Don't Open 'Til Christmas [1984] [DVD]

There's something curiously satisfying about seeing a film depicting Father Christmas, resplendent in garish red and white fur trimmed outfit and silly beard being offed, which is good enough in itself in my book and I thought it was a particularly nice touch of the film makers to go to the trouble of tacking a story around this idea.
If you've ever seen any London based low budget horror from this era then you'll pretty much know whether or not this is for you. It has the standard set pieces, soft porn photographer, inept coppers, topless amateur actressess, mental asylum, ropey effects and acting and a dozen or so slayings with the strangulation and combustion on the chestnut roaster being my particular favourite.
It was nice that one of the murderous locations was the London Dungeon (when it was good) before they completely ruined it a few years ago. Don't expect deep characterisation here, empathy and understanding are alien concepts and would take up far too much film time. Not as good as 'Silent Night, Deadly Night' but an entertaining or so santa slaughterfest which on that basis alone justifies the films existence.
The copy I have is different to the one that Amazon appear to be selling, my ones running time appears to be a couple of minutes shorter than this one so presumably something is cut from the 'Film 2000' white boxed version I have. On that basis if buying get the advertised red cover one!

'80s slasher fans only familiar with the products of the more common American and Canadian films of the period are in for a real treat and a glimpse of life in jolly old England, circa Christmas time, in "Don't Open till Christmas." Yet St. Nick is not quite as jolly this year, as an unknown psycho apparently experiencing the seasonal doldrums is penchant on decking the halls with blood and dispatching any and all Father Christmas (or Santa Claus for North American readers) impersonators in London. None are safe from the wrath of this killer. It's up to a proper Scotland Yard detective (played by the film's director and veteran British actor, Edmund Purdom) to track him down before all such Clauses are butchered.

"Don't Open till Christmas" was released by Dick Randall and Steve Minasian's Spectacular International Films in December of 1984, and as a historical note, incidentally was playing at the very same time as another noted and highly controversial slasher from across the pond, "Silent Night, Deadly Night." To my knowledge though, there wasn't the same uproar from outraged mothers over "Don't Open till Christmas," as it is far more quaint and refined, much like the British themselves, than its said American cinematic equivalent.

That's not to say there is no sleaze to behold here -- this is a low budget slasher film, after all. Both Randall and Minasian were already well acquainted with the form. Randall had worked on such transcontinental early '80s bloodletters as "Pieces" and Minasian was actually one of the producers of the original "Friday the 13th" (1980).

Not surprising, as the opening sequence of "Don't Open till Christmas" features an unknown heavy breathing perpetrator stalking and ultimately dispatching a Santa Claus and his lovemaking partner in a dark alley that reminded me of the similar first kill in "Friday the 13th."

And yes, there is nudity as well. There is a (very) extended scene of a model being photographed completely in the nude by a sleazy photographer thrown in for good measure and while it wasn't unwelcome, I was far more smitten with a couple of the other British lasses here that remained fully clothed for the duration of the film, one being then 26-year-old Belinda Mayne, who had appeared in the previous year's "Krull" and would turn up for a time on long running British sci-fi series "Doctor Who" in the late '80s. She is very lovely here and quite good for the role she is playing, as the daughter of one of the slain Clauses. I adore her comely eyes, demure smile and as an American I find her refined British accent alluring.

The other is Kelly Baker, who would join Minasian and Randall's crew for 1985's follow-up classic "Slaughter High" and who also had to be in her early to mid 20s. She is actually featured more prominently here than in "Slaughter High," and I found her quite appealing as Experience Girl (i.e. peep show girl). Despite her occupation in this film, she exudes that same youthful innocence and purity that made her stand out so much as Nancy in "Slaughter High." I don't know what ever became of this actress beyond her mid '80s Spectacular heyday, but she has a real screen presence that makes these films endure with each passing year.

I also found the gore effects, handled by Peter Litton and his Coast to Coast Productions quite good (note that Litton would go on to co-direct the aforementioned "Slaughter High"). There is no shortage of blood here, and I found the spearing of a Claus at a Christmas party and another getting his eyeball skewered particularly effective.

I'm not saying it's a masterpiece, but for all the reasons mentioned here I really enjoyed "Don't Open till Christmas." Having never been to England, getting to see the reputed back alleys of London after midnight (complete with a band of anarcho gutter punks chasing a drunken Santa Claus) was fascinating. I also love the vintage cheesy '80s synthesizer music on the soundtrack. This along with the whole film really brings you back to that time and is an artifact of the very tail end of the original, early to mid-'80s slasher wave. All in all, very fun and schlocky stuff. (Note that I pen this review in the dead of summer in July, totally out of season, but who says you can't have Christmas in July? A movie like this is good all year round.)

Yes, nothing says Christmas like a series of gruesome Santa murders carried out in dark allies, peep show booths, and other sordid locations. Don't Open Till Christmas definitely isn't for the kiddies - unless, of course, your little angels hate Christmas and long to see a whole series of Santas (most of them drunks or perverts or both) slain in North Pole-cold blood. The film has most of the ingredients of a decent B-movie horror flick: blood, gore, and nudity - but it fails quite miserably. Don't go looking for a compelling plot because this film is a mess. With exploitation and skin flick veterans scattered here and there among the crew, a virtual revolving door into the director's office, and two years of re-shoots and re-edits, one could argue that Don't Open Till Christmas was cursed from the very start. Those who sit through the whole film may also feel as if they've been cursed themselves - by the god of bad movies.

Someone apparently got lumps of coal in their stockings every year of his childhood because no Santa in London is safe. A Santa can't even take in a private nudie show or answer the call of nature without getting slashed, strangled, speared through the head, or even castrated. New Scotland Yard is baffled and held increasingly to the fire with each daily killing. The closest thing they have to a suspect early on is the weird, lazy boyfriend of one rich victim's daughter (Belinda Mayne). This is the kind of guy who tries to trick his girl into doing a little spur-of-the-moment "modeling" with a tramp being photographed by one of his lecherous friends. The killer has more respect for women than this troll. Inspector Harris (Edmund Purdom) is on the case, but his underling Sergeant Powell (Mark Jones) gets a few ideas of his own during the investigation - thanks largely to an exceedingly strange "journalist" who turns up several times out of the blue. The film does succeed at raising a tad of suspicion among several characters as to who the killer really is, but that's pretty much all it succeeds at doing. I seriously hope no one actually wants to hear Carolina Munro perform a terrible disco number.

Don't Open Till Christmas has only two things going for it. One is the actual acting ability of Edmund Purdom. This guy's sort of the quintessentially unknown yet familiar British actor who brings decades of acting experience and a serious air to everything he does. The other is Kelly Baker, who plays the "Experience Girl" who witnesses one Santa slaying and finds herself in quite a sticky wicket with the killer toward the end. I'm just realizing that her stripper character never actually shed any of her clothes, but I really liked this actress for some reason.

His long career of acting experience notwithstanding, Edmund Purdom was no great shakes as a director. He apparently realized this himself, turning over the director's chair to script writer Derek Ford. Ford, a veteran director of sleazy sexploitation films, apparently raised the seedy factor of the whole movie but quickly bowed out as well, leaving editor (and former sex cinema owner) Ray Selfe to try and pick up the pieces and - with a number of re-shoots - actually cobble something resembling a movie out of the whole mess. That's why you have a seemingly important character like Dr. Bridle being mentioned in the script but never actually appearing in the movie.

Don't Open Till Christmas? My advice is to wait until Christmas, and then keep on waiting - forever. Some things are better left unopened and forgotten.