My dear readers, though the only recourse may be to shake one’s fist in futile anger, I still find it deeply frustrating that the calendar just seems to chug along with little regard for one’s mood or state of mind. To provide but a single example, this past weekend I attended the annual Loosening of Naskatar’s Seal in one of those inexplicably foul moods, one where stormy thoughts followed my every step and the warming light of optimism was nowhere to be found. Usually, any contact with Naskatar the Unseen is an occasion for much merriment and yet I simply could not extract myself from the doldrums. For civility’s sake, I did my best to feign enthusiasm during the dance of the Seven Scales and I believe I made a passable impression of contented individual while the blood sacrifices were underway. But no matter how many cracks formed in the fabric of our dimension or how many glimpses I received of Naskatar’s serpentine form gliding in and among the nether regions, I remained as glum as could be.

Riley (Imogen Poots) knows all about being emotionally unprepared for a holiday celebration. While many of her schoolmates at Hawthrone College are absolutely aquiver with excitement about the upcoming Christmas break, Riley is in a less carefree mood. Her yuletide cheer has been dampened by an unwanted sexual encounter and Brian Huntley (Ryan McIntyre), the perpetrator of this black deed and president of the Alpha Kappa Omicron fraternity, has seen an unsatisfying lack of repercussion for his actions. To make matters worse, Brian is not one of those apologetic rapists that one sees out and about these days, gabbing on about their profound respect for women and how they have learned an awful lot. He is more the sort to embrace his predatory nature, stopping by Riley’s place of work so that he can wink at his victim and lace in a few jokes of questionable taste. It is understandable, then, that Riley has a somewhat disparaging opinion of fraternity members, and perhaps even the male sex as a whole.

And so she finds it most distressing when a number of women on campus are violently dispatched by a man in a mask, often after receiving electronic messages from an account bearing the likeness of college founder Calvin Hawthrone. This last detail might have resolved the whole mystery quite quickly but unfortunately, Mr. Hawthrone has been dead for some time, making him a challenging subject for criminal scrutiny. Though it is not immediately clear which villain is to blame for the string of murders, Riley begins to suspect that the responsible party has some connection to the old Alpha Kappa Omicron. Naturally, one might think Riley a rather prejudicial investigative presence given her experiences but after she witnesses an initiation ceremony where “Greek life” neophytes consume dark fluid leaking from the eyes of a Calvin Hawthrone bust, her suspicions quickly find credible ground. This ritual, it seems, is giving birth to a new homicidal breed of fraternity member, ones united by their zombie-like manner and marked distaste for women.

Though I was not privileged enough to take in a viewing of the newly imagined Black Christmas during this past holiday season, I did have occasion to note that some of my peers in the critical community developed unkind feelings for this particular production. Some, it seems, were not pleased to see a franchise that has traditionally committed itself solely to yuletide slaughter turn into a vehicle for a serious message. While I certainly sympathize with those among us who would like to see the spirit of the original Black Christmas preserved, I find myself incapable of shutting out the importance of this new film’s central subject -- that historical collegiate antiques must be faithfully maintained. The artifacts from our institutes for higher learning are frightfully important and the cultural consequences of ignoring them can be dire. Had this Hawthrone bust been properly cared for, it is difficult to imagine a situation in which it would be allowed to consistently leak streams of infectious misogyny. A chamois cloth and perhaps a bit of dusting could easily have prevented this tragic series of events. It is a powerful reminder that safeguarding these relics is not just good for the institutions themselves but for the student body as a whole.

Black Christmas runs 92 minutes and is rated PG-13 for violence, terror, thematic content involving sexual assault, language, sexual material and drinking.