CHRISTMAS EVIL (1980, d. Lewis Jackson)
MERRY SCUMSMAS! Welcome to the very first installment of our 4-part Christmas series, in which we’ll be covering some truly twisted holiday flicks! Now, if you’re anything like me, you may find the Christmas season to be a difficult time of year. Sure, there are decorations and hot cocoa and all of your favorite animated TV specials return for their yearly viewings, but something about Christmas just feels…sad. Hollow. Disappointing. The opposite of Halloween, if I really had to put a finger on it. Maybe all the cheer only reinforces what a crappy year you’ve had. Or you find splurging on gifts to be a financial strain. But what I really think it all boils down to is a human problem. It’s hard to wish for peace on Earth and goodwill towards your fellow man when your fellow man seems dead set on making sure that Earth is anything but peaceful. Hell, it seems like most people don’t even care enough to put in the effort to simply just be nice. They’d rather just settle for naughty. Well, wouldn’t you know it, that very problem is addressed, albeit by a maniac in a dirty red costume, in our very first film, 1980’s Christmas Evil!
We open on Christmas Eve, 1947. Two little boys, Harry and Phil, and their mother sit on the staircase and watch as Santa Claus shoots down the chimney. Now, this is the first instance in which I was genuinely surprised and confused. Does this film exist in a universe where Santa Claus is real? I saw that motherfucker shoot down the chimney, don’t try to gaslight me on this one! Or, is this supposed to be viewed as just a childhood memory, laced with some magic realism? Don’t worry, we never quite get a straight answer. Anyway, Santa leaves a bunch of presents, hears one of the boys giggling, gives them a wink, and shoots back up the chimney (again, do NOT try and gaslight me here!) Then all of a sudden the boys and mom disappear, like that one shot in Blue Velvet after Frank Booth yells “I’ll fuck anything that moves!” Now Phil, the younger of the brothers, does not believe that that was the real Santa that they just saw. Harry, however, still believes that the big man exists, so he heads back downstairs for some unspecified reason, and what doe he see? It seems that Santa Claus has snuck back into the house, and Mommy is, um, doing a little bit more than kissing him underneath the mistletoe. In fact, Mommy is writhing in pleasure while Santa Claus says hi to the little man in the boat. Yikes! Harry, totally traumatized, runs upstairs to the attic, where he smashes a snow globe and slices his hand open with one of the shards of glass, spilling blood everywhere. And thus, the horror movie trope of Santa Claus as a lecherous old creep was born!
Now it is present day. Harry, despite the fact that he saw Chris Cringle feasting on his mom’s lady sandwich all those years ago, seems to be totally well-adjusted and normal. Well, there is the fact that he listens to Christmas music all year round. Oh, and his apartment is furnished with Christmas decorations even when it’s not Christmas. Right, and when he shaves in the morning he gives himself a shaving cream beard and goes Ho Ho Ho! into the bathroom mirror. Yup, totally well-adjusted and normal. Another hobby Harry has that is very healthy and not deeply disturbing at all is spying on the neighborhood kids from the roof of his apartment building via binoculars. Don’t worry, he’s only doing it so that he can record which of them have been naughty and which of them have been nice! And c’mon, it’s not like he’s whispering incredibly creepy things to himself while he watches them, like oh what a sweetheart and oh my dear little angel and…wait, no, never mind, he’s definitely whispering those things to himself. One boy takes out the trash, so he’s good. A girl is brushing her doll’s hair, which strikes me more as neutral but Harry seems very taken with it. However, this one little bastard named Moss Garcia is looking at the centerfold of a Penthouse magazine! Ooooh, does that ever burn Harry’s grits! How he hates Moss Garcia! In his book of naughty children, he notes that Moss “throws rocks at dogs, uses profane language, picks his nose, impure thoughts, negative body hygiene.” Ummm, hey, at least the guy is observant?
Would it surprise you to learn that Harry works at a toy factory? I didn’t think it would. Over at the Jolly Dreams toy factory, Harry is bummed out. On one hand, he’s been promoted to an office job, but he misses working on the factory line, because he cares about the quality of the toys. You know who doesn’t? The fat cats in corporate, that’s who! However, his former coworkers on the factory line aren’t much better, they’re portrayed as lazy and cynical. In fact, one such working stiff, a guy named Frank, basically bullies Harry into working his shift so that he can leave for vacation with his family early. Harry begrudgingly agrees, but when he’s walking home later that night, he passes by the local redneck bar, and who does he see? Why, it’s Frank! And he’s knocking back some brewskis and yukking it up with his roughneck buddies, laughing his head off about how he lied about leaving for vacation and shoved his shift off on that schmuck Harry! Harry handles this incredibly well, i.e. he runs home like an embarrassed child, then angrily hums “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” while crushing a doll in his bare hands. Could this be, I dunno, some sort of fancy pants foreshadowing? Well read on, college boy!
It’s Thanksgiving, and now we get to meet Harry’s younger brother Phil, who is played by one of my favorite character actors, Jeffrey DeMunn! This seems to be one of the first in a series of uptight assholes that DeMunn made a career out of bringing to irritated, deeply caucasian life, and for my money, few out there play an uptight asshole better than Jeffrey DeMunn. In the case of Phil, he’s always yelling at his kids to turn down the volume on the TV, and he seems to be offended by the very existence of his brother Harry. He thinks that Harry is a loser and an emotional cripple, which is kinda harsh. But at the same time, his wife makes up for this by going TOO easy on Harry, and is basically like, hey, Jeffrey DeMunn, when Harry comes over for Thanksgiving dinner, could you maybe not bring up the fact that he works in a factory and lives in a shitty poor part of town and is clearly mentally ill and possibly a pedophile? To which Jeffrey DeMunn is like, grumble grumble grumble I’m Jeffrey DeMunn! As it turns out, he needn’t have worried, because literally a minute after having this conversation, Harry phones up the house and is like, hey, it’s me Harry, I can’t make it to Thanksgiving this year, because I’ve got to take some nascent steps into full on Santa psychosis, ok byeeeee.
Harry goes about setting his plans into motion. The guy’s a bonafide craftsman; he’s sewing himself a Santa Claus suit, he’s in his basement like, smelting his own toys, he’s painting a sled on the side of his creeper-ass Econoline van, he even manages to smear some mud on his face and hands and terrorize that little shit Moss Garcia, ooooh he’s just the worst with his potty mouth and nudie mags! Anyway, now it’s time for the Jolly Dreams factory Christmas party! Everyone is getting super schwasted and dancing to a terrible disco version of “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” (does this now qualify as a motif?) when Harry is introduced to a new exec named Gordon. Gordon, it turns out, spearheaded a project wherein Jolly Dreams is going to donate a bunch of their surplus toys to a local children’s hospital. Harry is like, this plan seems really nebulous and non-specific, like, how many toys should we be setting aside, how many children are at this hospital, etc. And Gordon is just like, hey, I dunno, it’s just a publicity thing, who cares about those sick kids, it’s the me decade, babe! As you can probably imagine, this does not sit well with Harry. He storms out of the party, stealing a bunch of Jolly Dreams products on his way out the door, goes home, and immediately attaches a fake beard to his chin. He laughs and winces in the mirror, mumbling to himself, “it’s me!”
Now, I’m going to jump ahead a bit, usually I reserve final judgments for, well, the end of these pieces, but I’ve gotta say, I really enjoyed this movie, and part of what makes it hold together so well is the lead performance by Brandon Maggart as Harry. Maggart usually played supporting or cameo roles throughout his career, but here he truly gets to shine, totally revealing the wide range of Harry’s psychosis, and making you ultimately sympathize with him, even when he goes totally off the deep end and starts straight up murderizing people. Speaking of which…
Hey everyone, it’s Christmas Eve! But instead of St. Nick, it’s fuckin’ Harry Claus roaming the streets in his creeper-ass Econoline van. He breaks into Phil’s house and swaps out all of the presents for the kids with his homemade presents. He goes to the children’s hospital and almost gets shot by a hundred year old security guard, but then everyone is like look he brought presents what an awesome Santa Claus! He even gets in one final swipe at that rotten shitheel Moss Garcia by leaving him a giant sack full of dirt! Haha, take that you little pervert! Things kinda go off the rails a bit when Harry finds himself in front of this ridiculously gigantic church that looks straight outta Tim Burton’s Gotham City, and these three upper crust preppy assholes decide to poke fun of him for absolutely no reason. Sho what does Harry do? He pulls out a hatchet and butchers these people to death right there on the church steps in front of at least a hundred witnesses. Do any of them try to stop him? Nope!
So Harry is on the lam, and he finds himself at a very cheery Christmas party. All of the adults are super nice to him, and the kids are happy to see him, so he just plays along for awhile, and he’s in his element. He’s dancing the polka and giving the kids presents and knocking down shots that people are handing to him, they’re lovin’ this Papa Nöel, and apparently don’t notice the giant blood stains on his robes. When he decides it’s time to leave and go pay Frank and his family a visit, Harry Claus leaves the children with the following speech:
“Be good little girls and boys. Listen to your parents and do what they say. Obey your teachers and learn a whole lot. If you do this, I’ll make sure you get wonderful presents every year...But if you’re bad little girls and boys then your name goes into the bad little girls and boys book. And I’ll make sure you get something...horrible."
Shit, if that ain’t genuinely chilling, then your chill-o-meter may be broken.
Harry is really feeling his Santa Claus oats at this point, so he hilariously tries to actually go down the chimney, and nearly breaks his back. So he just breaks in through the back, the kids see him leaving some presents, and then Harry makes his way back to the master bedroom. Frank wakes up and is like, uhhh, Harry? What are you doing here, ya schmuck? And Harry starts to smother him with his bag full of toys! Whoa! Somehow this doesn’t wake up Frank’s wife, and Harry starts to get bored, so he grabs the star from a miniature Christmas tree next to the bed and fuckin’ SLASHES FRANK’S THROAT WITH IT! The wife wakes up and starts screaming, the kids watch as Harry Claus flees the premises. Ummm, Merry Christmas?
Christmas morning arrives, and Phil has an uneasy feeling. He just knows that Harry was somehow involved with these murders and break-ins last night. His wife, of course, is like, you’re being too hard on Harry, you’re totally blinded by your disappointment in him as a brother, you need to be nicer to him, to which of course he replies, grumble grumble grumble I’m Jeffrey DeMunn! Meanwhile, the cops are on the hunt for a murderous Santa, pulling in all sorts of drunken reprobates and mall goons for lineups. Harry, apparently realizing that the jig may be up soon, goes over to Jolly Dreams and destroys the rest of their toys. When he’s driving his creeper-ass Econoline van home, it gets stuck in a snowbank, and he finds himself on a gorgeous, picturesque suburban street lined with beautiful Christmas lights, and a bunch of kids are like, Yaaaay it’s Santa! He’s like oh, hey kids, here are the last of my presents from my murder satchel! The parents of these kids, meanwhile, realize that this guy must be the murderer, so one of them, this fuckin’ guy who’s dressed like a 1920s street tough for some reason, pulls out a switchblade and is like, the show’s over, Cringle! You make one move towards those tots and I’ll box your ears, seeeeee?! And Harry is like, you dumb asshole, you’ve forgotten the meaning of Christmas, children need an adult figure to look up to, who can teach them the difference between right and wrong, and the whole goddamn world seems to be in dereliction of that duty. Our 1920s street tough, of course, understands none of this, and despite protests from both the children and the fellow parents, who just wanna let the cops handle it, this guy lunges at Harry, and a minor brawl ensues, but Harry gets away.
Now, here’s where things start to get a bit…loopy. All of a sudden, these adults have formed a LYNCH MOB, and they’re chasing Harry down the streets while brandishing TORCHES AND PITCHFORKS! Where the hell did all of these Frankenstein-esque accessories come from?! So Harry hightails it to Phil’s house, where they finally duke it out once and for all. Phil is like, I always wanted a normal, strong older brother to look up to, and you let me down, and now you’re murdering people you sicko, to which Harry is like, you broke my heart by not believing in Santa Claus and I saw some crazy shit that you wouldn’t understand, to which Phil, quite understandably, is like, all of this shit is because of something I said when I was six years old?!?! THAT’S BULLSHIT, HARRY! GRUMBLE GRUMBLE GRUMBLE, I’M JEFFREY DEMUNN!!! And he fuckin’ chokes Harry out until he’s unconscious. He brings Harry’s lifeless body out to the van, at which point Harry wakes up and hilariously sucker punches Phil in the face, and goes speeding off. But oh balls, he’s surrounded! He’s got the angry mob coming from this direction, his angry brother coming from that direction, so what does he do? He drives his creeper-ass Econoline van off of a bridge. So that should be the end…but hark! What is that I spy? A dirty white van, and it’s starting to fly! In the light of the moon, all the townsfolk are stunned! They’re totally speechless, even Jeffrey DeMunn! “And I heard him exclaim as he rode out of sight, Merry Christmas to all! And to all a good night!” GODDAMN WHAT AN ENDING!
So yeah, I highly recommend Christmas Evil. Based on the title, I was expecting your typical high body count, gory slasher faire in the vein of the Silent Night, Deadly Night series, but instead I got something way more special: a dark character study about a vigilante loner who just so happens to be obsessed with Santa Claus. Like Travis Bickle but with a red stocking cap instead of a mohawk. And it helps that this is a genuinely well-made film too. The pacing is on point, the camerawork is full of really good tracking shots, and the soundtrack is buzzing with industrial Lynchian madness. It’s too bad that the director, Lewis Jackson, never made another film aside from this one. Still not convinced that Christmas Evil deserves to be a weirdo holiday classic? Well, here’s what no less an authority than John Goddamn Waters had to say about it, in his 1985 essay “Why I Love Christmas:”
“Forget White Christmas, It’s a Wonderful Life and all the other hackneyed trash,” Waters tells us. “Go for the classics: Silent Night, Bloody Night, Black Christmas or the best seasonal film of all time, Christmas Evil (“He’ll sleigh you”).
This true cinematic masterpiece only played theatrically for a few seconds, but it’s now available on videocassette and no holiday family get-together is complete without it…I wish I had kids. I’d make them watch it every year and if they didn’t like it, they’d be punished.”
Well that settles it, Scumbags! If this movie is good enough for the Prince of Puke, then it’s sure as heck good enough for me!












