DON'T OPEN TILL CHRISTMAS (1984)
Horror hounds neglect to mention this remedial slasher when listing off Christmas-themed titles, which I should have seen as a stern warning. Perhaps I deserved this movie. Oh, I'm being melodramatic, but it's actually not too dusty. Don't feels like a British interpretation of a giallo, right down to its whodunit angle and its black-gloved killer. Director Edward Purdom also nails the sleazy, disreputable atmosphere that smacks of second-tier Argento. As for the holiday-pitched plot, an unseen screwjob is bumping off a wide variety of men dressed as Santa Claus in urban London. On second thought, the victims aren't exactly diversified. Most of them are whiskey-whiffed cretins looking to wallow in the mire, so to speak.
What I'm trying to say is that prostitutes are involved. Aren't they always? Sometimes, the prostitutes are cute and spunky, as in the case of Sherry (Kelly Baker credited as an "experience girl"). She's the only character that I could tolerate, so of course, we don't meet her until the halfway point. Everyone else is either an insipid detective or a flavorless suspect. On the upside, the kills are prohibitively nasty. If I didn't know any better, I'd wager that the gruesome effects shots were concocted by Tom Savini. Don't Open Till Christmas gets a passing grade, though it doesn't aim very high. And what's with the goofy ending? I'm tempted to spoil it, but mere words wouldn't do it justice. Ho-humbug.
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