Don't Open Till Christmas

source: Don't Open Till Christmas

"Don't Open Till Christmas" is definitely not among the worst films of its type, but that's not a big enough accomplishment to be proud of. The premise could be described as a reverse version of "Silent Night, Deadly Night", and it has an unmistakable element of idiocy in it (why don't people stop dressing up as Santa Clauses for a while? Shouldn't the police issue a warning or even an order?) Although the film is set and shot in London, there is little of the city's flavor in the cheap production. Like most slasher films, it is basically a drearily monotonous series of graphic killings. Fans of the genre may see this as a good thing, except that even the killings themselves are mostly unimaginative (the very last one is probably the best). It also tries to add a bit of mystery to the mix, but gives us no real clues. (*1/2)

All right. So the plot's something like this. There's some guy who goes around in random masks and he kills a bunch of people who dress up as Santa Claus. Scotland Yard tries to find him, but they really suck. The daughter of one of the Santa's he kills tries to find him and succeeds, but her deductions don't make any sense. Then everybody dies except for the serial killer. Merry Christmas. I knew this wasn't going to be pretty when they misspelled the name of the film in the opening credits. It's almost entirely made up of scenes that are so short and so all over the place that you really can't make any connection with what's going on. The movie would be really predictable (there's a sinister innocuous secondary character, like in Scooby Doo), except that it's impossible to keep track of everything that's happening, as it's completely random. None of the characters are particularly likable, and the scenes really could be arranged in any order. Nonetheless, some of the Santa deaths were fun. The castration was impressive, as was the guy who apparently soaks himself in gasoline before coming to work every day. Amusing, in a sort of god-awful way.

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 *-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 *, but it just isn't enough to prevent this from being a dud.

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!"

A terrible movie on many levels. The plot is absolutely ridiculous and outlandish. The acting mediocre at best. The premise involves people that dawn Santa costumes during the holidays being unceremoniously killed one by one. Therein lies the problem; lack of ceremony. A slasher movie without ceremony is like a romance film without a kiss. Santa after Santa is killed. However, we don't know who they are, we don't care, and suspense doesn't fit anywhere is this poorly constructed equation. The murders themselves are not doted on and lack any imagination whatsoever. Going back to the story line, logic is totally thrown out the window at every misstep. With an entire city under a terrifying siege, why on earth do people continuing to put on these ridiculous costumes, only to seemingly wander right into the hands of the killer? Had this been handled by a competent writer and director, not to mention the addition of a budget, any budget, there's actually potential to this very anemic holiday horror.

This movie was terrible!For some stupid reason,which they never explain,This man goes around killing everyone dressed as Santa.It may sound alright,but it sucks.I picked up this movie at a $5.00 sale,and it isnt even worth that.Caroline Munro fans wont even like this,beware. Don't give it a second thought!

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 * 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.

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.

The same year that the American made "Silent Night, Deadly Night" caused a furor over its controversial content, the US / UK co-production "Don't Open Till Christmas" was released, with a premise reversing that of its counterpart; it's up to the viewer whether they find this more or less distasteful. In this instance, Santa Claus is not the murderer, but the victim - more to the point, any man in this movie wearing a Santa costume is fair game for a sadistic killer with a hatred for all things Christmas. The put upon Scotland Yard inspector Ian Harris (Edmund Purdom) is in charge of the case, while young Kate (Belinda Mayne) sees her own father perish near the beginning of the story due to his having been in Santa garb at the time. For a movie that was such a troubled production, "Don't Open Till Christmas" is about as "good" as it could possibly be. Purdom, who'd already acted for producers Dick Randall and Steve Minasian in the notorious "Pieces", agreed to star in this under the condition that he get to direct. After Purdom failed to be up to the task, screenwriter Derek Ford was brought in, only to be fired soon himself. The job then landed in editor Ray Selfes' lap, and Alan Birkinshaw was recruited to do some rewriting. Ultimately, Selfe did assemble something basically coherent out of the footage that was shot. For entertainment value, though, this is hard to beat, especially for any horror fan who prefers their viewings to be on the decidedly trashy and sleazy side. Co-stars Pat Astley and Kelly Baker, very sexy birds both of them, show off some delectable bodies. Astley has a great scene, where, standing outdoors, clad in little more than a Santa coat, she is molested by the killers' straight razor. The various murders are sure to have folks howling with approval: being burned on a brazier, stabbed, castrated and left to bleed to death, etc. Two major set pieces have one victim pursued through a "dungeon" containing assorted macabre displays and props, and another slaughtered in a basement while a cheesy music number, performed by the legendary sex symbol Caroline Munro, is taking place above. The decent performances (save for Purdom, who looks disinterested throughout) get the job done; standing out are Mark Jones as Sergeant Powell and Alan Lake (a real hoot) as the reporter Giles; sadly, Lake never lived to see this become a sort of cult favourite as he committed suicide the following year. Some silly & hilarious moments add to the fun, such as the reason why Cliff (Gerry Sundquist) abandoned Sharon outside in the first place. The killers' motivation, shown in flashback form right near the end of the movie, will be very familiar to those who have seen a certain other "killer Santa" classic. The music is sometimes reminiscent of vintage John Carpenter, and is most amusing, as is the abrupt denouement, and the subversion of at least one genre cliché. Fans of seasonal horror are advised to check this one out. It finally got a proper DVD release in Region 1 thanks to Mondo Macabro, and it looks better than it ever has. Giving it a viewing may well become a tradition for you as it has for this viewer. Eight out of 10.