source: horror.land
Holy boobs, there are a ton of boobs in this movie. Every excuse there is to have boobs on screen, no matter how flimsy, there they go! I’d say there’s probably one instance in which boobs are bouncing in a consensual way; the rest of the time it’s pretty much Game of Thrones.
Let’s start with the opening. Little kid (who gives a fuck about his name) watches his parents get murdered by a drunk Santa (not THE Santa) on Christmas Eve. Killer actually attempts to rape kid’s mum by ripping open her blouse (guess mum doesn’t wear a bra) before cutting her throat in some spectacularly bad stage fighting. Looks like dude just drew a red line on a neck using a fucking cake icing piping bag.
Anyway, kid is naturally PTSD-ridden, which is helped by his upbringing in a suffocating orphanage that fulfils the classic Catholic stereotype of “punish, punish, punish”. Which, funnily enough, ends up being Grown-up-kid’s (Guk) catchphrase once he flips a switch and decides to start murderizing.
Said switch is flipped when he’s at a Christmas gathering at the toy store he works at. He witnesses his coworker crush get full-on sexually assaulted by a douchebag coworker, and, much like that fateful night with his mum, watches transfixed until bouncing coworker boob flashes back to bouncing mum boob and then BOOM: KILLER ACTIVATED.
Luckily the Guk is dressed as Santa, which makes it all the better when he Caveman-grunts ‘PUNISH.’ whenever he axes or knifes someone. Sadly the store only has two other people left as fodder, so the rest of the movie follows his surprisingly large-radius rampage of complete strangers so we can get more screen time of Santa offing people with boobs.
There’s a point at which the boob thing gets ridiculous. One girl is making out with her dude and, when realising she’s got to let the cat back in, pulls up Daisy Duke shorts over her pants (which cover nothing) and then goes out into the driveway completely topless. What’s the fucking point? Just be naked!
It’s not quite video-nasty-gory, but it does seem to drag on, and the lead actor isn’t terribly convincing as a psycho killer. He looks a bit too much like if you took Michael Pitt’s eyes and placed them in Jonathan Taylor Thomas’s head. It’s cheesy, but it still ranks as some great holiday horror viewing. Maybe not quite with Home Alone/Love Actually crowd, but you can probably make a strip poker drinking game about the boobs. Because boobs. Merry Boobmas!
An Englishwoman in Salem 