It’s Christmas time again, and what better way to celebrate than with David Steiman’s spirited tale of the real story of good ol’ Santa Claus?  This week, good little boys and girls, in honor of the overflow of holiday spirit which is running amok within me, I bring you a special, mid-week Holiday version of Sunday Morning Sketch Cinema, featuring the 2005 instant holiday classic, Santa’s Slay.

A charming spin on the classic tale of old Saint Nick, David Steiman’s holiday horror fest spins a yarn of how Santa Claus came to be.  Far from the cheery, rosy-cheeked, happy old man we’ve all been raised to know, this film instead tells us of a thousand-year old bet between one of God’s angels and Satan’s son (played impeccably by Bill Goldberg), Santa.  Having lost the bet, Santa has spent the last 1,000 years being kind and generous to children everywhere, bringing yuletide gifts year after year.

Oh, did I mention Satan’s loss was endured during a curling match? Yep. Curling. Enjoy the ‘Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer’-esque clay-mation telling of such match.

Unfortunately for the township of Hell, the clock has run out on Santa’s thousand-year punishment, and he has certainly been keeping track of time.  He’s returned with a vengeance, ready to reap massive amounts of holiday horrors upon the masses.

Even more unfortunate for Nicholas Yuleson, he not only has to battle tasteless gifts from his family and girlfriend, but he also happens to discover (in the nick of time) that his own grandfather (portrayed perfectly by Robert Culp) is none other than the wager-making angel himself, responsible for dooming Santa to his millennium of magnanimity.

If you watch this movie for nothing else, the opening scene is more than enough of a holiday gift to keep you sufficiently enthralled with the rest of the film.  With cameos by James Caan,Fran Drescher, Chris Kattan, and Rebecca Gayheart (none of whom are spared – not even the family dog), Santa’s Slay is sure to quickly become a Christmas tradition.

Dubbed a ‘black comedy’, this movie is rife with holiday-themed slayings, tasteless word play, and the type of cinematic cheese you’ve come to expect from Sunday Morning Sketch Cinema.  Rather than tease you with plot details, I will simply leave you with Santa’s ‘naughty’ list – the official Santa’s Slay body count:

1-6: The Mason Family and their Dog, subjected to numerous fatal injuries.
7: Mrs. Talbot – Elderly Woman, run off the road by Santa.
8: Street Punk, beaten and stabbed with a candy-cane after attempting to rob Santa.
9: Strip Club Valet, eaten by Santa’s “hell-deer”.
10: Strip Club Bouncer #1, beaten, strangled, and gift-wrapped by Santa.
11: Strip Club Bouncer #2, thrown by Santa onto the bartender’s knife.
12-13: Bartender and attendee, crushed under a table by Santa.
14: Truck Driver, electrocuted by a stripper pole Santa kicks into a lamp.
15-20: The Strippers, trapped in a blaze from burning coal.
21-22: Two Children, blown up by explosive presents.
23: Mr. Green, beaten and impaled upon his menorah.
24-28: Chief Caulk and the Officers, tazered, stabbed, impaled, and generally killed by Santa.
29-33: Christmas Carolers, dispatched by a number of various wrestling moves.
34: Grandpa Yuleson, run down by Santa’s “hell-deer”.
35: Pastor Timmons, impaled after being blown out of Santa’s sleigh.

And now, my well-behaved kiddies, for this week’s SMSC quote of the week:

“Don’t use any of that political language shit with me; it’s Christmas! Wish me a merry Christmas!”

“I’m sorry, Merry Christmas Mrs. Talbot!”

“Thank you, and go fuck yourself.”

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I’m excited to say that last week I was reunited not only with my back-from-the-dead computer, but more importantly, with my Netflix online account.  I must confess, in the weeks in which I was separated from my dear friend, FearNet left me profoundly disappointed in its lackluster post-Halloween programming lineup.  There’s only so much Sleepaway Camp I can take.

Perusing the selection of deliciously-sketchy B-movies and cheese-laden zombie flicks, I decided to settle in for a Sketch Cinema masterpiece which is lovingly brought to us by none other than Lt. Donald Thompson himself, John Saxon.  From nightmares to zombies, I present to you Saxon’s 1987 unintentional zom-com, Zombie Death House.

Derek Keillor’s having a rough time.  He’s trying to break free from his boss, mob kingpin Vic Moretti, after being Moretti’s driver for some time.  This is tough to do, particularly as he’s conveniently servicing his boss’s girlfriend in his off-time.  Moretti solves one problem for Keillor by killing said girlfriend, though he manages to frame Keillor for the murder, sending him off to prison.

We soon learn that at said prison, Colonel Burgess (Saxon), a bio-weapons engineer, is testing out the latest in chemical warfare and is using death row inmates as his test subjects.  Everything goes swimmingly to plan until the attempted execution of a recently infected inmate – an opportunity which presents the convict with the opportunity to demonstrate his super-human, zombie-like prowess – and all hell proceeds to break loose.

A lesser director would have simply settled for a prison-based zombie apocalypse, but not our pal John Saxon – and this is why we love him.  Keillor has managed to spring most of the inmates from their cells, while the government has quarantined the entire prison, leaving guards, staff, the warden (and his wife and children), and a local hot-blonde-scientist-turned-TV-reporter all trapped within the prison grounds.

Keillor clearly sees the opportunity laid out for him, and he and his fellow inmates begin to take hostages and make demands – particularly in order to get Moretti to the prison, where his homosexual brother has been taken hostage as well.  Moretti happily obliges, eagerly awaiting the chance to point and laugh at Keillor, unaware of the quarantine on the building.  How will Moretti react once he realizes he’s trapped?

Zombie Death House is a gore-filled, laugh-a-minute mash up of cheesy-action-drama and take-it-for-what-it’s-worth violence, reminiscent of an undead version of Miami Vice. Obviously Saxon is taking his cues from his Napoli violenta days as the movie desperately tries so hard to be much bigger than it is.  Lucio Fulci you are not, Mr. Saxon, but I, for one, appreciate the effort.

And now, my little sketchy friends, I leave you with this week’s Sunday Morning Sketch Cinema quote of the week:

“Got no bananas here monkey ass. Keep walking.” (Death Row Inmate)

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