgan found a way.

One comment

  1. […] down! Rambo shot his down. To trot out a lament that led to the creation of this blog way back in Black X-Mas, how do you screw that […]

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: