or “Black (Pete) Christmas”
Featuring: Egbert “Bollywood Hero” Weeber , Bert “Drift” Luppes , Caro “Johan” Lenssen
Director & Writer: Dick “Killer Babes” Maas
Also Known As: Saint
“Congratulations. This is the sixth dildo of the year and it breaks last year’s record of five dildos.”
Well, it’s that time of year again. The chants of the cultists are being broadcast over radio stations the world over, the Tribute Trees are being raised in living rooms by the faithful and decorated with pendants bearing the likeness of Our Lord, ceremonial black candles made from the fat of heretics burn in the windows, fireplaces glow with the warmth of timbers torn from the desecrated prayer houses of the false idols, and the protective sigil wreaths hang from the front doors. Soon Cthulhu Claus will rise from his lair in the depths of R’lyeh to spread his shadow across the Earth, carried by the stars themselves, consuming the non-believers and rewarding the loyal thralls with the gift of another year of life to spend in servitude to His glory. Yes, it’s Cthulhumas time again children, and I’m in the mood to deck the halls with some festive nightmares!
Okay, I know that some of you (too many of you) don’t celebrate Cthulhumas and, whether for reasons of religion, consumerism, or just going along with the crowd, opt instead to do the whole Christmas thing. Unless you’re the “ignorance in bliss” type, you already know that your holiday of choice is an amalgamation of other cultures’ celebratory practices, designed for optimal appeal to potential converts and have little or nothing to do with any actual christian practices or beliefs. Jesus’s actual birthday was in the summer, the decoration of evergeen trees (as well as the use of mistletoe, holly, and wreaths) was swiped from Middle Eastern Pagans and originally DENOUNCED by christian leaders because of their heathenistic roots (no pun intended), and Santa Claus is just a pussyfoot knock-off of several gift giving myths, including “borrowing” heavily from the subject of today’s movie – Sinterklaas.
Based loosely on Odin of Norse Mythology (Anthony Hopkins in Thor), Sinter strides the rooftops of people’s houses on his white horse (which goes by many names), giving chocolate letters to kids, leaving money and gifts in the shoes of the poor, kidnapping juvenile delinquents, and relying on his minions the Black Petes to report back to him the good and bad deeds of the children throughout the year. Way before this could even be misconstrued as a racist thing, the Black Petes’ faces are smeared with soot (which… well… has become white people in black face… cuz… yeah… Europeans are racist) because they hang out in everybody’s chimneys so they can eavesdrop. Instead of Christmas, Sinterklaas’s holiday is Sinterklaasfeest, which celebrates the acts of Saint Nicholas, the patron saint of children and/or sailors, on December 6th.… so I REALLY should’ve done this review a friggin’ week earlier… damn it. Well, this adaptation of the adoption of Sinter added a steamboat to his repertoire, which is what the myths attributed to his ability to reach people in the Netherlands. Anyway, that’s all you really need to know for the sake of this review. You can learn more about Sinterklaas at your local library, cuz knowledge is power! Or, if you’re a lazy fuck like me and can’t read anything that isn’t backlit by a screen, just check out the following wiki page – http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sinterklaas
In case you weren’t aware of the kind of site you’re reading, this isn’t going to be a pleasant stop motion Christmas family event a la Santa Claus is Coming to Town, or a “grunting coke head with a heart of gold (and a prison record) saves Christmas” bout of spiritual indigestion like The Santa Clause. And even though my inner child has a soft spot (and a bloodlust) for yuletide terrorizers about serial killers decked out in the ol’ red, white, and beard, we’re doing something different today. While the seasonal slashers are the way we like to do things in the US, Netherlander Dick Maas has something else in mind. Come along with us, won’t you?
In Maas’s merry holiday horror show, St. Nicholas wasn’t a present presenting philanthropist of chocolate alphabets and shoe stuffed playthings. Instead he was the patron satin of pirates and pillage, crewing a cadre of cutthroat corsairs who terrorized terrified townsfolk, murdering and marauding monthly in demand of tribute (tithe?) under the light of the full moon. Well, in 1492 (when Columbus sailed the ocean blue) one village had all they could stand and couldn’t stands no more. Fueled with a fresh can of spinach inhaled through their corncob pipes (by which I mean mob rage boiling over in their hate guts), they trailed the abominable bishop and his remorseless raiders (who are a looooooong way from LA… sorry, I mean Oakland) back to their big black death ship and burned the motherfucker down, along with the sinister swashbucklers still in it. I only wish people these days were more proactive with their violent rebuttals. Those west baptist dick snots would’ve had their flesh melted off of them in napalm baths years ago and world peace would’ve been a reality by now. Napalm: the solution to all of life’s biggest problems! This review is brought to you by a generous grant from Napalm Co., where we turn women and children into the Incredible Melting Man. They’re incredi-meltable! 😀
“Thanks Napalm Co.!”
Apparently St. Nick wasn’t just an asshole in a big hat and cape though, because his execution by barbecue may have been a temporary solution to the monthly murder visits (also what Isis refers to her period as, coincidentally enough), but it also brings about a curse – on every December 5th (St. Nicholas Eve), when there’s a full moon (approximately ever 32 years), the ebb and flow of annual holiday celebrations turn to an ebony flow of Black Petes, who release a crimson flow from the circulatory systems of their victims. Yes, the twisted visage of the true St. Nick returns to murder the merriment of the holiday that bears his namesake by kidnapping scads of rugrats and killing anyone with the misfortune of crossing the path of he and his zombie pirate horde of horrific helpers. Their faces aren’t smeared with soot though, they’re fried like Cajun chicken skin. Damn, now I’m getting hungry. Think I’ll go to Long John Silver’s for lunch and see if I can find any pirates’ faces to chew off.
As you can guess, Saint Nick is about such an event… uhm, the full moon holiday thing, not eating a pirate’s face as an alternative to microwaved fish tacos… huh huh, “fish taco”. December 5th has arrived, the moon hangs full in the sky like a fat guy at the all-you-can-eat lard buffet, and only two people stand between the Ghost of Holiday Holocaust and an Amsterdam full of festively decapitated citizens – high school student Frank (Egbert Weeber) and police detective Kurt Hoestra (Burt Luppes). Frank is your average slasher flick hero, whose mom suffers from a crippling condition that requires expensive surgery to fix, and whose girlfriend just broke up with him in front of their entire Physics class (whose Secret Saint Nicks apparently all work at the Dildo Emporium) for cheating on her with his new heart throb Lisa (Caro Lenssen). He also plays the titular icon during the annual St. Nicholas Eve holiday beer bash… if I and Rony had a baby together, we’d name it Irony.
As for Hoestra, his parents were slaughtered like holiday hams and his siblings snatched away like… things that are… frequently stolen… during the demon bishop’s last workday in 1968. He has an unhealthy obsession with the “myth” of the savage saint as a result, which is funny since these holiday slaughters ARE recorded every 32 years and NOBODY else seems to make the connection due to an apparent government cover up. Sounds like a job for Mulder and Scully, in “The X-Files Christmas Reunion Special”! Anyway, Hoestra’s commissioner forces him to take an extended leave for the month lest his mania adversely affect the rest of the department. Or, in case he just goes postal and guns down every person he sees in black face… which, to be fair, is an acceptable response to meeting anyone who actually wears black face… unless Kurt’s just one of those LAPD types and would use it as an excuse to Rodney King ACTUAL black people… Now THAT would be an interesting excuse to hear from a hate crimer.
As with any slasher movie hero, Frank must play the pariah when his newly self-exed girlfriend shows up dead in her chimney and he’s the prime suspect. It doesn’t help his innocence when the cops arrest him, finding a severed arm hanging from his bumper and ranting about his buddies having just been dismembered by a mob of Black Petes while a guy dressed like Saint Nick astride a zombie steed watched… When the police car he’s being transported in gets an APB about a crazy man riding a horse over the rooftops, the resulting chase is a perfect opportunity for Detective Hoestra to liberate Frank and recruit him to help in their now-two-man crusade to bring the curse of Saint Nick to an explosive finale… with explosives… lots and lots of explosives.
Unfortunately, I can’t speak for the talents of the actors involved here, as the only copy I could get my hands on was a dub whose voice cast sounds like the same three people. Moving on, Saint Nick is another regrettable case of a movie whose budget can’t quite keep up with its creator’s ideas. There are momentary computer effects that nut/tit slap your immersion in the movie, despite the necessity of not having an actual guy riding an actual horse on actual rooftops. Also, I won’t ruin the big finish for anybody, but having your big explosive ending conveniently obscured entirely by heavy fog is… what’s a bigger word for “disappointment”? Hmmmm, what was it my teachers all called me at my class reunion? Oh yeah, “tremendous disappointment”. Speaking of lackluster, the movie takes a dip in enjoyment for the last half hour or so, when it shifts away from Nick’s bloody rampage and puts too much focus on Frank and Kurt. Between the over-explaining of the detective’s motivations, and the hurdles they’re presented with on their way to enacting their plan, things don’t just slow down, they slow down in that way where you add a bunch of extra ‘o’s to the words: sloooooooooow doooooooooooown. The less-than thrilling cinematography and dynamicity (I love making up words) deficient score don’t help matters.
At its heart, Saint Nick is like a Dick Maas xmas card to Freddy Krueger and Jason Voorhees movies. From the persecuted hero to the maimed undead urban ledeng antagonist killing teens to the secondary character with a vendetta to enact against said ghoul to the government cover ups (albeit on a much larger scale here), even wrapping up with an epilog partially reminiscent of the final 5 minutes of Friday the 13th: A New Beginning. I take this more as an homage than a plagiarism though, so no harm no foul, Mr. Maas. I enjoy that we’re getting something more than just another asylum escapee donning his gay apparel and knifing naughty parents and perverts, not that there’s anything wrong with that! I enjoy that we’re getting something that doesn’t just perverse the icon of its holiday, but also the religion behind it. Also, glad to see something other than American Christmas as a basis for some horror. It’s a cultural learning experience! It’s just too bad the movie pulls a Switzerland and rides the fence between moderately serious slasher and balls out psycho splatter circus. Dedicate yourself to a side and stick with it next time, Mr. Maas. Thanks for giving me something new to add to my annual holiday horror-thons though! May Cthulhu spare you for another year. Fa la la la la, Fhtang Fhtang.
While we’re on the topic of movies made around holiday traditions unknown to most beyond we morbid curiosity seekers, where the fuck is my Krampus movie?! Wait… there IS a Krampus movie?! And it’s right here!? Well fuck. I know what a certain Death God is getting himself for Cthulhumas this year! You know, to go along with that righteous Bad Religion shirt with the lesbian nuns. Merry Cthulhumas indeed.
The Moral of the Story: Children shouldn’t be rewarded for good behavior. I find that threatening them with abduction by nefarious religious figures to be a much better motivator in making them mind their shit!
That’s exactly how Fangoria reacted to my first review submission.
Looks like that dude’s got… wait for it… A SPLITTING HEADACHE!
“This is my fiance Brad. We’ve been together for 4 years and we’re getting married in June.”
Hey, you sitting down. Donal Logue Jr. Yeah, unless you’re just the messiest chocolate eater ever, stop. Just stop.
Those Cyber Monday deals like to lure you in with stuff like free shipping, but in the end you wind up losing an arm… and a leg… now cut off your leg… sorry. I’ll stop now.
“I’m here for the Tor Johnson look-a-like contest.”
“No, I have no idea who skinned the cheetah at the city zoo. What are you implying?!”
“You silly corpse, life preservers are for people with life to preserve. Give me that.”
They’ve stumbled upon the shooting for Night of the Seagulls 2. Fuck.
Resident Evil’s Nemesis retired from Umbrella and followed his true calling by joining the Catholic Church.
Anubis will return next time in
“Santa Claus is Coming to KILL!”
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