Bad Movie Review 19 - Santa Claws

John Russo, the man responsible for the horror classisc, Night Of The Living Dead, brings us another twisted and terrifying tale of terror. One that was unnoticed by theatergoers and video rentalists (is that a word?) everywhere. One with an intriguing story and good gore effects. One that had you repulsed yet riveted to the screen. Unfortunately, that film was Midnight, and not Santa Claws.

Santa Claws is a cheapo quick cash-in on gore and tits that tries to be hip but misses by a mile. The film centers around scream queen Debbie Rochon, playing a b-movie scream queen (what a stretch!) named Raven whose marriage is collapsing. Her philandering husband Eric wants a divorce, her mother and sister constantly remind her that she shouldn't have married the bum, and her two children (yeah, right!) are getting suspicious. The only one she consoles in is her demented next door neighboor and best friend Wayne, who turns out to be a psychopath obsessed with her. He rents all of her movies, buys a blow up doll in her likeness, and has even built a shrine of her in his bedroom. It turns out that when he was a child, Wayne witnessed his good looking mother having sex with some big fat ugly guy called Uncle Joe, and blew them both away with a gun. Pretty soon, the guy dons a Santa Claus suit, complete with black stocking over his face, and goes on a rampage faster than the Miami Dolphins could lose a football game. He kills some people at her work (Scream Studios, go figure) with a garden trowel. He kills some of her co workers (after they get to show off their fleshy talents, of course). He eventually goes after Raven and Eric, a chase ensues, blah blah blah. The killer dies, Raven and hubby get back together.

Shot on what appears to be home video, cinematogropher Bill Hinzman (who was the first zombie seen in the graveyard of the original Night Of The Living Dead) seems like he has Parkinson's Disease, the camera is so shaky, I thought I was watching Earthquake 2.

As soon as you pop in the tape, there was no leeway in the beginning. The film starts abruptly. There's no FBI Warning, no coming attractions, no blank space before the film. It just starts! It's almost as if the film is starting without you. As if the video player can't wait to get this tape out of itself, and not without good reason.

When Wayne dons the Santa outfit and black mask, he talks. This is wrong in so many ways. Sometimes, you can hear obvious overdubbing saying things like, "I'm Santa Claws!". Sometimes, all you hear is, "Mmmfff, mmmmmph!".

There is a funny scene involving Wayne, who is supposed to be babysitting Raven's kids. He actually drugs their hot cocoa and cookies and they pass out in valium-slumber. The roles of the kids themselves must have been acting as a favor. Yeah, they're cute and all, but they just can't help themselves from mouthing the other's lines throughout the film. It gets very annoying after a bit, so I was happy to see them get slipped a mickey.

The only redeeming thing I can say about this turd is that Debbie Rochon actually bares her breasts in it. I am buying the film for that reason alone.

Big Cheese Award goes to John Russo, for attempting to get back into the horror genre again, despite failing miserably.

Big Cheese Award goes to Debbie Rochon, for taking any job she is offered.

Big Cheese Award goes to the producers of this garbage, proving that anyone with a video camera can get into Hollywood Video.

I give this cantankerous combo of Kris Kringle kibble 3 1/2 cheeses.