On today’s big podcast – podcast.nationalgeographic.com/ng-news – I try my hand at interviews for the very first time ever.
I sat down and talked with Marta Gomez, a Colombian musician living here in the States and making some seriously chill music with some seriously diverse influences.
Come listen to me make a fool of myself.
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So I watched the original “Black Christmas”. I say ‘original’ because the re-imagining-make will be upon us this very holiday season, 32 years after the original was released. I think remakes can be a valuable thing for an audience, as was proven by “The Amityville Horror” remake. Some movies can take a wasted opportunity and make it slightly less wasted.
Then there are movies like “The Birds” that don’t need to be remade because the opportunity was fully exploited.
Then there are movies like “The Texas Chainsaw Massacre”, that don’t need to be remade, but are, and aren’t half bad.
And now there’s a movie like “Black Christmas”, which begs for a remake, but should NEVER be remade. There are plenty of folks on the interweb that are crying out against the “Christmas” remake, saying that the first one was a masterpiece, etc., etc. Granted, the original invented a whole lot of cool stuff. Even though it doesn’t hold a candle to “Halloween”, it came up with moves that John Carpenter’s flick copped like a 2nd rate Disco Dan.
But here’s the thing: the original is pretty terrible. It begs for a remake because it’s one of those movies that has a great foundation but a mostly terrible execution. Conversely, it should NEVER be remade, because it is one of the few movies of the horror genre that is so much of its time that moving it to another decade completely negates all the things that were good about the original.
But first let’s talk about why it’s terrible.
The acting is horrrrrrrendous. Olivia Hussey, our hero, fluctuates between barely registering a pulse or going into outright hysterics at the drop of a hat (or, more to the point, at the ring of a phone). Margot Kidder, looking like the oldest sorority girl ever, is supposed to be the loveably brash drunk, and, hey, she TOTALLY NAILS brash. Most of the rest of the cast fade into the background. The only actors that keep you hanging around are Andrea Martin and John Saxon. Oh, alright, Art Hindle, too. Everybody likes Art Hindle. But it makes you wonder: if you have John Saxon, Art Hindle and Andrea Martin on board, why give Kidder and Hussey so much screen time? Had the movie been about Andrea Martin’s Phyl, that would’ve made the movie 25% better right there.
Then there’s the first person POV of the killer, which at the time probably blew people’s minds (or at least the minds of people who had never seen Bogart’s “Dark Passage”. Course, who the hell has ever seen “Dark Passage”?), but now seems to just slow things down. We know where the killer is and what he’s up to, we know where his victims are hanging out. There’s not a whole lot of suspense. Most of the time, we’re just waiting for these mixed up kids to get together.
When they do and the killin’ starts, it gets good… for a second. But then there are numerous cuts to that first person POV of the killer with the first victim. And we see that first victim so much that all of the movie’s creepy power is soon lost. It’s actually a really great image, but it’s so overplayed that it becomes comforting.
And finally, the ending – which is just ambiguous enough to be dissatisfying. It was so close to being wrapped up, but then it’s as if the movie ends before it’s over. Which may have been the studio’s idea. I know they wanted these types of movies to be franchises. But then… this is before Star Wars or Halloween, etc. Who was thinking of sequels?
Now, on to the good stuff.
First and foremost, it’s a low budget affair, so the picture is a little murky, the camera work is a little clumsy and the sound is a little bit phony. Because of its small budget, it gains something that big budget horror films lose instantly – that feeling of spontaneity. The idea that anything can happen and very well might. Not because it’s surreal or because the story is brilliantly unpredictable, but because there’s a sense that the filmmakers may not totally know what they’re doing and if that’s true, then maybe they don’t know that they’re supposed to stick to the conventions.
Then there’s the shot of the eye. You know the one I mean. It works, buddy. It works like the gangbusters. It rearranges your brain for a good second or two. No half-assed horror movie pulls off a moment like that.
And finally, there’s the fantastic (if overlong) sequence involving the tracing of a series of phone calls, a sequence that simply cannot be done the same way today, which is a shame. Honestly, my involvement in the movie spiked at this point and thinking about the remake – how could they possibly make it this interesting? Answer: they can’t. There’s just. no. way.
If for no other reason, this is why “Black Christmas” should not be remade.
Hmmmm. And so… where’s the lesson in all this? Well, Spanky, that’s exactly what I’m tryin’ to figure out.
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Kevin Smith is making a slasher movie, no doubt replete with references to 80s pop culture and a healthy dose of gore and boobies. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry, but I’m choosing to laugh. His aesthetic may be just right for this.
And, before you naysayers start naysaying, let me point out that he is not doing a remake. That should count for something.
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