Jack Frost viewing


    Hello and welcome to this mutant viewing of an underappreciated undermade “horror” film, Jack Frost! As I said in my review, this movie would be unbearably awful except that it treats its horror element with a bold twist of messed-up humor. Case in point, the opening title sequence. As the camera pans around a Christmas tree (with ornaments boasting the credits), we have some weird old uncle telling a dumb horror story to a falsetto little “girl”, all to the tune of “The Elements.” I don‘t know which voice is more creepy, but it definitely gives this flick an odd start


Shannon Elizabeth — Nadia of the American Pie movies — gets her own ornament.


    Already we‘ve crossed over between two fairy tales: Jack Frost (with the name) and that “Jack be nimble” Mother Goose rhyme.


    Mike Deak: Snowman Supervisor. Is this the sort of thing Mr. Deak brings up during a quiet lull in dinner party conversation? “Well, that‘s a mighty fine snowman you boys have out on the front lawn, but did I ever tell you about when I was a full-fledged SNOWMAN SUPERVISOR?”


    Our first snowman (in the snow globe). I think it‘s the first, at least.


    Seven seconds later, our second snowman (on the front of the truck). Speaking of the truck, what kind of vehicle is this? The driver and the other guy see
    m to be sharing the same seat, unless they‘re spooning while driving, and the title on the side of the vehicle is “State Executional Transfer Vehicle”. Executional? Is that, you know, a real word? And would prisons really want to telegraph that this truck’s only purpose is to cart around people about to die? The black guy uses a bunch of tinsel to wipe down the perfectly clear front window, which only has one windshield wiper. To top it all off, this truck looks like a converted milk truck more than anything else. (Snowman #3 hanging between the two snuggling men on the dash)


    I like how the lights in the back of the “State Executional Transfer Vehicle” are flickering, as if the storm is affecting the power line the truck is dragging behind it.


Cheesy quip, coming right up!

“Snomonton County: Snowman Capitol of the Midwest” Aside fron the fact that we have Snowman sighting #4 (on the sign) and the dumbest name for a town ever, we‘re soon going to be finding out the Snowmonton doesn‘t even have snow in this movie. What a loser town.


Here we have The Crash. Aside from it‘s completely illogical setup — a truck carrying a prisoner to be executed that night and a “Genetics Research” pickup whose driver is pouring coffee during this horrible soap flake storm — it‘s well-done, stylistically. The “tink” noise as the trucks collide remind me of the same thing in Top Secret. And there‘s snowman #5 flying through one of the cabs.


    And here we have the last of “human” Jack. Honestly, Jack‘s better off as a snowman, because his human self is way too over-the-top with those bulging eyeballs and last second one-liners. Oh wait, he doesn‘t lose the quips. Darn. So what happens is the Genetics truck spews all over Jack, Jack goes through about five different makeup sessions, and eventually melts into the snow (his decaying skeleton still struggles around, amazingly enough). Here, in the seventh minute, the filmmakers are asking the audience to stretch their bounds of believability by accepting that Jack, the genetic goo, and the snow somehow bond together to make Snow Jack. Actually, the filmmakers probably knew nobody‘s going to watch this with less than one eyebrow raised, so they went all out
The Incredible Dolt and his Death Soup
    on theunbelievability scale. The animation of Jack bonding with the snow is a classic $3 bargain buy.


    Our hero, Sheriff Dudley Do-Right, and his flashback to when he caught Jack. Jack makes a good point — he can‘t get his license if the sheriff won‘t let him go to the car. Jack‘s incredibly antagonistic even before he‘s caught… so much for playing it cool, I guess. So Sheriff Dudley is tormented by the fear of Jack claiming revenge on the oaf who arrested him for peeing, which gives our hero about ten flaws too many. What a wimp.


    Little kid has a snowman hand puppet (hurh?) making snowman #6. While his dad is a dull coward, his child is a genuine moron, as we soon find out. Sheriff doesn‘t notice the “State Executional Transfer Vehicle” even though it‘s in plain sight, and he meekly moves along when the “Feds” (a guy in a sheriff jacket) tells him to. Wimp.


    The snowman motif really takes off in the Sheriff‘s kitchen, where he has a snowman sugar pot thing (#7), snowman on a wreath (#8), snowman by the stove (#9) and two snowmen as part of the Santa Christmas Tree (#10 and #11). In the background we hear another Christmas tune, which is one of the things I love about this movie — it picks nice trippy versions of Christmas classics to play as the soundtrack. Notice how the mom is oblivious to whatever her kid is doing. On the stove. What is Will Robinson doing there? We‘ll soonfind out!


    Two parents in the room, and no one seems to notice that the kid is mixing things together including something that comes out of a huge can that definitely has no place in the kitchen. Snowman coffee mug (#12). “Jack Frost is gone,” Sheriff says. “Like magic?” little kid asks. “That‘s right!” mom agrees. Yes, as long as you consider “chemicals burning through your skin and melting you into painful goo” magic.


“My dad‘s a hero!” Boy is this kid deluded. The Sheriff really reminds me of pre-Biff-punching George McFly, with his breathy modesty. Snowman #13 (a sort of parachute snowman by the curtains).

Many snowmen, no snow.


    We get a look at what the kid is “cooking” on the stove. At first glances, it‘s chocolate oatmeal and marshmallows. But what‘s the secret ingredient? The suspense is killing us, but not as much as what could‘ve happened to the Sheriff, had he eaten it instead of taking the offered sample and putting it into a baggie for lunch. Is this kid remedial, or do they honestly not notice he‘s an alien? I‘m going to call snowman #14 between the curtains, but it‘s kind of small and I‘m not 100% sure.


    The Snowman Building Competition. Makes sense, for the “Snowman Capital of the Midwest”, except again that there‘s really no snow here. Anywhere. The filmmakers tried their hardest, but what few “drifts” of snow against the curb make it painfully obvious there‘s none anywhere else. So where do they get the snow to make these snowmen? And do I have to count them all? Snowman #15 (in upstairs window) and at least six snowmen in their gate, kept from roaming free (#16-21).


    Shannon Elizabeth alert! She‘s a hick, but she‘s still cute. Snowman #22 in the background next to the fake candle. The Sheriff shows up at the “competition” and starts grinning like the doofus he is. Holy crap, I love this movie. We see some of the other entries, including a snow fox-man and a snow woman with snow boobs. The “snow” looks really fuzzy.


    I think the guy in the hat is the mayor, who in movies is always an older, pudgy white guy, and his wife is a ditzy girl who‘s making a snowmanangel. I like how the husband is aghast at her stupidity. Maybe there’s something in the water in this town. Snowman #23 (under the snowman in the window).
Arrest the Orange Earflap Dude!


    Here‘s a setup for a very lame joke later on, as Tommy tells the Sheriff a lightly naughty joke. Which the Sheriff will repeat later, and mess up the punch line, but won‘t notice cause he‘s missing some snowcells in his snowbrain. Snowman (actually it‘s a femalesnowman) in the store window – #24.


    If you‘re wondering why the Sheriff is aimlessly rambling through town, it‘s because we have to meet all the people who are about to die. Now we meet Paul, future corpse number six. “Hi Paul!”


    In another “Jack is haunting my very soul” flashback, the Sheriff seems to remember Jack as having an incredibly large booger hanging from his nose. Don‘t believe me? Check it out.


    A second reference to the Sheriff having to “dig his way” out of his driveway that morning. Guh? THERE’S NO SNOW. ANYWHERE. Is he digging with toothpicks? Oh… and watch closely in the background. A guy — wearing hunter orange earflaps and thick glasses — walks out of the store holding an oversized Christmas tree ornament big enough to go on Godzilla‘s tree. I think an extra is stealing from the set.


    Shannon Elizabeth and Tommy talk while casually resting their hands on the boobs of the snowgirl. Made slightly more disturbing by the number of times Shannon‘s eyes flicker from Tommy to said boobs. Is she sexually attracted to snow? Is that what this scene is trying to communicate?


As the Sheriff‘s car pulls up to the station, we see (again) that what little snow is on the ground appears to be clinging for dear life under the brutal 55-degree sun. I sure hope he doesn‘t get buried in an avalanche and have to “dig himself out” again! Three snowman decorations hanging from the station‘s gutters (#25-27).

I think the snowgirl is being harassed in this scene.


    Classic scene. On his way into the station, the Sheriff wisely chucks the “bag lunch” his simpleton son prepared. But then… then his kid‘s voice “haunts” him into going back and picking it up. Sure, this will end up saving him, but he‘ll also have to learn the horrid truth behind his kid‘s questionable cooking skills. Snowman #28 on the wall right inside the door.


    Okay, this is going to kill my eyes, looking for snowmen everywhere. In the office: Snowman #29 (on the lamp), #30 (on the receptionist‘s sweater), #31 (on the printer), #32 (on the back shelf), #33 (on the back wall by the flag, very small), and #34 (a snowman paper chain). We meet the “kiss my grits” receptionist, who takes detailed memos like “Somebody Died.” Thanks, Flo.


    While you think they‘d instantly radio the sheriff for a death in such a small community, you‘d be wrong. After a leisurely morning of checking out the soap snowmen building competition, the sheriff finally gets to work by investigating the case of The Geezer Who Died On His Rocker. Which is still rocking. We also meet his deputeys, Tweedledum and Tweedledee. I‘m much too busy counting snowmen to research their character names.


    “There‘s no footprints in the snow…” *sigh* WHAT…? SNOW…? (Snowman #35 on dead guy‘s house sign)


    The Sheriff talks to FBI dude, who‘s being very unhelpful. You‘d think the FBI would be a little warmer to the guy who caught this madman, but again, you‘re not in this movie. We also meet Mad Scientist, who‘s in cahoots with FBI guy, suggesting that the accident wasn‘t so much an accident as “completely on purpose.” I‘m terribly confused. On the bright side, the FBI office is snowman-free.


Random thought: Snomonton is in the Midwest, right? Do the trees know that? Because they‘re incredibly tall pine trees, and they might have gotten lost on their way back to Oregon.

It must’ve taken them DAYS to dig out of that snowstorm!


    I‘m not including Jack himself in with the snowman count. But I like how The Elements theme is reprised, only deeper and more menacing. Menacing classical music!


    Oh, the lil chef is at it again! He‘s made another mess, trying to make “gingerbread snowmen” (#36 as a snowmaker, and #37 as one of the cookies). The parents should invest in stronger straps and restraints. This kid doesn‘t get how awful he is. But since his self-esteem seems to be tied up with his cooking skillz, his parents are reluctant to tell him the truth. “You SUCK!” (#38 on a kid‘s drawing on the kitchen wall)


    A mini-Midwestern riot in the Sheriff‘s office, possibly caused by Orange Earflaps Guy, who lurks yet again in the background. Snowman #39 above the fake fireplace, and #40 right below that. So far, we‘ve averaged about two snowmen per minute. The Sheriff gets the best hick line in the movie: “It‘s gonna be a gawl-dang turkey shoot.” Those redneck Midwestern Oregonians!


    More snowmen count in the sheriff‘s office: #41 (around the fireplace), #42 and #43 (Christmas tree), #44 (below some hanging cards).


The kid goes out to decorate the “snowman”, which is really (dum-dum-DUM) Jack Frost, but don‘t get your hopes up. We‘re not to be ridded of this little charming lad anytime soon. Instead, the kid puts on his snowman puppet over one hand and uses that as a diagram on how to decorate the real snowman. Ladies and gentlemen, here we have a kid who cannot put a carrot and some coal on three balls of snow without blueprints. Amazing.

Our plucky Gal Friday.


    If you thought that was something, then check out this boggling sequence. A group of bullying sledders come to annoy the redheaded tot — who wouldn‘t? After the head bully knocks off Jack‘s head, Jack pushes him down, causing the bully to be decapitated by a kid riding a sled on a perfectly, perfectly level stretch of street. The head doesn‘t bleed, much, and no one seems to notice that the snowman moved or now has two arms, one thrust out in a jaunty pose. The kid is scarred for life after seeing this, but that‘s okay.


I know I‘m mocking this movie a lot, and that‘s alright. I think the filmmakers want us to, it‘s part of the fun. What they did exceptionally well is providing a format for black humor that isn‘t too black or too jokey, but gets a lot of subtle touches in when you‘re least expecting them. As the cops clean up the headless boy, a very mournful instrumental of “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen” plays and a cop walks by with a head in a clear plastic baggie, with obvious drippage accumulating within.


    Oh, the mayor is a class act! First he‘s yelling at his wife for no good reason from a distance of two inches, and then he tells the sheriff that his kid has been “touched by the devil.” Gee, these “Midwesterners” are gonna have themselves a witch hunt, ayuh. Ah, it was the mayor‘s son who died. That explains these nonsensical emotions. Snowman #45 hanging on the house.


The Sheriff tells everyone to go home, and to “keep Billy in your prayers.” Headless Billy, that is. Right after he says this, he taps the shoulder of the priest who just happens to be standing right there, for no other reason than to connect the “prayer” line with a person who‘s in the business of prayers. Mr. Priest has no lines. I think this was a guy who just stopped to ask for directions, and then got forced into a scene about a gruesome headless boy against his will. At least, I‘d like to believe so.

Which one doesn’t belong?


The Sheriff sits at home, pouring over death threat notes sent by Jack, presumably before Jack died. The strange thing is, these notes are written in the old hostage letter format, by cutting out letters from various magazines and pasting them together, in order to keep the handwriting style anonymous. Yet Jack signs his notes with those letters, “Frost”. Maybe Jack had a lot of time on his hands in jail. (Snowman #46 over the Sheriff‘s shoulder)


    We‘re in the mayor‘s home, with him and his wife. Snowman #47 on the tree, #48 in lights behind her, #49 on the mantle, #50 on the lamp shade, #51 behind the mayor, #52 on the stand next to the couch, #53 in front of a diploma, and (I almost missed this) #54 on the quilt covering the couch. For a couple that just lost their only son, their attitude is more “slightly bummed” than “grief-stricken parents”. Good thing, too. They‘re gonna die soon. Jack Frost loves to rub salt into open wounds.


Shannon Elizabeth comes downstairs, so I guess she and Billy were brothers. She‘s a bit more upset about this death than mom and dad, but not so much that she doesn‘t want to go out and party. Dad, however, starts getting religiously fanatical on her, calling her a “lady of the night” and using the word “forsaking”. I‘m a Christian, and I don‘t think I‘ve ever used the word “forsaking” in any conversation. There‘s at least three other snowmen in the background, making this one of the most snowmen-filled houses we‘ve seen yet (#55-57).


    The Mayor leaves the house (snowman #58 on the door), and bumps into Jack while lighting a pipe. Jack‘s having a blast with the whole “hiding in plain sight” gag, as no one seems to find a brand-new evil-looking snowman odd. The mayor calls the unknown voice a “Christ-salting dog.” I think. Jack dispatches the mayor by thrusting the shaft of an axe down the guy‘s throat, which is at least unique in terms of axe-murders. So far, we‘ve not really seen the snowman animate in any form, except in extreme close-ups where a white mitt moves or a grin grows wider through stop-motion animation.


    We come up to the movie‘s darkest scene, but before we get into that, I counted seven other snowmen in the mayor‘s family room (#59-65). Here we learn that one of Jack‘s new powers, other than looking like Styrofoam, is to melt into puddles and move around at will. This will be important later, and there will be a test on it. The reason this scene is so dark is that Jack assaults a fairly sympathetic character, the nice (if ditzy) wife of the mayor, mother to the son who‘s just died. And widow, but she won‘t ever know that. There‘s an unwritten rule in horror movies that it‘s okay for the villain to attack people asking for it (jerks, bullies, etc.) and the main heroes, but innocents are usually off limits. Jack doesn‘t subscribe to this line of thinking, however, and goes to town on the wife by wrapping her up in lights and cords, scrunching her face in ornaments, and making her into a Christmas tree. The scene has Hawaiian music going on, which should make it more tongue-in-cheek, but they really bloody up this poor woman (up till now, the blood from deaths has been non-existent). Oh well, nothing else in this flick is this bad, so I‘ll survive.


The one deputy eats from a snowman Pez dispenser, which is probably the best snowman reference in the flick. #66.

Ha ha! Weird decapitation!


    I just noticed that the doorway inside the sheriff‘s station is lined with the “police line – do not cross” tape, cut to look like tons of snowmen. I‘m counting that as a creative #67. The FBI guy finally shows up in Snowmonton, after taking his sweet time getting here. “FBI?” the dim-witted Sheriff asks. “Sure, why not?” the FBI guy says. I like the FBI guy a lot, and I‘m trading you my “Befuddled Expression Sheriff” for one of him. Plus, he‘s got a rugged beard. Stuffed snowman in the corner (#68).


    The FBI guy refers to the corpses as “MV‘s”, a term I‘ve never heard on any cop show, ever. Neither has the Sheriff, who cocks his head to the side and whimpers like a confused puppy. “Motor Vehicles?” he asks. “Murder victims,” FBI guy says in a tone stating, “I certainly did not just make up that term.” As FBI guy passes the poofy-haired receptionist, we‘re treated to a crapload of snowman coffee mugs (#69), snowman magnets (#70-71) and two other snowmen on the table (#72-73).


We get a very cool camera shot through water (POV of the floor looking up through a puddle). Mad Scientist sticks a leftover prop from Ghostbusters in the water, and determines Jack was there. Brilliant.


    FBI guy wants to know what Sheriff and Doc are talking about, and the Sheriff — bless his soul — gets in a good crack about “tractor pulls.”


Priest guy is there — guess he still hasn‘t gotten his directions, at least not until the filming wraps. Sheriff pats him on the shoulder as they go into the town meeting and remarks, “We‘re gonna keep a close flock tonight.” Apparently, being around clergy turns Sheriff into the King James Version of Stupidity.

The infamous “shoulder massage” scene.


    With four people dead, the town (population 24, I counted them) explodes in applause for no reason as the Sheriff takes the stage. (Snowman #74 behind the curtains, #75 on the Sheriff‘s coffee mug, #76 on podium, #77 on piano) The sheriff waves like he‘s running for President. A cute girl grins. Death! It‘s fun!


    Hahahaha… Paul‘s gone nuts and is “killing” the snowmen in the snowman competition. “F****er‘s a snowman!” he cries, then punches in a head. FBI comes in, punches Paul, and brings out a load of Jerk to share with everyone.


    Just when you thought this movie couldn‘t get any better, it does. Dopey deputy drives along, and slams on the brakes when he sees Jack holding a stop sign. Even the cops must obey traffic snowmen. A weird western piano version of “Deck The Halls” plays. Then Jack gets in the car and runs over the deputy. There‘s really nothing cinema can ever do to top the sight of a huge snowman driving a police car, so they might as well give up now.


    Sheriff steps up his passive-aggressive campaign against the cold-hearted FBI guy, and I count two more snowmen on the walls of the office (#78-79). Another random thought: none of the places have good Christmas decorations; every place looks decorated with bargain-basement lights and leftover tinsel. Like my house on Christmas! *sobs*


In an effort to reuse sets as much as possible, Shannon Elizabeth and Tommy break into the Sheriff‘s house to make out. Let me repeat that. On a night where there have been multiple homicides, including Shannon‘s entire family, these two horndogs break into the sheriff‘s house for no good reason. Oh, will selfish sexual appetites ever get their comeuppance? No, probably not.


    This begins the most popular scene in Jack Frost. Shannon Elizabeth, aroused beyond control at her family‘s demise, begins a strip-tease in the house of the sheriff she just broke into. This strip-tease is set to an instrumental “Twelve Days of Christmas”, which is appropriate, since she
Pez rocks!
    has about sixteen layers of clothes on. It goes on forever. And at the end, she‘s not even that naked. Unless you consider long johns as naked. Then, for no reason, she goes to take a bath. In the sheriff‘s house.


    But first, she uses a hair dryer before she gets wet. Not her own hair dryer, mind you. I think she just wanted to run up the electric bill.


    After a long boring bit of Tommy saying “Who‘s out there?” and not getting a response — do they ever? — Jack comes in, we get “FrostyVision”, and he shoots icicles through Tommy. Do you like pulsing brain matter? Why do I ask? No reason.


    With both her family and boyfriend dead, exuberant Shannon gets in the suspiciously filled bathtub (no explicit nudity here, except for one saucy ankle). Probably not the best idea, as bathtubs are filled with Jack‘s natural element, but it gives us a very memorable death scene. A carrot bubbles up to the top, then the bath freezes around her, Jack emerges, and sort of crushes her to death in a sex parody. You don’t want to know where Jack’s carrot is; they sort of left it up to your imagination. Outside, Orange Earflap guy waves on. I think he‘s the real mastermind to the killings. By the way, Jack uses a variation on a pun that James Bond used when he won our award for Worst Double Entendre.


    The receptionist calls FBI guy “Bad Manners” and then refuses to fill his coffee cup when he absently reaches out for it. Heh. Interestingly enough, FBI guy mentions that “there‘s a storm moving in from Denver”, which really begs the question of where Snowmonton is. The Rockies? That would make sense for the trees and some of the rugged scenery, but the last I checked, Colorado wasn‘t considered “Midwestern” by any sane person. The storm really concerns them, as they may get another two millimeters dumped on this already snowed-in town.
…in the name of love!


    Oh, it‘s on! Jack begins his assault on the Sheriff‘s office. FBI guy learns that firearms are useless, but he keeps shooting at puddles anyway, because that makes him happy. Sheriff uses his limited intelligence to wield a hair dryer against him. You know, there hasn‘t been a new snowman in a long time. We need a change of venue. By the way, they end up blowing up the jail cell with hair spray. The things you learn!


    To draw out the tension of the scene, Sheriff takes two hours to cross the jail cell and pull out a key ring from a door. He‘s got a newfound fear of water, the putz. As the place is about to go up, Paul finally let‘s them know he‘s in there, and they should let his crazy butt out. Ooh! More tension!


    The back of the jail cell dumps the good guys out on the street… in front of the church/snowman competition area. This is news to us, as previously everyone had to drive from town to get to wherever the sheriff‘s office was, but I guess that was a really long jail cell. I‘ve been watching this 90 minute movie for more then two and a half hours now. I‘m tired and my fingers are sore. Whine.


He’s only got his learner’s permit for vehicular manslaughter.
    With Jack blown up, the credits can‘t be far away! And so we relax, and take in snowman #80 (lit, by the church door).


    Crap! We got 20 more minutes? Jack comes back all Picasso-like (his words, not mine), and terror is reborn. Even more disturbing than the snowman‘s rebirth is that the poofy-haired receptionist grabs the deputy’s hand and takes him back to her Lair of Chains. Even the boldest of us shudder.


Whoa… a new set! In the church-that-doesn‘t-look-like-a-church. Snowmen #81 and #82 flash by the camera as we pan over, and #83 is on a coat rack. Sheriff goes all psycho on the oddly reluctant Mad Scientist, but gets moral support from FBI guy. Mad Scientist shares the “science” behind Jack‘s transformation, which has to do with an acid that will bond human DNA to ordinary material, “allowing us to be resurrected in the future” if there’s a global holocaust. Um, resurrected by whom, exactly, if there’s no one left to do the resurrecting? Also, the soul turns out to be a chemical.


    The Big Showdown. FBI guy starts to tell a story of “back in ‘79…” but he gets shushed and we miss out on a good story. Darn it. Jack comes barreling in, but our good guys have an ample supply of hair dryers (if only Shannon knew!). The Priest guy blesses (?) Jack with a small hair dryer or space heater or something. We don‘t see Jack melting so much as just hear Jack talking about how he‘s melting. So, he‘s dead, right?
Shannon Elizabeth has a dandruff problem.


    Right? Then how come there‘s still 15 minutes left?


    Jack re-emerges. Somehow. He makes quick work of FBI guy (by biting him), but Mad Scientist is more interested in how Jack feels about this transformation.


    Blowing the special effects budget, Jack emerges from within the Mad Scientist to attack Sheriff. Sheriff and kid get in the car, Jack melts his way in, but the two don‘t think to actually leave the car until it‘s almost too late.


    And now we come to the payoff. Sheriff throws the baggie full of the questionable goop at Jack, who promptly begins screaming. How come, you ask? That‘s what the Sheriff wants to know, and he asks the kid for the special ingredient. “I didn‘t want you to get cold,” the kid simpers. “It‘s antifreeze.” WHAT? While this turn of events is most fortunate, consider what would‘ve happened had we not stumbled into a snowman massacre. Going unsupervised by his parents, our precocious chef bakes a lethal batch of oatmeal, knowing what antifreeze is, but not realizing that stuff under the sink tends to hollow you out inside. So was the kid trying to kill his dad, or what? And what were in those cookies he baked earlier? Sheriff isn‘t too upset at his poor parenting skills, but is gleeful that they have a master weapon to use.
Do-over, do-over!


    Our other long-term setup comes to a head, as the joke that Tommy told Sheriff back at the beginning returns. Only Sheriff gets the punch line wrong, and assumedly feels like more of a dork than he already did. Leave the corny one-liners to our bad guy, please.


    Inside the church, Sheriff rediscovers that Jack can melt himself under the door. C‘mon, you‘ve seen him do this ten times already! Monkeys learn faster than this. Sheriff grabs a number of snowman kid drawings (#84-89) to stuff under the crack. Surprisingly, construction paper doesn‘t slow water down too much.


    While Paul busts into his store display — where piles of antifreeze jugs fill the window — Sheriff runs around the top floor of the church trying doors. Now here‘s the thing, they sort of imply this whole big centerpiece building is a church, but they don‘t go out of their way to prove it. We‘ve never seen a sanctuary of any sort, and on the top floor it looks like apartments (someone shouts “Go away! We‘re busy!” as the Sheriff pounds on the doors). Maybe it‘s a combo church-brothel, I don‘t know.


    Jack shows some variation on the whole melting-under-the-door trick by blowing into the room in snowflakes. He impales Sheriff, but that doesn‘t bother Sheriff too much. The truck shows up full of antifreeze and Sheriff pushes himself and Jack through a window, falls into the truck

    and pretends like he‘s struggling with wet toilet paper for a while. Guess that massive stabbing wound likes antifreeze poured into it.


    In his final act, Jack nearly kills the annoying brat, but fails. Crap, and I wanted a happy ending.


They pour the antifreeze-Jack swill into the jugs and bury him in a cemetery. Priest guy presides, wondering if giving a funeral service to antifreeze is covered in his job description. A semi-spooky rendition of “Silent Night” is sung by Jack on the soundtrack. In the background, we see Orange Earflap guy pouring one of the jugs of antifreeze into his car‘s radiator. And nobody notices, because they all have a death wish. Also, “the cavalry has arrived” is mentioned for the second time in five minutes. Sheriff has a bit of a hand sling for a massive torso wound. Good to know he’s that resilient.

Thyroid problem, mister?


    End credits! There‘s actually quite a few jokes sprinkled in with the scroll, in the form of in-joke quotes nobody’s gonna get except for the cast and crew. 89 snowmen, plus Jack makes 90! Thanks for tuning in to this Mutant Viewing, please tip your waiters and waitresses, and good night!

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