Santa's Slay (2005)

Tagline: Spreading holiday fear this Christmas.

Curiosity: Nick Elmer promised me that professional wrestler Bill Golberg would star as Santa Claus, the murderous son of Satan.

Plot: After a murderous introduction, we learn that Santa (Golberg) loves to kill people regardless of their placement on the naughty/nice list. Meanwhile, teenage delicatessen employee Nicholas Yuleson (Douglas Smith) is trying to navigate the murky depths of romance with Mary (Emilie de Ravin, Lost, Roswell). They eventually bond over the Christmas spirit, or rather the lack of it. Nicholas lives with his grandfather (Robert Culp), and that guy hates Xmas to the max. Like, he wouldn’t even buy Nicholas an Optimus Prime action figure. What a humbugger!

But when Santa starts murderizing strippers, Nicholas realizes that maybe his grandpa wasn’t such a crazy Scrooge after all…

Thoughts: I’ll say it now. Santa’s Slay peaks with its ridiculous opening scene:

Yeah, that’s right; Goldberg just murdered Fran “The Nanny” Drescher and James Caan – mother-hugging Sonny from The Godfather! He survived Misery! Still, this opener is pure comic-horror greatness, and it’s kind of better than the rest of the movie, which gets bogged down in concepts like “plot” and “backstory.”

The film never quite recaptures its madcap magic from the first scene, but it does add some appreciated touches along the way. Santa’s reindeer turn out to be… a demon buffalo thingy? The fate of the world is nearly dictated by… curling? Santa’s origin can be explained by… a Rankin/Bass-style stop-motion animation involving curling?

The script is a bit weak, so it’s up to the cast to carry the material. Golberg is about as good in the title role as one could reasonably expect him to be. Dave Thomas (Strange Brew, SCTV) improbably shows up as an adulterous pastor. The other leads are… good enough OK dot dot dot question mark. Smith comes off as a dick, but that might be inherent in Nicholas’ character. I can’t believe Culp (the original I Spy) is here, but that goes for pretty much the whole cast. de Ravin is solid though, to the point that I’m willing to forget the major deus ex machina ending her character brings about. Still, though, whenever Santa kills people – even non-Christians – I chuckled a bit.

Reflection: Holy crap – according to scholarly source Wikipedia, Golberg met his future wife on the set of Santa’s Slay. Also, I still don’t know how to spell “delicatessen.”

Christmas on Mars (2008)

Tagline: A fantastical film freakout featuring The Flaming Lips.

Curiosity: Please see above.

Plot: Christmas time is approaching at an American base on Mars, but there is little reason to celebrate. First, the crewmember chosen to play Santa Claus for a Christmas pageant (Kenny Coyne) goes insane and commits suicide. Then, the device that generates oxygen for the base breaks. With the crewmembers’ sanity deteriorating and the birth of the first space baby from an artificial womb in jeopardy, Syrtis (Steven Drozd) can’t figure out how to pull everything together. Then he meets a pretty psychedelic alien (Wayne Coyne).

Thoughts: OK, wow. Strap in. You know how The Flaming Lips’ albums are bright, Technicolor showstoppers? Yeah, Christmas on Mars is the opposite. It has less in common with Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots than it does, say, Eraserhead. Actually, it’s a lot like Eraserhead, in that both films are slow, took way too much time to complete, were shot in grainy black and white, and are really, really quiet until something super fucked up happens:

Yeah, that’s a marching band with vaginas for heads. Not pictured is the part where they crush a baby’s head with their feet. Which reminds me, the crewmembers’ hallucinations are truly horrifying, because they dream of demon-vaginas ALL THE GOT-DAMN TIME. Sex-ed teachers could show this film in class and it would make abstinence seem like the only logical, not-pants-shittingly frightening option.

The film is awfully slow, which makes the scary parts that much scarier. The majority of scenes consist of a mumbley guy (usually Drozd) and a guy who curses all the time (pretty much everyone else except for Coyne and Fred Armisen, whose non-vaginality is welcome) talking about whatever the fuck, then some walking, and then something REALLY LOUD AND PSYCHEDELIC AND VAGINAL HAPPENS. Seriously, this movie has got vaginas for days. I think there’s a pro-Christmas moral in there somewhere too.

Reflection: Song titles from the soundtrack include “In Excelsior Vaginalistic” and “The Gleaming Armament of Marching Genitalia.” So, I guess I should have known what I was in for.

The Angel of Pennsylvania Avenue (1996)

Tagline: This is the first time I’ve been unable to find a tagline for a film. Damn you, cable movie studio RHI Entertainment and your refusal to “sell” your art!

Curiosity: When I was told that President Herbert Hoover (Thomas Peacocke) helps a trio of runaway kids save their father, I naturally assumed it would A) be set in modern times and therefore B) feature Hoover’s ghost in all manner of spoOoOoky Christmas fun. Like, Hoover has to earn his entry into heaven/make up for the Great Depression by helping these kids. It would be great! I was, sadly, wrong on both points. Forever.

Plot: Apparently, Detroit always sucked, as laid off family man Angus Feagan (Robert Urich) has to travel all the way to Kansas City to find work at a factory… just two weeks before Christmas, which I’m told is a very important day. Once he shows up for an interview, though, Angus finds out that the job posting he found was bogus. After a riot, he gets arrested for attacking a factory worker, even though he’s innocent. Back home in Michigan, Angus’ daughter, Bernice (Tegan Moss), freaks the fuck out and sets off for Washington, D.C. with her sister Lilly (Brittney Irvin) and brother asshole Jack (Alexander Pollock). Their mission: Use an emotional appeal to convince President Hoover to pardon their papa.

Thoughts: Setting aside my disappointment over the lack of Ghost-Hoover, The Angel of Pennsylvania Avenue is a mighty piss-poor film. First of all, most of the American characters are portrayed by Canadians! Is this how minorities feel when they watch Alfred Molina? It’s weird, man. Plus, Hoover – the supposed angel of Pennsylvania Ave. – is only in the film for like five, maybe 10 minutes. Furthermore, there are so many times these kids should’ve died. My gosh, how did they avoided having their organs harvested for the black market, I don’t know.

Ah, but here’s my biggest complaint: Jack. Fuck that kid. In the great tradition of asshole boys, Jack doesn’t really seem to care much about his father’s wellbeing. When Bernice and Lilly hatch their plan to save their dad, he nearly sells them out to their mother (Diana Scarwid) out of spite because they want him to stay home. They allow him to come along, but for a second there, he almost condemns his father to hell. HELL! Later, he forces his siblings to stop their frantic journey to save Angus so he can watch a puppet show. What a gosh dang asshole.

Also of note: As it turns out, The Angel of Pennsylvania Avenue is loosely based on a true story – Bernice Feagan was a real girl who really asked the real President Hoover to really pardon her real father. The only difference is that A) she wrote him a letter instead of running away from home, B) Hoover responded right away because he saw the pardon as a publicity stunt, which was greatly needed given that he might have helped ruin the country, C) her dad’s name was actually Charles, and D) he sorta kinda maybe was arrested for car theft. But whatever! It’s uplifting! Lift!

Reflection: I love Christmas films that only vaguely explain why I should care about Christmas, so in that regard, I guess The Angel of Pennsylvania Avenue is a success.

Jingle All the Way (1996)

Tagline: Two Dads, One Toy, No Prisoners.

Curiosity: It’s Arnold Brownschwagger and Sinbad in a movie about how kids make Christmas suck. It’s the kind of film that sums up everything I’ve ever felt.

Plot: Hardworking dad Howard (Schwarzenegger) can only find one way to get his shitty son Jamie (Jake Lloyd) to love him: through material possessions. Sadly, all of his attempts to build a stable home environment and college fund for his son are for naught, as the only thing Jamie craves is a Turboman doll. Love, security, education… these things hold no meaning to Jamie and his twisted plastic addiction. It’s not until Howard’s wife Liz (Rita Wilson) mentions that the toy will be neigh impossible to find this time of year that he realizes the hell he has entered.

The next morning – Christmas Eve – he embarks on a journey of epic Lord of the Rings proportions to find the got-damned toy. His enemies are many: Myron (Sinbad), a rival father also looking for the action figure; Officer Hummell (Robert Conrad), the malicious cop looking to abuse his authority over Howard; Ted (Phil Hartman), a neighborhood lothario out to seduce Liz; and Santa Claus (James Belushi), a mysterious man who may not be what he seems.

Thoughts: At a tight 85 minutes, Jingle All the Way never stops punishing Howard with one obstacle after another, building towards a series of twists that no one could possibly see coming. There’s just no gosh dang way. Yet he pushes, oh Lord how he pushes. That’s what gives Jingle All the Way its inspirational edge; Howard’s determination to get the job done. At the same time, though, this is one of the saddest Christmas movies I’ve ever seen. Forget The Christmas Shoes; Jingle All the Way is about one man’s insane devotion to his child, which is depressing because of how irredeemably terrible that child is. Jamie yell-whines at everyone and everything without the slightest provocation. He has a Captain America mural in his freaking room, a room that just so happens to be located in a nice house in a nice neighborhood. In a town riddled with single parents, his folks somehow make it work in spite of Howard’s stressful job. None of this matters to him. Jamie is a self-centered addict. One day he is going to harvest his mother’s organs for the black market, just so he can placate his Dragonzord fix. Unbelievable.

Reflection: I think I’ve stumbled upon a trend in Schwarzenegger films: The shitty kid. There are exceptions – Edward Furlong in T2: Judgment Day and the unborn fetus from Junior – but I think Kindergarten Cop has enough crappy tots to balance that out. I must conduct more research.

Gremlins (1984)

Tagline: What you see... isn’t always what you get.

Curiosity: I haven’t watched this film in like 15 years; I’d say it’s due for a revisiting.

Plot: Inventor Randall Peltzer (Hoyt Axton) is trying to hock some of his creations when he stumbles upon a mysterious creature called a mogwai (Howie Mandel). It’s cute, fluffy, and named Gizmo, and it would make a perfect Christmas gift for Peltzer’s son, Billy (Zach Galligan). After Gizmo’s owner, Mr. Wing (Keye Luke), refuses on the grounds that mogwai are too difficult to raise, his grandson (John Louie) sneaks the pet out and gives to Randall. There are three key rules for raising mogwai:

1. Don’t let it near bright light, especially direct sunlight.
2. Don’t let it touch water.
3. Don’t feed it after midnight.

When Billy botches these guidelines, there’s shenanigans a-doing.

Thoughts: I’m really surprised my parents let me watch Gremlins when I was a kid. While it was only rated PG, it’s awfully violent. Of course, given that it’s a horror-comedy from director Joe Dante (The Howling, Piranha), I guess I should’ve known. Still, there were so many scenes that I flat out did not remember: Mrs. Peltzer (Frances Lee McCain) brutally slaughtering three gremlins in a row. Phoebe Cates’ disturbing monologue about her dad. The presence of Corey Feldman. On a really uncomfortable note, I never picked up on the quasi-racist “Ancient Chinese secret” tone of the film’s opening scene before. The ’80s were a great time for making Western films that totally bullshitted Chinese culture (Helloooo Big Trouble in Little China).

Gosh dang do I love this movie, for the reasons above and more. The cast is great, and Gizmo looks awesome. He is legitimately adorable, and I would totally buy a mogwai if they A) were real and B) didn’t come with the three rules attached. I just know I’d fuck that up within 24 hours. Gremlins strikes me as yet another childhood favorite that could never be made today, in that no one would be able to handle the violence, dark humor, slapstick, and (potential) racism. Well, maybe Guillermo del Toro, but I’ve yet to see him handle comedy. He’d prolly CG Gizmo anyway. Boo-urns.

Reflection: Got-damn I love my mom and dad.

RIFFTRAX LIVE CHRISTMAS SHORTS-STRAVAGANZA!!

GET FUCKING STOKED ON IT!

Stick It (2006)

Tagline: It’s not called gym-nice-tics.

Curiosity: This one was my buddy Drew’s doing. Although, seriously, it’s a gymnastics film written/directed by Jessica Bendinger (Bring It On) and starring Jeff Bridges (Tron, Tron Legacy).

Plot: After getting arrested for the umpteenth time, rebellious extreme sports enthusiast Haley (Missy Peregrym) has two options – attend military school or a gymnastics academy run by Burt Vickerman (Bridges), who has a reputation for pushing his students to the point of injury. Her father forces her to go to the latter. There, Haley chafes the craw of everyone around her, from Vickerman (“No one cares what you do,” he tells her often) to fellow students like Joanne (Vanessa Lengies). Over time, though, her sassy brand of independence teaches her peers that gymnastics can be a sport about individuality instead of a forced routine meant to entertain the evil, baby-killing judges in this heartwarming tale of feminism or whatever.

Thoughts: While I generally hate the phrase, “guilty pleasure” sums up my appreciation for Stick It, as it liberally uses one of my biggest pet peeves, narration, to skip over character development. Everything we know about Haley’s family and gymnastics outside of Vickerman’s gym comes from narration. Speaking of Vickerman, we’re told that he’s a terrible coach with a knack for hurting his students, yet he never exhibits those qualities during the film’s 103 minute running time. The narration is lame.

And yet, when Electric Six comes on and the spinning, flying, psychedelic gymnastic visuals kick in, I don’t care. Let the record show that this is the first “bad” movie discussed here that my girlfriend actually liked. Oh sure, she spent the first hour or so trying to figure out why I was so absorbed in a film geared towards 13-year-old girls, but once the athleticism kicked in, she was astounded. More importantly, she was entertained by the way strong female characters subverted authority figures – BAM INSTANT FEMINIST MANIFESTO I WIN. This shit is uplifting, I’m a good person, the end forever.

Reflection: Seriously, who thought to include “Dancer Commander?” Fast-forward to 4:11: