* Trigger Warning: This article contains sensitive topics that might unsettle some readers. Themes of murder, violence, voyeurism and horror will be discussed*
Black Christmas (1974) is not only a slasher film—it is a slow, creeping descent into psychological horror. Beneath its surface of holiday lights and carols lies an unsettling portrait of fear, voyeurism, and the fragility of safety. The story follows a group of sorority sisters who begin receiving disturbing, fragmented phone calls, unaware that the caller is already inside their home. As the Christmas season unfolds, the women are hunted one by one. Only Jess, the protagonist, survives, though her fate is left hauntingly uncertain.
The film unsettles the viewer by immersing them in two contrasting states of consciousness: the victims’ fear-ridden experience and the twisted perspective of the killer, Billy. His point of view distorts the world around him, turning ordinary hallways into predatory hiding places. The shaky shots pull the audience into his unstable psychology, forcing us to witness what he sees and, even worse, what he does. This creates a sense of helplessness, as if we are trapped inside the killer’s fractured mind with no way to stop what’s coming.
The sorority house becomes its own psychological labyrinth. With its dim lights, narrow staircases, and oppressive shadows, the home—typically a symbol of warmth and safety—slowly transforms into a claustrophobic prison. Silence becomes one of the film’s cruelest weapons; long stretches without music or dialogue create a tension that feels almost suffocating. Each quiet moment invites the possibility of violence. Every room feels contaminated by unseen danger, and every ring of the telephone becomes a reminder that the threat is both imminent and inescapable.
Beneath the horror, the film exposes the anxieties of the 1970s. Jess’s decision regarding her pregnancy reflects the era’s debates about women’s autonomy. The police’s slight dismissive attitude at times reveals a growing distrust of institutions meant to protect. The sorority setting represents the new independence young women were claiming, an independence and safe space that the killer violently invades. In this way, Black Christmas becomes a psychological portrait of not only individual terror, but of a society grappling with change and uncertainty.
The fear that drives the film is not simply the presence of a killer, but the terror of not knowing—not knowing who he is, why he does what he does, or even if he is ever truly gone. The ending provides no comfort, no answers, and no closure. Jess lies unconscious as Billy’s voice echoes from the attic, where the bodies of her sorority sisters remain. The phone rings again, reminding us that we still do not know who he is and that he is still out there looking for his next victims. The audience is left with the chilling realization that evil can continue quietly, unnoticed, and unresolved.
In the world of Black Christmas, the season of joy and celebration becomes twisted into a quiet nightmare. The lights still shine, the snow still falls, and yet beneath the surface, something monstrous lurks—waiting, watching, listening, and breathing in the shadows.