What a bright time, it's fright time
Someone’s killing all the Santas in town. This is a slasher flick and the killer is quite prolific. We’re in the middle of the 1980’s and, yes, this means we’re going to see boobs. Lots of them. These VHS must sell and we’re going to exploit the hell out of Christmas. Peep show boots don’t close their doors on Christmas Eve, in case you wondered, so here’s more boobs!
To support all this killing and gratuitous nudity is, at the core, a police procedural by a miserable man who doesn’t look like a detective shuffling documents in an office that doesn’t look at all the way we picture the inside of Scotland Yard, and who’s way too hard on his witness, considering he’s not even trying that hard to tail the serial killer.
It’s easy to pick on this ridiculous movie, but it’s hard to hate it. It’s very entertaining, in fact. It is gory, campy and lively. The murders are assorted, the victims are mostly dressed in red and white, and the killer wears a mask… because we’re in 1984. If you can’t guess his or her identity by the third act, it means you aren’t even trying.