Who’s up for a timeless tale of Christmas joy, told with grace and style? Tough, all I’ve got for you today is 60 minutes of badly made insanity, the likes of which can only be found in 60s TV specials. A film so thoroughly low budget that only one of the cast has any credits other than this film, and none of them have face on IMDB. So; yes, this is the good stuff!

The film starts, like all quality Christmas movies with three boys discussing what they’re going to be doing that Halloween night. They all exist firmly in that 60s TV world where no one can act and nothing they say sounds at all realistic. But credit where credit is due; one of Mark’s Friends (the producers couldn’t afford to name everyone) is African American, so that’s a point for the progressives and the satisfying knowledge that some racists viewer was yelling whatever the 60s equivalent of “WOKE!” would be.

The boys eventually get bored of sitting quietly and head off to the local spinster’s house to play “I bet she’s a witch!”. She has a cat called Lucifer, none of the behaviour is that intense and they’ve probably licked enough lead paint that for it all to stay on the comedic side of harassment laws. The main result is a series of highly telegraphed boners that give Mark a mighty blow to the head and turn the footage into colour. Obviously, this gag was stolen from The Wizard Of Oz, but whilst that teleported you to a magic world of wonder this gives a pretty detailed depiction of what it feels like to have severe concussion from blunt force head trauma.

As a consolation prize the now fully garbed up witch gives him a magic ring, and then we skip 54 days to Christmas Eve either because it’s a Christmas film or Mark is in a coma. We get to meet his family, and we discover that Mark inherited his brains from his father, because incompetent males that can keep a family of four in middle class luxury was a thing at that time. We also meet Icabod the Turtle who’s the most charismatic of all the cast.

Things happen, mostly involving stupidity and sound effects, and a talking Christmas Tree appears in the garden and then in the lounge. Personally, I’d run away from anything possessed by the voice of Satan, but the father (hilariously) forgot to buy a fir that year. We then get an extended nightmare sequence where Mark runs around town making people do his bidding, and that’s where the real trauma kicks in!

Obviously, the only thing to do next is have Santa held hostage, which sets of an international man hunt. It’s all very sad that Mark is obviously being very selfish, and you’ll be incredibly confused about what exactly is going on. Also, somehow, a bit more traumatised. Then a five-foot-tall giant turns up and threatens to make Mark his slave, so Mark finally does something sensible and runs off to find his mum because that’s the true meaning of Christmas!

Trust me, none of the above is a spoiler or will even slightly prepare you for what you are about to witness. I’m writing it partly to give you a taste of why you should grab a copy from YouTube to watch and partly in the hopes that someone will tell me I dreamt the whole thing. This is psychotronic treasure, a film so bad that it comes out the other side into being a visceral experience of unease to savour.

It was all very clearly intended to be fantastical and heartwarming in an age-appropriate manner, but the lack of budget and what can most generously be described as “fucking mental” script means it’s nightmare fuel. Which is fine, because Christmas used to be all about the ghost stories and this accidental masterpiece captures all the non-sequester harrowing of those at their finest. The writer Harold Vaugh Taylor only has one other credit, and that involves a kid meeting a leprechaun that gives him 7 coins so you can bet your arse I’m tracking that down. Ichabod isn’t in it, but you can’t have everything; even at Christmas.
The Raggedyman