In his book Poetic Diction, Owen Barfield posits that there is a moment in the evolution of every language where conditions are perfect for a masterpiece to be born. It’s a moment when a majority of the speakers of the language fully understand how it works, but the “rules” have not yet been chiseled into stone. There exists a perfect balance of structure to build upon without the rigidity of form.

Doubtless Mr. Barfield would object to his philosophy being applied to the slasher film genre in general, and Silent Night, Deadly Night in particular, but the application is apt nonetheless. The 80s were a perfect storm in the evolution of cinematic language of the slasher film. The films that preceded that time had not completely codified the tropes of the genre, and the films that followed were necessarily works of imitation and deconstruction. But at the exact balancing point between chaos and convention, Silent Night, Deadly Night emerged, whole and complete and perfect in every way.

The story opens with a typical family going to visit their grandfather in a mental institution on Christmas Day. He sits in his wheelchair, seemingly catatonic, until the rest of the family leaves little Billy Chapman alone with the old man. Then he begins to speak, whispering to Billy that Santa Claus rides out each year, not only to bring presents to the good children, but to punish those who have been naughty even once.

Later Billy’s family stops to help a man in a Santa suit who has broken down by the side of the road; but the man turns out to be a robber who brutally murders Billy’s mother and father right in front of him.

As the years pass Billy has an understandable fear of Santa Claus, despite having blocked the specifics of that night from his young mind, but the Mother superior at the Catholic orphanage where he is raised believes the best way to treat his phobias is by administering ever more stringent discipline, forcing Billy’s fears ever further inward. This song of psychological trauma finally crescendos into madness when an adult Billy is asked to wear the garb of a department store Santa Claus.

Silent Night, Deadly Night is fascinating because of the line it walks between bowing to the tropes of the 80’s slasher film, and making its own way. On the one hand it indulges in violence for violence’s sake, killing off amorous teens and stereotypical bullies in increasingly gruesome and creative set pieces. Take those scenes out of context and it could just as easily be Jason Vorhees or Freddy Krueger lopping off heads and impaling nubile teens on mounted antlers (do you get it? She’s horny). But context is everything. And Billy Chapman is not like Jason or Freddy. His backstory is not painted in a broad strokes flashback narrated by the people he’s about to slaughter. We see how he got to be this way. He’s not a supernatural, unstoppable force. He’s just a guy who’s been taken beyond the breaking point by the cruel twists and turns of life.

Silent Night, Deadly Night drags the subversive truth of how we view slasher films into the cold light of day; it knows we aren’t really cheering for the stupid teenagers. It knows that on some level, the killer is the hero of the film. Silent Night, Deadly Night does away with beating around the moral bush and makes the slasher the main character.

And it succeeds on more than a theoretical level. The cinematography here is beautiful; the framing, perfect; the set design, spot on. The actors could easily be forgiven for mailing in their lines in such a bizarre movie, but instead their performances bring even more depth to these characters. In particular, the role of the Mother Superior could have easily devolved into a cartoonishly evil caricature, but instead Lilyan Chauvin brings a depth to the character that makes her seem real and relatable.

Silent Night Deadly Night entered the world in a storm of controversy. Critics panned it simply for its subject matter, believing that it was an attack on Christmas and Santa Claus and all that was good in the world. But for all of its gore and gruesome violence, Silent Night Deadly Night isn’t a mean-spirited movie. It’s a story about a boy who lost his way and eventually lost his mind, in the dark days of what should have been season of cheer. And it’s a dirge for every time the true spirit of Christmas is lost in the shadow of selfishness and cynicism.





Albert lives in Florida where the humidity has driven him halfway to madness, and his children have finished the job. He is the author of The Mulch Pile and A Prairie Home Apocalypse or: What the Dog Saw .

To hear more of our thoughts on Silent Night, Deadly Night check out Episode 172 of the Human Echoes Podcast.