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December 1, 2011

Movie Review: Santa With Muscles (1996)

Welcome to the first annual, Cinema Head Cheese Presents: The David Hayes 12 Days of Christmas Crap Review-a-Palooza! All right, Cheesers, the plan is for me to write a hilarious review of a horrible holiday movie every day for the next 12 days. We’ll see how well this works, my eyes and ears may look like a bowl of figgy pudding by the end of this, but the plan is in motion and there is no better way to kick this off than with the 24 inch pythons, brother!

On the first day of Christmas, the Head Cheese gave to me… douchebaggery.

I still don’t know how someone thought this was a good idea. There had to have been an investor to put up the millions of dollars that it took to make this. There then had to be a writer to buy into the idea. A director would then sign on. Finally, this movie signed itself a star. A great big star. A star whose light burned so brightly that not even blind people are safe from this film. Of course, I’m speaking of the former WWF World Heavyweight Champion, slammer of giants, father of the incomparably untalented Brooke Hogan and facilitator of underage drunk driving accidents. That’s right, folks, the producers of Santa With Muscles got themselves a real live superstar. The orange golem himself, Hulk Hogan.

Buy Santa With Muscles on DVD!

I’m going to try and breeze through this ‘plot’ synopsis, so if I leave out a few nuances and ignore the layers and layers of metaphorical relevance please forgive me. All right… an evil corporate dude with huge muscles that likes to hunt runs from the police, gets amnesia and wakes up in a mall dressed as Santa Claus. The dude then assumes he is the real Santa Claus and goes on a crusade to help an orphanage (featuring a very young Mila Kunis in her second film role) aided by Garrett Morris, who, in all fairness, was probably happy for the paycheck at this point. The orphanage is threatened by evil scientist, Ed Begley, Jr and Santa goes slapstick Rambo on the evil organization saving the kids. Santa Clod eventually comes out of the amnesia (and I wish I could catch it after watching this) and the children all end up living with him in his mansion… ‘cause he’s rich, remember?

There are so many places to place the blame for this flick. Watching it is the visual equivalent of tasting fruitcake and I point the finger at the big orange golem. There are three writers credited on this film and rumor has it that the original one sued to have his or her name taken off. I’m not interested enough to do the requisite research to find out just who that was, but it smells a bit like Standard Hogan Procedure. The big guy has a penchant for taking a good idea, injecting it with steroids, and dropping the big leg on it. For example (and this is the short list): Thunder in Paradise, Mr. Nanny, Secret Agent Club, Suburban Commando, the final years of World Championship Wrestling… the list is endless. I will give Hogan a minor pass in regard to Santa With Muscles since the director, John Murlowski, is responsible for another film in the 12 Days but the proof, man, the proof is there. Imagine a stocking stuffed with the Complete Hulk Hogan Collection. Kids would line up at Wal-Mart to trade it in for coal.

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