When it comes to horror movies, [title] jingles its way into horror history as a trailblazer that dared to wrap the slasher formula in tinsel before Halloween ever picked up a butcher knife. It’s also one of the earliest Christmas-themed horror movies. But beneath the hype and accolades, does this snow-dusted slasher deliver, or is it just a lump of coal in the genre’s stocking?

Sorry, Santa, but Black Christmas crashes the sleigh and leaves us shivering in disappointment. This so-called slasher pioneer fails to sharpen its blades and serves up scares as bland as a regifted fruitcake, lacking the depth to provoke and the energy to grip. It seems the movie may have earned more praise than it truly deserves, simply because audiences are so desperate for holiday-themed horror.

It’s Christmas break, and the sorority sisters are busy preparing to leave for the holidays. Outside, a stalker watches from the shadows, peering through the windows before scaling the house and quietly slipping into the attic. Inside, the mood shifts when the phone rings. The girls answer, only to be met by a deranged caller making pig-like squeals and crude sexual taunts, all topped off with a merry little threat: “I’m going to kill you.”

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What a tease Black Christmas is, dangling a juicy setup—a killer in the attic, creepy calls on the line, only to trip over its own feet and stall. Those creepy calls, initially somewhat intriguing, soon become a repetitive one-note song—droning on with piggish grunts and vulgar nonsense like a drunk dialer who simply refuses to hang up.

Between the endless prank calls and long stretches of buildup, we’re left twiddling our thumbs, practically begging the stalker to crawl out of the attic and do something—anything—to justify our time. When he finally swings, the camera plays hide-and-seek, using evasive angles to dodge the action, then going AWOL before he strikes again in the same disappointingly lackluster fashion.

There’s so little to get genuinely excited about here. Even the tension the atmosphere is supposed to create is lost and unraveled every time that phone rings with more incoherent drivel. The cast feels jumbled together, with no real standout characters to root for—we have Jess Bradford (Olivia Hussey) in the lead role, but the sorority girls feel more like sorority shadows, merely filling space and blending into the background, leaving us with very little emotional investment in the outcome.

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Jess and her boyfriend Pete (Keir Dullea) are at the center of the movie’s lovers’ quarrel. Their strained relationship forms one of the subplots, but it’s hardly compelling, mostly serving to pad the runtime while the main story about a missing sorority girl, whom we’ve already seen murdered in the house within the first ten minutes, struggles to gain any real momentum.

When the missing sorority sister’s dad and pals sound the alarm, You’d think someone would peek in the attic while doing a house sweep, where her body’s rotting. But no—the search party and police stumble past the obvious, missing what's right under their noses. Left grasping for leads, the police turn their attention to the disturbing phone calls, with Jess and Lieutenant Ken (John Saxon) in a desperate bid for answers.

However, it’s just more pig squeals and gibberish in the end, proving Black Christmas is more about answering phones than delivering a worthwhile slasher.

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We could go on about Black Christmas, but why waste more breath? Despite its status as a holiday horror staple, this often overhyped cult flick ultimately buckles under its own weight and ends up as little more than seasonal filler—if that—failing to deliver the festive thrills we had hoped for.