My only quibble with the faux vintage styling in The Sacrifice Game is the same problem I had with The Holdovers, which is the hairstyles. By 1971, long hair had passed from a blight to a right that many men were exercising excessively. Even the straight crowd was letting the locks flow past the collar by 1971. For the rampaging gang’s presentation, there seems to be a conscious choice to have them look like the gang from Drugstore Cowboy. Maybe that was a good impulse, but the subdued results simply don’t project the era. Massoud’s styling is pure Sha Na Na greaser and sticks out like a sore Fonzie thumb. You wouldn’t have to have Jude ape Charlie per se, as you could also have him do a deranged Jim Morrison like in Cult Of The Damned. This is one of few instances where big distracting hippie wigs would have helped pachouli up the ambiance.
Outside of not putting the earth shoe to the metal on the throwback vibes, Wexler has delivered a deep red, hide under the bed, Yuletide fright ride. Wexler builds a cathedral-like architecture of character work with the emotional sympathies welded hard to the audience. All body-count appetites are fed with the vicious murders in the first act, so by the time Christmas dinner arrives, we are rooting for the tied-up victims.
“…a deep red, hide under the bed, Yuletide fright ride.”
Wexler also plows through what may be virgin snow in the Christmas horror ski slope. The point of a lot of Christmas horror is to invert the overly corny imagery into a dark perversion of good cheer. In The Sacrifice Game, we are guided toward the true meaning of Christmas on the edge of a blade. The emotional involvement generates an unexpected rush of that good old December feeling, which many regular Christmas movies can only imitate in sputters.
Crazy as it seems, I walked away from The Sacrifice Game with a huge dose of peace on Earth and goodwill to men. And the best part is that all this sentiment is hidden like a plum in an ultra-violent Christmas pudding. Yeah, the hair gets in the way, and I hate that I am now that old guy bitching about haircuts. Other than that, this is a unique holiday horror experience that can be enjoyed year after year.
"…an ultra-violent Christmas pudding."
