Slasher movies have been deeply tied into holidays since the (arguable) first, Black Christmas, turned a day of celebration into a nightmare for sorority sisters who just wanted to party and have an abortion. Since then, Christmas has remained a favorite for holiday-themed slashers, among those set around Halloween, Valentine’s Day, April Fools…virtually every every holiday has been accounted for. Jewish horror fans have been mostly left out in the cold, until now with Eben McGarr’s Hanukkah.

Hanukkah feels like a throwback to the heyday slashers of the ’70s and ’80s, from the score by Harry Manfredini to the stunts coordinated by Kane Hodder. But it also feels modern with its dialogue, characters, the rich colors and a storyline that doesn’t strictly follow all the “slasher rules.” Hanukkah’s protagonist, “self-hating Jew” Adam (Robert Felsted Jr.) would have been Victim #2 in an ’80s slasher, but here it’s a different story with a killer working throughout the Festival of Lights.

(Note: As a Gentile, my Judaic knowledge is somewhat limited, but while Hanukkah is steeped in Jewish terms and traditions, McGarr’s script uses context clues and simple explanations so I never felt overly confused. That said, I’m sure I missed some references that knowledgeable Jews would appreciate.)

The opening eight minutes are a microcosm of the entire film – some great material mired in so-so choices thanks to a micro-budget. The film opens in the ’80s on the last night of Hanukkah. Serial killing, head-collecting Judah Lazarus (Sid Haig, THX 1138, The Devil’s Rejects) returns to a horror house where he strips, walks past his nude wife (Caroline Williams, Texas Chainsaw Massacre II, Hatchet III) chained inside a bloody bathtub, and prepares to sacrifice his eight-year-old son, Obadiah, who’s clutching a teddy bear. Visuals are stark and powerful, and Caroline Williams’ screams feel too real.

In contrast, Lazarus is a quiet, sickly man with pathos staining his eyes and a religious furor motivating his every motion. I can’t help but wonder if this was edited after Sid Haig passed away, because it feels as if every frame that was filmed is included in this opening scene. It is so very slow. While I appreciate what’s on the screen, I can’t help but feel that a minute or two could be cut for pacing.

Fast-forward thirty-something years and we’re introduced to Adam, a New York slacker who blows off Hanukkah dinner to drive two hours into the Catskills with three friends for a “fuck-fest” party. Adding insult to the holiday injury, he leaves his roommate Josh to have an awkward candlelit dinner alone with his girlfriend’s mom (PJ Soles of original Halloween and Carrie fame in a fun cameo).

Aside from a trio of Russians, hardly anyone shows up to the fuck fest party. Obadiah Lazarus, now grown into a hulking man and just as fanatical as his father was, decrees them “bad Jews” and starts picking them off one at a time. They’re basically clueless until Rabbi Amon Feiste (Charles Fleischer, Who Framed Roger Rabbit?, the original Nightmare on Elm Street) shows up late into the second act.

It’s a brutal film, and very funny, which results in a wildly inconsistent tone. Scenes jump from zany dialogue to gruesome torture. This is never more obvious than when Feiste explains Obadiah’s backstory to Adam and he cracks jokes. It’s almost like one of Pete Davidson’s recurring Chad sketches on Saturday Night Live.

This isn’t a simple case of setting a murder spree during a Jewish holiday. Jewish traditions are vital to the storyline and to the horror. Obadiah is a man of deep faith, however completely misguided it is. His menorah is made from the bones of his victims, as is his skull yarmulke. His observation of the Sabbath creates an incredibly tense scene for one of his victims that is brilliant in its simplicity. The Sabbath rule also allows Adam to crack a Gremlins joke that observant Jews can’t drive, can’t work, can’t eat after midnight, or get wet.

While steeped in slasher traditions of old, the movie never feels more modern and subversive than when focusing on Adam’s best friend Judy (Louise Rosealma), a tattooed lesbian. When one character condemns Judy, Adam cites Judaic laws against incest, threesomes, and man-on-man action, but reasons there’s nothing forbidding woman-on-woman love. The banter between Adam and Amanda always works, especially in a meta moment when they discuss the need for more Jewish horror movies and riff on titles that should be made: The Last Synagogue on the Left, for example. Or how about Gefilte Flesh and You’ll Bleed a Latke? The bit feels like jokes writer/director Eben McGarr has probably made with his friends after a drink or two.

It’s important to note that the film doesn’t read as anti-Judaic. When Feiste explains why Obadiah Lazarus is murdering Adam’s friends, he points out that it’s “according to [Obadiah’s] interpretation” of their religion. This theme is repeated when Adam defends Judy by citing the condemner’s inconsistent views. Logically, one shouldn’t be able to pick and choose which religious tenets to follow. The film only vilifies fanatics who choose to hurt others. Caroline Williams singing a song of mourning and the cameo by Dick Miller (A Bucket of Blood, Gremlins) as Rabbi Walter Paisley serve as beautiful representations of the Jewish faith.

Besides the wild tonal shifts, I was often very confused by character relations and general blocking. This will probably be less of a problem for me on repeat viewings (I’m sure there will be plenty). A few times, we don’t see several interactions and are told later that certain people met and talked. It goes to the show and not tell rule of writing. Additionally, a character that was left stranded at a gas station without any money pops up later and mentions she got a cap to her house and then drove there. Without any money? And what was the point of getting stranded if she then gets to the party without incident?

There’s a scene near the end of the film in which someone is basically written out of the movie when he does something that feels completely out of character. The blocking, again, feels off, as if the two actors aren’t in the same room. I have to assume some of the clunkiness was due to filming problems and McGarr having to make the best with some behind the scenes factors.

My few complaints aside, Eben McGarr has crafted a witty and surprising script and striking visuals that make me eager to see more from him, especially since there’s a great cameo at the end by magician Rob Zabrecky that sets up a sequel. Hanukkah is definitely a recommended addition to your holiday viewing.