Violent Night

It’s like attending a party where no two guests are on sufficiently good terms to manage even 20 minutes of civilised conversation. “Perfect for Christmas Day then,” I hear you say. Too cynical.

112 minutes of your life rather than a day, which is a small gift...

Violent Night offers up a timely amalgam: It is torture porn that is also a morality play.

Terribly violent, if you have a weak stomach, this may not be the film you want to see.

David Harbour makes a particularly good cranky, butt-kicking Santa, in a movie that offers the sort of shared experience that should bring theaters some much-needed cheer.

"Behind all the gore-splattered walls and domestic rancor lies a sweet-and-sour bedtime story of good triumphing over evil."

No sane person will consider Violent Night a perennial classic, but Harbour inspires enough ho-ho-hos and cheeky holiday mayhem to warrant a watch.

If there’s one thing about Harbour that has always sung, it’s the charisma he can generate with just about material and any actor on screen. He’s also a very big man, standing tall and making a dad bod seem more desirable than Zac Efron ever could.

If I want a bad Santa, I’ll watch Bad Santa. That’s not to say there isn’t some measure of worthy seasonal jeer in Violent Night.

It’s not a holiday classic like Die Hard, but it is a decent temporary remedy for the mandatory holiday cheer.