Horror is the most undoubtable mirror that fictional entertainment has ever seen- I’ll stand on that. It’s known for giving a broad snapshot of what our greatest fears might’ve been at any given time. From climate change to the social and systemic issues in between- it all comes out through fictional stories of horror. 

Women across the United States are teetering on the line of a life-threatening regression. Repetition is something that history will always whip around, but when creative minds grab on, we can use their memorialized messages to paint a bigger picture for further education. For the fandom, the time is ripe to look for scholars at the intersection of activism and genre history to guide us through. Take Chris Love, for example; reproductive justice advocate, Arizona lawyer, and “repro horror” scholar.

“We’re so used to seeing abortion being treated as difficult or heart-wrenching. Black Christmas stands out because Jess was so clear and unbothered about her decision to choose herself and her future. That’s how it should be and frankly, how it actually is most of the time”

Bob Clark’s holiday massacre of 74’ is invaluable to horror history. On the side of the genre, it’s the most responsible for our treasured ‘slasher’ sub-genre while pumping the gas on true fears of home and personal invasion. On the side of U.S. history, the film was released only one year after the ruling of Roe V. Wade.

The film opens with Jess Bradford (Olivia Hussey) confronting her boyfriend Peter (Keir Dullea) with the news of her pregnancy, and her plans to have an abortion in light of her career. Let me remind you again, it’s 1974, and even on a 2024 rewatch, no viewer should be surprised when Jess is met with a gaslighting attack. Peter’s attempts were dismissed, but the message and accompanying rage couldn’t be more relevant. Every line of weaponized dialogue from Peter’s mouth is written so well that it’s impossible to ignore even 50 years later.

It’s here, before the fantasy fear kicks in where fans and genre scholars alike can recognize a crossing of an ethical line- a single decision that could greatly impact a woman’s life, career, and comfort. The great thing is women today are more likely to be like Jess, and challenge ideas of patriarchy for their right to decide. Opening our greater horror story with an additional personal one makes Jess’s fight relatable, and even more important- for her survival, and the shot at life she has a right to. Queue the telephone.

I could go on forever about the film’s first act, but the conflict driving Black Christmas is the creep on the other end of those perverted phone calls. Even though this is a separate issue from Jess’s plan for her body, my recent rewatch opened my eyes to the idea that these two conflicts are two sides of the same coin. I’m a woman, and a citizen of the United States. Now that I’ve lost some of my confidence in the protection of reproductive rights, I’ve digested this whole scenario in a different, more infuriating light.

Through the calls, the killer causes panic, and threatens the security of the sorority sisters inside. His remarks are disturbing and sex-obsessed, and the girls react with fear and disgust like any person would. Imagine making all the right decisions to ensure a future of comfort and success, just to have your right to it stripped under the guise of gross misogynistic mental gymnastics. That’s how I feel right now, and I almost can’t believe how smudge-free the mirror is.

In the film’s opening, we witness what an intimate conflict over women’s reproductive rights might look like. Most of the horror community has given the scene their highest praise, but my damage this month was experiencing that those themes don’t actually stop once the calls start. Those themes end up getting stronger by switching from seeing the problem with patriarchal power, to understanding what it feels like to exist trapped underneath it.

History is repeating itself again, and the deja-vu in Black Christmas is tough enough to hand out complimentary whiplash. It’s still disturbing, but as consumers of horror, we know how to trust the final girl. Through just about any period commentary you can find in horror, there’s a final girl who’s survived it- maybe two or three. The truth in that statement holds the most weight at a time like this, though. Cheers to Jess Bradford, and everyone she represents.

My entryway to the Black Christmas universe was accidentally watching the 2006 film at an Alamo Drafthouse. My friend and I thought it was the original and wanted to finally see the classic. In our haste, we did not investigate which movie the chain had pulled from the vaults. So, a few years later, when I saw a new Black Christmas in theaters, I asked more questions. I went into the 2019 film knowing it was not the original and with the expectation that it had to be better than the version I had previously seen. I got a wildly confusing take on feminism and a giant red flag planted in the Blumhouse Productions column instead. 

The film has an engaging opening that utilizes the winter Christmas atmosphere while giving us a fun enough first kill. There is some cool cinematography (Mark Schwartzbard) and direction (Sophia Takal) on display that make you want to root for this entry so much. There are also glimmers of a movie that understands how ahead of its time the original Black Christmas was and seemingly wants to ride that feminist wave. Sadly, the road to hell is paved with good intentions, and this movie takes the express bus to Satan’s doorstep.

Black Christmas (2019) follows a group of sorority sisters stalked during their Christmas break. They soon discover the cloaked figures slashing their way through sorority girls are part of an underground college conspiracy to “put women back in their place.” This all comes out in a messy third-act battle where it sounds like dialogue was pulled directly from Joe Rogan’s podcast. There is a lot of black goo coming out of the misogynists as Professor Gelson (Cary Elwes) gives the monologue that tries to explain what is happening. I am firmly in the camp of “Yes, all men” and am usually an easy person to win over when a movie wants to talk about toxic masculinity. Yet, this movie had so many problems and fell into what often feels like Blumhouse projects following a checklist that I could not get on board. Especially because long before men try to destroy the squad, we find out the calls are coming from inside the house. 

We watch Riley (Imogen Poots) as she is constantly bombarded by her supposed friends who remind her she was sexually assaulted. They follow her to her job and throw it in her face if she hesitates to sign a petition. They have choreographed a Mean Girlsesque Christmas number where they sing about it to supposedly clap back at her rapist. The plan is to perform it in the frat house where Riley was assaulted. When one of the members of this weird choir has to step out, Riley is bullied into performing it by again reminding her she was attacked. On stage, when Riley locks eyes with the guy who assaulted her and freezes. Her bestie whispers, “Rebuild yourself, bitch” before they start the misguided jingle in earnest. When they started singing about “S-E-X” before describing something that was, in fact, rape, it felt like the culmination of this remake’s problems.

While I have no doubt Black Christmas (2019) started with great intentions, its impact undoes all that goodwill. It seems like a muddled brand of feminism wrapped around a bunch of tweets from people who learned about gender studies from broadcast TV. I know many people might have the impulse to write this off and blame the PG-13 rating. However, I am not sure we should be arming tweens with the idea that throwing your friend’s trauma in their face hourly is friendship or feminism. We see Riley have nightmares about this attack that happened three years ago. We know she’s still in the same school with her rapist, and their Greek societies seemingly still host shindigs they both attend. So, seeing how shitty her support system is while yelling about their sisterhood and talking about how they’re all an extension of each other seems hollow.

I questioned Riley’s squad the whole movie, so Helena’s (Madeleine Adams) reveal that she was working for the man was not a gag. If anything, it was refreshing to see at least one of the girls was aware that she was a bad feminist. This twist might have worked if we had not spent the entire run time watching Riley’s best friends treat her like a prop instead of a person. Or, maybe if the male characters had not said all the quiet parts aloud the whole movie. The lack of subtlety and nuance worked against this story. It wore everything on its sleeve, and while on paper, I agree with the sentiments…the result is a confusingly awful time.

I have watched this film three times in my life. Each viewing, I try to figure out who this movie is for. Is it for audiences who are just learning that women are real people? Or is it for execs wanting to make a quick buck off the #MeToo movement without actually doing the work? Each time, I wonder what the original script looked like because I cannot imagine this is the finished product anyone involved wanted. Black Christmas (2019) opens with so much promise but immediately gets in its own way. What seemed like an attempted indictment of rape culture led to confusion and resentment for me as an audience member. Whatever the original goal is gets buried in black goo at the modernized version of the He-Man Woman-Haters Club.