2005’s, Santa’s Slay from director David Steiman is another knowingly silly festive horror-comedy in the Jack Frost mould, albeit one with a larger budget. Sadly, it’s rarely funny or scary enough to stand alone as a passable example of either genre but at least still has some fun ideas. Apparently, Santa is actually some sort of “anti-Jesus” who was hustled into losing a game of curling - yes, curling - one thousand years ago by a sneaky angel and had to spend a millennium being jolly and giving presents to kids and whatnot. However, his thousand years are up and it’s payback time, with Santa reverting back to being a burly, jacked-up homicidal lunatic played by hulking wrestler Bill Goldberg (Universal Soldier: The Return) playing St. Nick like the cackling, wisecracking WWE superstar he is, crossbred with Freddy Krueger.
Pissed-off Santa has tracked down that pesky angel to a little snowy town, aptly named ‘Hell’, and is looking for revenge. He’s also more than happy to slaughter a whole load of repulsive ‘naughty’ folk along the way, including a gaggle of ‘has-been’ actors during the film’s humorous, ultra-violent opening. A despicable family of privileged rich pricks featuring Chris Kattan, Fran Drescher, Rebecca Gayheart, James Caan and more are bitching their way through a Christmas dinner before Santa bursts from the fireplace, dispatching them all in a series of bloodthirsty but funnily festive ways. It’s mindless, fun and full of frantic energy but the rest of the film can’t quite live up to it.
So many of the gags feel really forced and unfunny, like Santa leafing through a copy of ‘A Christmas Carol’ before proclaiming that “Christmas will scare the Dickens outta you!” then lobbing it at someone’s head. Ooft.
What plot there is follows geeky stoner-type Nick (Douglas Smith) who turns out to be the grandson of the angel who caused this mess, and his cute, gun-obsessed girlfriend Mary (Emilie De Ravin), who conveniently discover the truth about Santa right before he comes after them. Lots of Christmassy stuff gets smashed, victims are impaled on candy canes, Santa breathes fire on people and stripper poles are utilised as murder devices.
Not much of it makes sense but it’s enjoyable enough to just witness the carnage and to behold Goldberg spitting cringey one-liners and cackling a lot. The story is close to coherent, the action is well-photographed and there are a few laughs along the way. This is no classic but it’s hard to not at least slightly appreciate a film that works this hard to go as loud and as crazy as its budget will allow. What were people expecting from a Goldberg-as-killer-Santa movie? On that front, this one definitely delivers everything it promises.
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