Bad Movies Beware!
What in the unholy, unnatural, Godforsaken, s**t-flinging, cornbread HELL is that rancid smell coming from my computer?!
Oh, it’s just Santa and the Ice Cream Bunny.
Just about every year I try to stray away from the horror-themed Christmas flicks one week and check out what’s going on with the family scene. There was Santa Paws, Santa Claus Conquers the Martians, and Santa Claws to name a few.
While these films were bad, they were at least good to SOMEBODY. Someone out there thought that these movies were good enough to have a cult following. Hey, kids can get real cultish about their cute movies. Just sayin’.
But this putrid pile of fecal freak-out barely has a fan base. In fact, even the small cult following it has admits that it’s utter trash and only keeps it around out of some obligation to old bad films that really should’ve never been greenlighted.
Really, people. I can understand Manos: The Hands of Fate. But this?!
This was one of those movies that ended up being so bad that it actually kind of pissed me off. I threw my hands up and groaned at every random turn this donkey turd took because it was just too f**king painful. When I went to my editor, I had to explain that the review may seem like it’s random because the movie is about as consistent as the aftermath of a three-course meal at Taco Bell.
The movie opens with Santa’s elves in the workshop busily building toys and singing obnoxiously. They’re all played by children, probably either because of some appeal of having kids play elves or because no adults in their right minds would’ve taken the job. The head elf, a tall blonde girl, notices that Santa is nowhere to be found. The elves distress, but they keep working.
Meanwhile, we find Santa stuck on a beach in Florida without his reindeer. As it turns out, Santa was doing a test flight and crashed. The reindeer couldn’t take the heat and decided to leave Santa for dead on the beach, sleigh and all.
Sounds like a good reason for eight straight nights of venison.
Santa begins to talk/sing a song about his problem. The lyrics are simple and, frankly, a little meandering. The song is accompanied by a montage of Florida kids playing in their yards because, you know, it’s usually still about 90 degrees in December in Florida.
Santa begins to call out to the children by name. The two boys wrestling in the yard, the kids playing in the park, the complete f**king idiot who keeps jumping off the roof of his house while holding an umbrella, even the kids playing tag.
All except for the three girls jump-roping. They just get “girls” because…reasons?
They all run to Santa to see what’s wrong with him. Along the way, they apparently make a detour by the Mississippi River because Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn see them and follow along to check out what the commotion is about.
Tom Sawyer. Huck Finn. Why?! Hell, why the f**k not?! Hey, I can totally see that. Fine. I’m damn sure Encyclopedia Brown and the Hardy Boys will go knocking on Nancy Drew’s door and see if she wants to also come solve the mystery of the old fat cookie monster stuck on the damn beach.
The music for the sequence is done almost entirely with a kazoo. The inventor of the kazoo should’ve been tarred and feathered.
Huck and Tom hide in the bushes while the kids try to free Santa from the sand. One little girl shows up with a gorilla that she intends to hook up to the sleigh. Yes. A f**king gorilla. I’m still wondering:
Oi, my head hurts.
The gorilla fails, and the little girl takes him away while two more kids show up with a random donkey, and even a wild pig. One boy actually shows some sense and shows up with a gigantic horse, though watching him and Santa try to move the animal into position is just painful.
What the f**k? What, is there a petting zoo nearby? “Hey, excuse me, lady? I was wondering if I could borrow the gorilla so I can try to help Santa out of the sand.”
After all the failed attempts, the kids get discouraged and sit down for more of Santa’s voiceover lectures. Yes, ALL of Santa’s lines are voiceover. And improvised, at that. There was no real script to this forty-minute long homage to all things jackassy and cringe-worthy.
Yes. Forty minutes. You’re about to see why.
Santa decides to regale the children with the story of Thumbelina. Well, maybe a better description would be “abuse and berate” the children with the story. At least, the next hour of the movie makes it seem that way.
Scene-shift to an amusement park where a girl in a red dress is skipping around and riding rides while singing about what life would be like if she were Thumbelina. She wanders into a museum, and a speaker on the wall begins to tell the story.
Okay, to be fair, I’m not going to go into the full synopsis because, frankly, it’s Thumbelina. It was written by Hans Christian Andersen in 1835. If you don’t know the story, Google.
The reason? I’m watching this turd unfold on my screen, and I’m suddenly slapped with the opening credits to a COMPLETELY SEPARATE MOVIE. Yes. It’s the entire 1970 film Thumbelina directed by Barry Mahon. Apparently, after some reading, his adaptation of the story was so bad that no one watched it. What better way to inject people with your sad-assed attempt at telling a story than by creating a pseudonym, writing a s**ty Christmas special for television two years after the fact, and then putting your s**ty movie into your other s***ty movie.
I will say that Thumbelina has never been one of my favorite stories, not even the Don Bluth film from 1994. I swore that movie was a good three hours long when I watched it, but no. It’s got an eighty-seven-minute running time. I just don’t like the story. That’s just me. Needless to say, it felt like the insertion of Barry Mahon’s movie into Santa and the Ice Cream Bunny seemed like it stretched things out way longer than it needed to be.
The acting was poor, the costumes were damn-near papier-mâché, the dialogue was bad, and the writing was atrocious. Not really a whole lot more to say about Thumbelina circa 1970.
Once the movie ends, credits and all, we return to Santa and his captive chil—…audience. Totally meant audience.
The kids all run off, and Santa takes a nap. He wakes up to the sound of a siren coming closer to him. He stands up and sees his old friend, the Ice Cream Bunny, driving out to the beach with all the kids to fetch Santa.
FINALLY! The title character!
I think I saw this in a slasher film once.
The Ice Cream Bunny has no lines, so the last five minutes of dialogue is nothing more than Santa improvising ramblings and incoherent speech as he gets into the car with the Bunny and heads back to the North Pole. Tom and Huck watch from the bushes as the kids return to the sleigh on the beach. The sleigh disappears, and the ending credits roll.
And I cry because I had to watch this movie sober.
VERDICT: SANTA SHARTED.
What, in the name of George Clooney’s Batman, was this s**t?
I mean, really! Does this camel vomit even qualify as a movie?! From what I’ve found, it was a television special back in 1972. Fortunately, it was forgotten by time until the advent of YouTube and the realization that some a**hole out there thought this movie was worth scanning to digital format. No movie should ever be forgotten, but some would fare better in a vault buried at sea.
Damn you, YouTube.
The acting, on the whole, is a f**king travesty. Between the Santa character not having much direction and the guy doing his voiceover sounding like a drunk clown at a circus, Santa ends up coming off as incompetent and senile.
The writing is absolutely painful. The dialogue is dirt-simple, and the Ice Cream Bunny has no lines, which is probably a blessing because I’m sure it would’ve been a reason to stretch this f**king nightmare another twenty minutes, at least.
The editing is a s**ty as it gets. The camera shifts are so chopped and half-assed that it actually startled me one good time when it shifted from one character to the other. Even the sound was affected.
So why was this train wreck even made? Well, my earlier mention of Barry Mahon’s luck with Thumbelina was pretty spot-on. Thumbelina was an atrocity, and word spread quickly that this guy had managed to create a waking nightmare of a movie. He also did Jack and the Beanstalk, which was equally a disaster, and is in a different print of Santa and the Ice Cream Bunny. He created this Christmas Special for the sole purpose of making people watch his s**ty fairytale movies.
Imagine if Uwe Boll created the pseudonym C. Dickers, and did a Christmas movie that featured the entire movie Bloodrayne.
Except way worse.
Now, I implore you: save the children. They will comb YouTube, and no doubt they will find this horrific pile of reindeer poop rotting next to a pile of Elf on the Shelf carcasses. Wave the flies away and ban your children. This is a nightmare that they won’t wake from.
I’m actually adding a seventh Pile of S**t to this one. Yes, it actually rates WORSE than The Star Wars Holiday Special. This movie was about as heartwarming as a monkey trying to mate with a porcupine.