I love holiday horror films. To me, they demonstrate the genre's ongoing commitment to ruining even the happiest of occasions with visions of nightmarish terror. There was a time when Halloween was the only holiday associated with evil and darkness and that set it apart as the isolated capsule of fear. But then, one by one, the other, more joyful, holidays became targets for horror interpretations. It's gotten to the point that no festive celebration is without its own signature slasher or identifiable bloodbath.
We innaguarated both this project and 2010 with the delightfully bad New Year's Evil. In February, we aimed for the heart with the incredibly romantic My Bloody Valentine. Last month, the brilliant Mike Bracken took us to the Emerald Isle for a St. Patrick's Day feast of Dead Meat. Many, many thanks to Mr. Bracken for helping out last month by the way. And in honor of April's reverent and unavoidably religious celebration of dead saviors returning to life, I thought it only appropriate to probe the false meaning of Easter with the all-too-ridiculous Night of the Lepus.