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Bad Santa

Billy Bob Thornton is one sick St. Nick in a magnificently sleazy holiday film.

The title Bad Santa doesn't come close to describing what Billy Bob Thornton does to the image of jolly old St. Nick. But Bad, Drunken, Profane, Kinky, Caustic, Criminal Santa Who Hates Children wouldn't fit on a theater marquee.

Introducing the anti-Elf, a holiday offering that doesn't give a rat's humbug how many viewers it offends along the way to being the funniest movie of 2003. Give credit, or blame from the faint-hearted, to director Terry Zwigoff, whose previous work in Crumb and Ghost World established him as a frisky defender of misanthropes.

Don't expect warm and fuzzies or snowball fights or some last-minute redemption of a grinch. Bad Santa is a chronically cruel comedy without a shred of decency or sensitivity. And it all rides on the scrawny, tattooed shoulders of Thornton, whose magnificently scuzzy performance will never be forgotten.

Maybe it's just the costume. Thornton's wiry physique isn't tailored for a Santa Claus suit, making him look like a bum who found the outfit in a dumpster. A perpetual 5 o'clock shadow - make that 2 a.m. - kills the white beard effect. Those oversized boots were made for staggering. Some heftier, jollier Santa impersonator probably kept it clean and pressed. The urine and vomit stains were Willie T. Soke's idea.

Willie is Thornton's character, a thief using the Santa disguise and a dwarf accomplice named Marcus (Tony Cox), dressed as an elf, to gain after-hours access to shopping mall safes. It's the open mall hours that get under Willie's skin: an endless stream of wet-nosed brats either too shy or too greedy to waste much time with. Actually, they seem to be very nice children, but Bad Santa is squarely in Willie's corner. And Willie spends most of his off-hours at the corner bar.

During a gig in Phoenix, Willie and Marcus raise the suspicions of a timid mall manager (the late John Ritter) and his security chief (Bernie Mac, not around much, but funny). Willie lucks into a bartender (Lauren Graham) with a Santa fetish. Some fat kid (Brett Kelly) with a bully bull's-eye on his back and a father in prison thinks Willie really is Santa Claus and invites him home. Grandma (Cloris Leachman) won't mind. She won't even notice in her state. And the brats just keep on coming.

That summary only scratches the surface (or depths) of the humor concocted by screenwriters John Requa and Glenn Ficarra, who must be working out frustrations after penning the script for Cats and Dogs, an example of how wholesome family comedy can go horribly wrong. The dialogue in Bad Santa bubbles with bile without sympathy for anyone, not even the fat kid - Willie doesn't care what his name is. Profanity is used like punctuation. Sex is raunchy, and suicide is a Christmas Eve activity.

Thornton never backs down from anything the writers throw at him. Bad Santa takes everything beyond tasteful limits. It's amazing to see someone pull off such an unsavory role - and embarrassing to realize how much a supposedly level-headed viewer can laugh at such material. You can practically hear Willie say as he staggers out of sight: Merry Christmas to all, and to all a directive to perform a sexual act that is anatomically impossible.

Bad Santa

Grade: A-

Director: Terry Zwigoff

Cast: Billy Bob Thornton, Tony Cox, Bernie Mac, John Ritter, Lauren Graham, Brett Kelly, Lauren Tom

Screenplay: John Requa, Glenn Ficarra

Rating: R; harsh profanity, crude humor, sexual situations, alcohol abuse, violence

Running time: 93 min.