This Geek In Netflix: Santa Claus
Around Christmas time, I get inspired to look for the little things that bring me joy– bad dubbing, racism, sexism and Satan. Which is why I turned to this movie to help engage my holiday spirit.
In 1959, the blight that is the film Santa Claus was birthed into the world. Now, we’re going to do a quick side note here to clarify things: Santa Claus was originally a Mexican movie filmed and released in Mexico. Then K. Gordon Murray swooped in (like he was known for doing) and had it dubbed into English and released in America in 1960. So add that to your little internal fact-sheet.
I’m not even going to bother trying to establish actors or actresses you might recognize– there’s no point. There’s some kids, there’s some adults, and then they talk and sometimes words come out that synch up with their lips. The end.
So… plot. Plot, plot, plot. Yes, there was one. I swear, there was a plot. Just give me a minute. Ooookay. Plot.
Sexually confused.
Why don’t I just give you the opening narration and launch off from there? Maybe we’ll be able to find some reindeer droppings and follow them to some rising action.
“Way up in the heavens, far out in space, in a beautiful gold and crystal palace right above the North Pole lives a kind and jolly old gentleman, Santa Claus, also known as Saint Nicolas, the best friend of boys and girls everywhere. But let’s move in for a closer look. Come along.”
Right. Santa lives in space. In a castle on a cloud (Les Mis moment? Don’t mind if I do!). We open to Santa setting up the manger scene, where my notes describe him as “laughing like an asshole”. I assume that means I was unimpressed by his jolliness.
As he’s arranging the manager, he stops to tell little plastic baby Jesus (hay-seuss!) that he has to finish making the toys for all the good little girls and boys.
Yeah, Santa sounds kinda like a tool.
After talking to the inanimate infant, Santa strolls over to a piano and initiates the racism song. It’s basically a seven minute long song that initiates the viewer into Santa’s slave-labor ring. The narrator (back to that info sheet: it’s K. Gordon Murray!) accompanies it with lines like: “These little helpers are from Africa.”
No matter how much he practices, no one will adopt him.
I shit you not, after this line, the camera cuts to a bunch of black kids dancing around in leopard print loincloths with leather drums and tribal war paint. We also have “helpers from Spain”, “tots from China”, and “boys and girls from England”. There’s also a “kids from the Orient” section for the weird looking kids that have no real category (?!).
It must have been hell for the people filming this, as it was a bunch of kids dressed up in stereotypical clothing from various nations, who clearing did not want to be there and definitely did not want to be singing.
The song of racism was cut short by Pedro and some other ethnically highlighted kid bringing Santa a Devil toy that, when lit like a firework, caused the cameraman to descend into hell to film the vaguely-synchronized “devil dance”.
Picture men in red leotards, baggy red underwear, red facepaint, bull horns strapped to their head, and red-painted Spock ears glued to the sides of their skull. Then picture those men frolicking around like they’re competing in some sort of odd tournament for the mentally impaired. That’s the “devil dance”.
Note to Self: Think of G-rated comment that is not about his goatee. Or blackface.
The delightful(?) devil dance is interrupted when the Devil himself (in the form of a rocky fireplace) orders one of the littler devils, Pitch, to go to Earth and make all the kids do evil. Then he warns Pitch that failure to do so will result in him having to eat chocolate ice cream, which will give him indigestion.
Which makes it good foresight for him to be wearing baggy underpants, I suppose. (Did I go there? Yes, I did. Why? Because I have no taste.)
After cringing and making very dramatic declarations to his lord and master, Pitch goes topside and begins to whisper in the ears of various little boys and girls urging them to do bad. Which means that a good fifty minutes of this one and a half hour film is a re-enactment of the “Goofus and Gallant” feature from “Highlights” magazine.
You’re a wizard, Merlin.
I’m not going to really bother going further with this plot– I need to get this movie out of my head and as far away from me as possible. So here’s a breakdown:
1. Merlin manufactures roofies for Santa.
2. A red-headed stepchild smiths a key that opens any door.
3. Santa begins raping the shit out of people.
4. Number three was totally a lie.
5. A larger version of one of Jonathon London’s dogs chases Santa up a tree.
6. Santa speaks to a large foam vagina… and it tells him secrets.
The Vagina Dialogues
7. The Most Awkward Edit in the History of Film occurs.
8. Santa gets his bartending license.
9. Merlin inspires Monty Python’s coconuttery.
10. A child asks for an atomic laboratory and a machine gun… and he gets them.
The money shot.
And unto the world, really odd lines of dialogue are born:
“Let’s watch the little rich boy’s dream.”
“‘Dear Santa Claus, please bring me a little brother.’ Hahaha, here’s one for you, Mr. Stork.”
“Sure it’s not a bad idea to use spaceships for our interplanetary flight, but to convert my white reindeer to Sputniks? Noooo, I should say not.”
“Here is a good little boy whose daddy is quite rich. This mother, on the other hand, is very poor, and this is her daughter Lupita.”
“Pfew, that was close! He almost ran into the moon!”
“Santa Claus, you love me, don’t you? Say you love me, Santa.”
“Hurry, Mr. Merlin! This is no time to play horsey, Santa’s in danger!
Run for the motherfucking hills, Lupita!
This movie changed me. This movie did things to me. It touched me in a bad way. I showered and showered, but I never felt truly clean, no matter how hard I scrubbed. You should probably watch it.
This Christmas masterpiece is available to kindle your holiday spirit (or excite your gag reflex) on Netflix on Demand. While I normally do not advocate drug use to enhance one’s movie-viewing, I definitely think this movie may warrant some sort of stimulant.
