MRS. CLAUS (2018)

 

(aka STIRRING. Director/screenwriter: Troy Escamilla)

 

Review

A Delta Sigma Sigma pledge sister, Angela Werner (Mel Heflin), is cruelly hazed by a sorority president, Amber (Kaylee Williams), and her clique. Shortly after that, the humiliated pledge kills the cruel sorority President and hangs herself.

A decade later, Amber’s sweet-natured sister (Danielle, played by Hailey Strader) is joining the same sorority, when the sorority sisters receive threatening Xmas-themed poems about “sluts.” People get systemically killed (garroted, stabbed, a large candy cane shoved down a guy’s throat, etc.) by someone dressed up like Mrs. Claus, complete with a mask.

It all comes down to a battle between Danielle (with some help) and the vicious Mrs. Claus. There’s a character-based twist (not entirely shocking but worthwhile). Its almost-solid finish is ruined by spot-it-from-a-mile-away sequel-friendly ending.

The good: Scream Queen Brinke Stevens (THE SLUMBER PARTY MASSACRE, 1982) is fun as Officer Julie Cornell, as is Helene Uddy (MY BLOODY VALENTINE, 1981; and THE DEAD ZONE, 1983) as Mrs. Werner. Kaylee Williams is also convincing as cruel Delta Sigma Sigma president Amber. The kill scenes are varied, effective (considering its micro-budget), gory and creative—credit their convincing bloodiness to makeup/special effects artist Heather Benson, who’s gone on to work on A-list films like KILLERS OF THE FLOWER MOON (2023). Mark D’Errico’s soundtrack is effective in many of its key scenes (e.g., a slow piano song with eerie female vocals).

Ultimately, CLAUS is a typical low budget slasher film with too much lag time between plot points, some seriously bad acting, and a too-strict adherence to horror clichés─despite its drawbacks, it’s not the worst Xmas body count film I’ve seen, though I’ll likely not watch it again.

 

Deep(er) filmic dive

Kaylee Williams also appeared with Brinke Stevens in BENEATH THE OLD DARK HOUSE (2022; director/screenwriter: Matt Cloude).

THE SLUMBER PARTY MASSACRE (1982)

 

(1982; director/uncredited co-screenwriter: Amy Holden Jones, billed as Amy Jones. Co-screenwriter: Rita Mae Brown.)

Plot: A girls-only slumber party gets an uninvited guest─a power drill-wielding, escaped serial killer, who turns their fun-time into a bloody, traumatic gathering.

 

Review

SLUMBER, a mostly standard slasher film, was originally penned by Rita Mae Brown as a slasher parody called SLEEPLESS NIGHTS. That changed when producers, including Roger Corman, decided it should be filmed with less humor in the mix, causing Brown to revise it, only to have further revised by others. Thankfully, some of the original script’s risible moments can be seen in SLUMBER, giving it at least a few worthwhile and truly funny moments.

As with many movies in this period and genre, bare female flesh is shown, though less than usual. This, according to actress Brinke Stevens, was because several of her fellow actresses wouldn’t appear nude.

It’s inauspicious that much of its seventy-six-minute running time is taken up with lackluster, mostly suspenseless stalk-and-slay scenes (blame producer interference and limited budget) which mar its other, better aspects─among them: solid FX, its slick-early-Eighties look, familiar and good for its low-budget and genre (thanks to cinematographer Stephen L. Posey, billed as Steve Posey); its overt attempts at feminist-minded parody; and the fact that it featured a female director and female screenwriters in a time when few productions did.

The director and actors, young and working with filler dialogue and scenes, do what they can to make it work, but this isn’t high art─it isn’t even solid entertainment. One of the things director Jones does right is end SLUMBER on a memorable moment, a striking cut-off point.

I’d only recommend SLUMBER for viewers who are curious about its smattering of (effective) humor, and fans of the laugh-out-loud bad slasher flicks, Brinke Stevens, and female-helmed and -penned films.

Deep(er) filmic dive

Eagle-eyed, in-the-know viewers may spot the title and the author of the book in Kim’s bedroom Rubyfruit Jungle by Rita Mae Brown.