The massive success of John Carpenter’s Halloween kick-started the Golden Age of Slashers from 1978-1984, and as the first of that era, Halloween essentially created the blueprint for the modern slasher. Laurie Strode became the definitive model of Final Girl behavior. But ranking high among the best Final Girls in horror alongside Laurie is Jess Bradford, a complicated heroine in one of horror’s most exceptional holiday offerings. One of the greatest horror movies period. Black Christmas and its leading protagonist, Jess, left an enduring imprint on the genre, one that played a significant influence on the slasher subgenre in particular and still offers up valuable lessons in storytelling and characterization 45 years later.
Released in 1974, Black Christmas has a simple setup on paper; over Christmas break, the residents of a sorority house are stalked and preyed upon by an unseen foe. Thanks to director Bob Clark and screenwriter Roy Moore, the plot isn’t quite so simple as it sounds. From the opening moments, we watch through the killer’s POV as he climbs the trellis and sets up camp in the Pi Kappa Sigma attic. Yet, for most of the runtime, the residents of the sorority house remain oblivious to this…until it’s too late. How do you draw out the tension and keep things plausible? It turns out that Christmas is the perfect cover for a killer lurking in the attic.
Scene-stealer Barb (Margot Kidder) is foul-mouthed and unapologetic, and she loves to hit the alcohol a little too hard. Perhaps not as much as housemother Mrs. MacHenry (Marian Waldman), who has hidden bottles of booze in the strangest of places throughout the house. Phyl (Andrea Martin), in many ways, acts as the true housemother as she looks after her fellow sisters. We never get to know Clare (Lynne Griffin), except for how much she’s loved by her boyfriend, family, and sorority sisters before she becomes the killer’s first victim in a memorable death sequence. At the center of it all is Jess Bradford (Olivia Hussey), who has a lot more on her mind than the holidays.
The ‘70s was a contentious time when it came to the topic of abortion. Roe vs. Wade and its passing in 1973 brought forth a lot of opposition, galvanized pro-lifers, and polarization among political parties. It was a messy, controversial topic (and still is). I say this not to dig into politics, but to paint a picture of how incredibly ballsy it was at the time to feature abortion as the protagonist’s central conflict. Jess is at a critical turning point in her relationship with short-tempered music student Peter (Keir Dullea); he thinks they’ll get married and she’ll support his dreams, while she has goals and plans for her future. They don’t include a baby, much to Peter’s chagrin. As he teeters between sweet-talking Jess with marriage talk and throwing tantrums when she doesn’t bend to his will, Jess is steadfast in her decision. Perhaps it’s because she’s been accustomed to dealing with a strong personality like Peter’s that she’s such a determined fighter in the film’s final act.
Jess compartmentalizes well, too. Black Christmas does a stellar job showing the bond among the Pi Kappa Sigma sisters, and Jess consistently shows up for her friends. She helps Barb through an asthma attack, participates in the park search for missing local Janis Quaife, comforts a crying Phyl over Clare, bears the brunt of the obscene phone calls plaguing the house, and aids the police in both Clare’s disappearance and tracing the phone calls. She’s doesn’t just have a good head on her shoulders; she’s kind-hearted, too.
All of this works two-fold. Getting to know Jess on this level, as well as all the girls, means we care what happens to them. It also serves as a useful distraction from the imminent danger lurking within their own home, rendering the scares more potent in the process. We’ve known from the get-go that the killer has been hanging out in the house, yet Sergeant Nash’s warning is bone-chilling all the same: “Jess, the caller is in the house. The calls are coming from the house!” Her dawning realization of what that means, and the subsequent terror, is palpable. And yet, with safety only steps away, she instead grabs a weapon and heads upstairs to wake her sleeping sisters, concerned for their well-being and unaware it’s already too late.
Some of horror’s best heroes are imperfect and complex. We love Sidney Prescott not just for her ferocity and strong will to live, but that her grief over the loss of her mother ripples through every relationship she has. Alice Johnson overcomes shyness and insecurities likely compounded by an alcoholic father to kick Freddy Krueger’s ass. Laurie Strode’s struggle with PTSD in 2018’s Halloween proved just as riveting as her rival’s latest killing spree. Jess set a precedent; her complicated relationship status and decision to terminate an unwanted pregnancy played a direct role in the film’s final act. It also made her feel like a human being rather than merely a character. Not least of all because she made one final, fatal error in the film’s conclusion. Like Jess, the killer wasn’t so easily finished off in a tidy little bow, either, leaving open-ended questions looming for decades. So much so that a 2006 remake attempted to fill in those blanks.
Forty-five years later, the legacy of both Black Christmas and Jess Bradford remains a highlight for horror and yuletide terror. Jess Bradford is an original Final Girl for the ages.
