UnLeashed Theatre Co. serves up a scrappy holiday mashup that’s more Hallmark than horror until its frantic, bloody finale.

If you’ve ever watched a Hallmark Christmas movie and wished it would suddenly break into an ’80s slasher, UnLeashed Theatre Co.’s Christmas Movie The Play: The Beginning promises exactly that. This 75-minute bar-theatre holiday horror romp, directed by Em Perez and written by Perez and Zach Perez, tours breweries and unconventional venues throughout the metro area; however, the experience is more on the Hallmark side of the spectrum, for better and worse.

At the Junkyard Social Club performance I attended in Boulder, the company leaned into its bar-theatre roots with a raucous pre-show sing-along. To warm up the audience, Perez and fellow UnLeashed Theatre Co. co-leader Jo McIver Lee led a short carol sing-along with rewritten holiday classics like “Jingle Beer Rock” and “O Holy Beer.”

And that looseness is part of the show’s appeal, as the vibe is scrappy, inexpensive and clearly designed to be enjoyed with a beer in hand.

But once the play proper begins, the production sticks so faithfully to its small-town Christmas-movie template that the promised horror elements barely register until the final stretch. The end result is a clever, occasionally very funny spoof that I often wished would cut through its earnest setup faster to get to the blood-soaked absurdity that awaits.

Sophia Gulley and Zesty Lythgoe | Photo UnLeashed Theatre

A Hallmark setup with hints of horror

The play follows Delphina (a wonderfully grounded Elizabel Riggs), a big-city corporate striver forced to return to her rural hometown after her great aunt’s death. Riggs smartly calibrates Delphina’s arc, beginning as a brittle, Christmas-hating workaholic and gradually thawing as she reconnects with her past and with a suspiciously handsome antique-shop owner named Thomas (Carson Phillip Leaf).

If you know the genre, you know the beats: a small-town fundraiser, a friend who loves to drink (Jo McIver Lee, also handling props and costumes), a helpful mayor (a standout Charles Ewing) and a local ne’er-do-well or two. The production heavily relies on this earnest Hallmark structure, with much of the roughly hour-long story planting the seeds for its supernatural turn.

That balance doesn’t entirely work. Despite being marketed as a Hallmark–slasher hybrid, the play keeps its horror elements buried until the last 10–15 minutes. The setup is amusing in a winking, wordplay-heavy way (think 30 Rock more than belly-laugh sketch comedy), but the script lingers too long on corporate jokes and romantic jitters, especially given the minimal technical infrastructure and straightforward staging.

The ensemble around Riggs brings a lively, easygoing energy that fits the show’s DIY holiday spirit. Zesty Lythgoe, who cycles through Lorne, Norm and eventually Santa, provides excellent comic relief, popping in and out with eccentric one-liners and a shifting persona.

As Mayor Donaldson, Charles Ewing steals nearly every scene they are in. Ewing’s running gag about singlehandedly managing every town service is sharply played, and their death fall ranks among the evening’s funniest moments simply because they commit so completely to the bit.

Ian McCance also does solid work in his dual roles. As Gary, Delphina’s checked-out corporate boss, he nails the entitled, golf-club-wielding aloofness; as Tucker, the town’s resident nepo baby and overgrown middle-school bully, he leans into pathetic desperation without ever pushing too hard.

And Sophia Gulley’s demon is a highlight of the final act. Gulley’s snarling and physically striking performance instantly shifts the show’s tone from cozy to chaotic.

Leaf’s Thomas fares less well than his scene partners. He’s written as the obligatory Hallmark hunk whose darker motives slowly surface, but Leaf reveals that sinister edge far too early. From his first scene onward, he plays Thomas with such jittery intensity that the later “twist” lands with a thud. Instead of a charming hometown crush who gradually becomes unsettling, he arrives already vibrating with creepiness, making Delphina’s interest, and especially her decision to keep inviting him into her home, feel puzzling.

Charles Ewing and Elizabel Riggs in ‘Christmas Movie.’ Photo courtesy of UnLeashed Theatre Co

When the blood flows, the show clicks

Once Delphina unlocks the ominous trunk left to her by her great aunt and unleashes a demon, the show becomes the wild ride its marketing promises. Gulley tears gleefully through the cast in a series of exaggerated, comically gory kills, assisted by Brian Dowling’s delightfully over-the-top fight choreography.

The climactic battle between Santa (a hilariously committed Lythgoe) wrestling the demon in what feels like a Christmas-themed WWE match brings the show to its chaotic, confetti-filled finale. It’s exactly the kind of goofy, beer-soaked holiday nonsense promised by the premise.

Still, you can’t help but wish the play sprinkled more horror throughout instead of stockpiling everything for the final sprint. A few scares or supernatural beats earlier on would make the tonal payoff feel earned rather than abrupt.

Overall, Christmas Movie The Play: The Beginning is inventive and clearly committed to giving audiences a good time, even if it is a bit slow to start. Riggs anchors the show with a charming lead performance, the ensemble throws themselves into the absurdity, and the creative team delivers impressive fight work and sound cues on a shoestring setup.

The show’s biggest limitation is structural: too much Hallmark, not enough horror and a romance subplot that never quite lands. But the blood-spattered finale is undeniably fun, and UnLeashed Theatre Co.’s ambitions to make this an annual holiday tradition (as discussed in their interview on the OnStage Colorado Podcast) feel within reach, especially with some tightening of the script and earlier integration of the supernatural elements.

If you like your Christmas stories cozy but a little carnivorous, this world premiere offers a messy, merry night out. And next year? A little more gore under the tree wouldn’t hurt.