Until I started watching I had no idea this was filmed in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, but the sights are instantly recognizable for folks who have lived in or around the city. Hey, that Christmas tree ornament that we see in a fleeting shot looks exactly like one that my parents have had for years. Wow, those dialogue choices and social values sure are outdated. Oh my, that sure is a lot of gratuitous nudity. Wait, hold on, what about the movie itself? Well, there are some good ideas here, and I can appreciate some of the decisions that filmmaker John A. Russo made. I'd be plainly lying, though, if I said 'Santa Claws' weren't more than a little taxing. Frankly, it's just not very good.
The chief value this has to offer is in the core premise of a disturbed, obsessive fan stalking a celebrity, for this is a sad reality that must be dealt with for too many people who achieve even a modicum of fame. I also appreciate some of the music herein, particularly the rock and metal chords, and every now and again there's a clever line dispensed. Though it's not an outward facet of the picture, there's something to be said, too, for the depiction of untreated mental illness; while not handled as delicately and/or mindfully as has been the case in other flicks (e.g., 1988's 'Pin,' or 1977's 'Martin'), anyone who has had encounters with such individuals will recognize the traits that filmmaker James A. Russo has written into the character in question. Unfortunately, beyond these factors, the viewing experience starts to break down, and the possibilities of what the feature could have been are gravely diminished. Just as much to the point, for whatever we might earnestly get out of this, we can find that quality elsewhere without subjecting ourselves to the tawdriness 'Santa Claws' primarily represents.
I'm no prude; I can enjoy nudity as much as anyone else. There's a problem, however, when the nudity in a title outweighs its substance, or becomes an outright substitute. The fact of the matter is that there is scant meaningful worth in these eighty-three minutes. The writing is desperately thin, with barely any story to speak of in the first place, and I was entirely flummoxed when we learn early on that the "obsessed fan" in question is actually the next door neighbor. With rare exceptions the dialogue is pretty awful, not to mention the characterizations. The cast at least make an earnest effort, but to be blunt, the acting is roundly terrible, and it's hard to determine who comes off worst. Despite having a fair prior list of credits in various capacities, Russo's direction is just as rotten, and far too much of the picture feels quite amateurish as it presents. The same can be said of S. William Hinzman's cinematography, which in some instances is altogether sloppy, and the sound design is also regrettably imbalanced. By any measure, 'Santa Claws' seems to be marked by a dire lack of experience, skill, or effort.
It's not all bad. There really were good ideas here in various ways. If nothing else, the climax is well done. It just seems far too much that the production was approached with more care for women's bodies than for anything else, and the whole suffered in turn. Once again, what we are able to extract from this flick we can also get elsewhere, and other renditions of the same ideas have been done much better, with more impact. I don't begrudge anyone who does especially enjoy 'Santa Claws,' but as far as I'm concerned there are much better ways to spend one's time, and there's just no major reason to bother with this at all.
