Reviews by PvtCaboose91

Helmed by Peter Yates, 1968's Bullitt is the film which positioned Steve McQueen at the forefront of American movie stars. Bullitt was truly a turning point for McQueen - he had previous starred in several films (The Magnificent Seven and The Great Escape stand out the most from this period), but this was the role that propelled him to genuine stardom. With his sex appeal, desire for accurate detail in his movies, and plain old cool, McQueen was a perfect fit for the iconic Frank Bullitt. With that said, it's critical to note that Bullitt is nothing like the slam-bang, action-oriented crime pictures so prevalent in the 21st Century. The film's celebrated car chase is certainly exhilarating, but it lacks the over-the-top excitement of modern action sequences. There are no spectacular shootouts in Bullitt either, and, while the climactic ending brings about a few tense moments, this is not an especially exciting film. It is cool, though, and that's why Bullitt has become a deserved classic.

In the story, Frank Bullitt is assigned the task of protecting a witness who's set to testify against the Mob in a few days. He decides to place the witness in a seedy hotel for the night; a location he feels is both secure and well hidden. But in spite of his best precautions, both the witness and Frank's colleague are gunned down by professional hit-men. With the victims near death, Bullitt sets out to track down the thugs responsible; quickly becoming ensnared in an elaborate conspiracy and finding himself in the sights of a vast criminal network.

Frank Bullitt is not your standard action movie protagonist. He is not cut from the same cloth as Dirty Harry or John McClane. He's instead soft-spoken and maintains restraint. More importantly, Frank is a loner who is not understood by anybody. His beautiful girlfriend wants to understand and love him, but Frank appears further detached from reality with each case he solves and every ounce of blood he pays witness to (consider a scene in which a corpse is found: Frank himself is calm and casual, but his girlfriend is horrified). While his superiors look upon Frank as a man to count on who'll complete the job, they are unable to understand his methods. He's perceived by those around him as someone who's more machine than man, and who exudes little humanity...just coolness.

Contrary to popular belief, Bullitt did not invent the car chase. Car chases have appeared in movies since the silent film era. That said, however, Bullitt did reinvent the car chase. Exceptionally choreographed, skilfully shot and blazingly fast, the chase sequence in this film is truly magnificent, and set the precedent for action movies to follow. Even despite all the sophisticated filmmaking technology available since 1968, it's almost impossible to beat the mesmerising chase in Bullitt. The entire sequence was done for real, too, with no over-cranked footage (the norm for chases at the time) and with McQueen doing virtually all of his own driving. Best of all, there's no music blasting throughout the sequence; just screeching rubber, the thud of tires against asphalt, and the roar of the spectacular engines.

Rather than focusing on action, the runtime of Bullitt is spent examining politics and procedures in police-work required to solve a crime. Realism was paramount in the creation of this movie, and director Peter Yates has pulled off an outstanding job. The atmosphere is heightened by the fact that the whole movie was filmed on location rather than in a studio - hospital scenes were filmed in a hospital, morgue scenes were shot in a morgue, the run-down hotel room was an actual run-down hotel room, and so on. This approach tested the film technology of the era since lighting was difficult in such cramped conditions, but the filmmakers' dedicated exertions afforded a gritty, dark, almost documentary feel. It's also crucial to reiterate that the car chase was staged at actual speeds, and was actually filmed on the streets of San Francisco (roads had to be shut down by the filmmakers). On top of this, actual professionals were employed as extras instead of mere background actors - real doctors and nurses were shown in the background during hospital scenes, for instance, as opposed to a parade of Hollywood hopefuls with a headshot and a smile.

Similarly, the brilliantly economical script solidifies the atmosphere of realism. Characters carry out their tasks without contrived explanatory dialogue, and it gives a viewer the sense that they're watching actual events. Clearly, the filmmakers understand the time-honoured adage that a picture says a thousand words, because the body language and movement during periods of silence often convey more than what is spoken. Yet, beyond McQueen's definitive anti-hero and the exhilarating car chase, everything else is somewhat humdrum - Bullitt constantly feels as if it's half-asleep. The plot is perhaps too convoluted and a second viewing is required to get the details straight. Furthermore, while the character of Bullitt is reasonably complex, the characters surrounding him are clichéd. Most of all, the narrative may be a tad too reserved to satisfy every taste. The lack of directorial flourish instils an unfortunate sense of datedness as well.

Inevitable flaws aside, Bullitt is a classic cinematic artefact highly deserving of all the accolades and acclaim which has been bestowed upon it. With its meticulous attention to detail and a terrific examination of the happenings behind the scenes of a police investigation, this is a crime-drama that entertains with intelligence. If you don't watch this movie closely, you'll miss vital details, and that's what makes it more than just another cop movie with a car chase.

8.3/10

With a few motion pictures and several television projects under his belt, Mike Judge has become the undisputed master of working man's comedy. No matter the colour of their specific collar, the characters created by Judge exist on the front-lines of American industry. Whether he's exploring the irritating administrative politics of contemporary office workers or the family dynamics of upper-class rednecks, the writer-director is visibly focused on finding comedy in the everyday and is seemingly fascinated by the banal lives of dull people. More than that, Judge is content not to tug the heartstrings or rely on frequent hilarity as long as he is able to build the impression that the people onscreen are an honest reflection of the co-worker to your right or the relative on your left. Office Space and Idiocracy introduced and solidified Judge's approach, which is sustained with the writer-director's third movie, Extract, to great success. A sturdy, constantly uproarious comedy, this film reinforces Judge's voice as a relaxed filmmaker with impeccable comic timing and a terrific skill at blending absurdity with the awkwardly real.

Jason Bateman plays Joel; the owner and founder of a small company that produces food extracts. However the film's title of Extract not only refers to the trade of the protagonist, but also to the main plot threads. There's a drop-dead gorgeous new woman in town named Cindy (Kunis) who in reality is a con artist and a petty thief out to extract whatever she can from those she encounters. Meanwhile, a worker at the Joel's factory, Step (Collins Jr.) loses a testicle in a work-related incident and, with a little prodding from Cindy, decides to sue the company and extract compensation. Unfortunately, Joel's home life isn't any better - the sex has been extracted from his banal marriage, and his irritating neighbour (Koechner) is trying to extract money from Joel for tickets to a dinner that both Joel and his wife have no interest in attending.

Of course, this brief synopsis barely scratches the surface of the subplots which emerge throughout the runtime of Extract. There's about as much "story" here as was featured in Office Space; allowing the film to be mainly about its characters, their situations, and their legitimately hilarious exchanges. If there are surprises to be had with this movie, they're certainly not in the story, which unfolds predictably once one buys into the premises. The surprise is how downright hilarious the whole movie is.

Office Space developed into such a cult classic due to its uncanny observations on cubical drudgery; offering viewers a shoulder to cry on while cooking up frequent laughs. Extract focuses on the less glamorous managerial positions, and provides a flipside of the coin. The best parts of Extract are those which dissect commonplace, everyday elements: the chatty neighbour, the dynamics of a sexless marriage, and the dullness of a workplace. Like Peter Gibbons in Office Space, Joel is an ordinary guy trying to find his way in life, but is constantly hampered by the incompetents surrounding him. The writer-director clearly knew he was making something silly, but he has infused Extract with an unpolished realism that grounds the film superbly. It's the gift of this great filmmaker; the ability to lampoon workplace ethics and expose a core of truth within a ridiculous motion picture.

Although Judge mocks idiots, hypocrites and all other clueless denizens of life, there's an obvious affection for the ordinary people who make the world turn but aren't usually placed front & centre in mainstream cinema. Therefore, these ostensibly boring people come across as genuinely appealing and interesting. When compared to the blaring antics of most Hollywood comedies, Judge appears to downplay the humour in Extract to a constant low hum which reflects Judge's appreciation of simplicity and general decency. Expecting a nonstop laugh-fest would be setting yourself up for disappointment, however - this is low-key comedy of situation and character that relies upon the strength of the cast and the well-written material. Extract is dry and it won't satisfy every taste, but those who appreciate this form of subtle humour will be rewarded greatly.

The cast Judge has assembled is terrific. Jason Bateman continues to display his mastery of portraying the straight man; playing effortlessly against the eccentricities of his oddball co-workers and the other peculiar people surrounding him. The scene-stealers here, though, are Ben Affleck, Clifton Collins Jr., J.K. Simmons and David Koechner. Affleck, who has been gradually rebuilding his damaged career by appearing in under-the-radar films since Hollywoodland, submits a wonderful performance as a bartender who believes Xanax is the cure for everything (including the common cold). The role tackled by Collins Jr. is one dimensional on paper, but the actor's performance provides the character with depth and humanity. J.K. Simmons appears to relish the opportunity to play Joel's business partner and is given several killer lines to play with, while Koechner nails the part as the annoying, talkative, socially awkward neighbour. Mila Kunis (best known as the voice of Meg Griffin in Family Guy) is well-suited to the role of Cindy; she's required to look ridiculously hot as she goes about her business of tricking the men she encounters, and she pulls it off.

Following the theatrical catastrophe of 2006's Idiocracy (a biting sci-fi satire which 20th Century Fox unceremoniously dumped in all of four theatres), Mike Judge has returned with the brilliant Extract; his companion piece to Office Space. Unfortunately, while the dump-and-run approach utilised by Fox for Idiocracy was not in evidence this time, the distributor of Extract - Miramax - did not exactly roll out the red carpet either. The film entered a number of theatres, but the marketing campaign was minimal and it was given an appalling release slot. Extract may not be a masterpiece, but it's considerably superior to most 2009 comedies which received a more robust backing (Year One, Dance Flick, Fired Up and Bride Wars, anyone?).

8.2/10

Born from the mind of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Sherlock Holmes has been imbedded in the public consciousness for in excess of a century now through countless short stories, books, films, and pop culture interpretations. It's an indubitably impressive run, and has caused the character to become one of the most recognisable literary figures in history. Considering the amount of famous film franchises which have been rebooted over recent years (Star Trek, James Bond, etc), it comes as no surprise to learn of the birth of a new Sherlock Holmes film series specifically tailored for a new generation. British filmmaker Guy Ritchie combines his kinetic directorial methods with the limitless charms of Robert Downey Jr. and Jude Law to produce 2009's Sherlock Holmes. This newest version of the character won't likely please purists, but it isn't made for them - similar to Batman Begins and Star Trek, the timeless fictional characters are fashioned to produce a breakneck thriller intended to electrify modern audiences and widen the appeal. That's not to say Ritchie's version depicts Holmes as a straight-up action hero - in spite of the action being played up to satisfy contemporary viewers who'd find a more subdued portrayal too dull, the film is more intelligent than expected, and this is by no means hackwork.

As Sherlock Holmes begins, the titular character (Downey Jr.) and his faithful sidekick Dr. Watson (Law) apprehend serial killer Lord Blackwood (Strong) before he can claim his sixth victim via a dark arts ceremony. Prior to Blackwood's hanging, he warns Holmes that the mayhem and murder won't cease with his execution. Inevitably, this statement rings true. When Blackwood appears to have risen from the grave, the case takes a macabre turn. Complicating the situation is Irene Adler (McAdams), Holmes' slippery former flame, who has returned to London but whose motivations are vague and highly suspicious.

Guy Ritchie mixes the grittiness and brawling of Snatch with buddy cop elements (think Lethal Weapon) and the cheekiness of an Indiana Jones movie to form his Sherlock Holmes. The team of screenwriters (Michael Robert Johnson, Anthony Peckman and Simon Kinberg) keep their tale within the Victorian-era setting in London, and liberally draw from the Holmes canon as familiar characters are plucked from various tales and mixed into this unique stew which relies as much on the detective's physical abilities as it does his deductive capabilities. Fortunately, a couple of combat sequences are skilfully transformed into an intellectual exercise by decelerating the action and allowing Holmes to work out a carefully calculated series of actions to disarm his opponent. Thus, while the execution is purely physical, the violence works in conjunction with (rather than in opposition to) his intellect, not to mention it demonstrates that Holmes is always 100 steps ahead of his enemies.

Dipping into chemistry, pentagrams and early forms of electricity, the plot of Sherlock Holmes is all over the place, and it's so convoluted that one will likely have difficult wrapping their head around it all. This is, of course, due to Ritchie's hyperactive style - the director has crafted an action-adventure all about whooshing and head-banging; leaving little space between each jackhammer sequence to savour the meaning of Holmes' words. Sherlock Holmes literally plays out as if the entire film is on fast-forward. Even during the expositional scenes, there's a distinct lack of substance. On top of this, the plot is not exactly interesting - it feels like the work of Dan Brown (it's almost a doppelganger of Angels & Demons). Granted, the film remains pleasant fun, but it's too disappointingly average, disposable, and simply blah.

In portraying the legendary Sherlock Holmes, Robert Downey Jr. adds his name to an extensive list of actors, including such luminaries as Peter O'Toole, John Barrymore, Peter Cushing and the beloved Basil Rathbone. It may be tempting to perceive Downey's portrayal and Ritchie's amped-up aesthetic approach to the material as mere revisionism for the ADD generation, but it's closer in spirit and tone to Doyle's original character, who is more of a self-imposed social outcast than the distinguished, academic figure to which audiences have grown accustomed. Robert Downey Jr. could not be better casting - it's an articulation of genius that makes Sherlock Holmes such an interesting film despite the myriad flaws. His British accent is utterly convincing. Better, Downey shares pointed chemistry with Jude Law. The role of Dr. Watson was a very smart choice for Law; providing viewers with the opportunity to truly appreciate the actor's screen skills. Law exudes charm and verve as Dr. Watson; offering a more muscular portrait of the character and providing a welcome straight-man for whenever Holmes' eccentricities cross the line.

Sherlock Holmes is further marred by the inclusion of one of the dullest villains in the Holmes canon: Lord Blackwood (played by Mark Strong) who sneers a lot and aspires to take over the world in typical Blofield fashion. Strong is an excellent actor, but the character is neither broad nor menacing enough for him to sink his teeth into, and he's therefore relegated to scowling for the majority of the movie. Rachel McAdams, meanwhile, looks visibly out of her league alongside the impeccable Downey Jr. and Law.

Guy Ritchie, who hasn't had a true hit since Snatch and has been unable to bring anything new to the table since the early days of the Blair government, had long seemed a spent force. But Sherlock Holmes is a good career move. His fingerprints are all over the movie in terms of visual whiplash, but Ritchie was not among those who wrote the script, and therefore the film has not been created as Snatch in a Victorian-era setting (Tarantino should pay attention, since his Inglourious Basterds was virtually Pulp Fiction in a World War II setting). Here, Ritchie acquits himself particularly well for several exhilarating set-pieces; particularly a breathless foot-chase which ends with the destruction of an unfinished ocean liner. On a technical level, 19th Century London as it enters the modern age has been vividly and dynamically recreated, and composer Hans Zimmer delivers an enthralling score.

Ultimately, as films like X-Men achieved with the reintroduction of long-established characters to a new generation, Sherlock Holmes is more successful as a set-up to its sequels rather than a satisfying standalone story. When freed of the origin-story constraints, Brian Singer truly took off with X-Men 2, and so too should Ritchie when it comes time to create a sequel. The reason Sherlock Holmes fails as often as it succeeds is because it merely offers interesting characters in search of a worthwhile story.

6.1/10

After creating the first feature-length animated movie in history with 1937's Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, Walt Disney followed up the success of this risky gamble with Pinocchio - a morality tale based on the serialised stories of Italian author Carlo Collodi about a mischievous puppet who longs to be a real boy. Building on the equipment and techniques developed for Snow White, Pinocchio was released in 1940, and solidified the studio's reputation as the premiere producer of animated entertainment. It was one of the five early animated masterworks Disney presided over at the height of his powers, and decades after its initial theatrical release it remains a technical and emotional marvel which has lost practically none of its appeal, humour or horror.

Told through the fourth wall by the lovable Jiminy Cricket (Edwards), the story is an extremely familiar one, and concerns a lonely woodcarver named Geppetto (Rub). He lives in his workshop with his kitten Figaro and goldfish Cleo, and dreams of having a son. Upon creating a magnificent wooden puppet which he names Pinocchio, Geppetto receives a visit from The Blue Fairy (Venable) who brings the little puppet to life and promises Pinocchio he'll become a real boy if he learns about bravery, loyalty and honesty. The rest of the narrative tracks the naïve, wooden young lad as he is caught up in a series of adventures which put these attributes to the test, while Jiminy Cricket - who has been appointed Pinocchio's conscience - tries to keep him out of trouble.

Chief among the most uneasy, tense sequences of Pinocchio occurs when the titular character is lured to a mysterious place called Pleasure Island whereupon he encounters a number of other young boys. Initially the tone is darkly comical as the lads are allowed free reign to do whatever they want (this involves drinking beer, eating cake, smoking cigars and destroying things). But directors Hamilton Luske and Ben Sharpsteen (who also worked separately on such other Disney animated classics as Dumbo, Cinderella and Peter Pan) slowly begin to build levels of unease; suggesting with ominous imagery that something is not quite right. Yet, the film balances these darker elements with humour and wit, most of which is courtesy of the wise-cracking, but ultimately humble and attentive Jiminy Cricket, who implores viewers at the film's beginning to believe in the magic of wishing upon a star. He's among the most memorable Disney creations: not a mere sidekick, this little guy is the narrator as well as the crucial link between the movie and the audience (he often breaks the fourth wall by speaking directly to an audience, which was a rarity in 1940s cinema). Added to this, Cliff Edwards' vocal performance as Jiminy hits all the right notes.

Naturally, another great asset of Pinocchio is the visual appeal. Entirely hand-drawn in a period preceding computer animation, this movie is a dazzling mixture of impressionism and realism, replete with striking colours and an exquisite attention to detail. The artists at Disney played with elements of light & shadow, and managed to create vivid, three-dimensional landscapes inhabited by an array of animated characters. It's apparent that Walt and his crew hadn't perfected lip motion at the time of Pinocchio, but virtually every other aspect of fluid motion animation had been nailed. Furthermore, a variety of animation techniques (now taken for granted) were actually invented for this film. The underwater sequences and animated backgrounds included in this early masterwork helped add depth to what was formerly a fairly flat medium. The intricate details here would be praiseworthy even if they were digitally created...but every frame was manually drawn, inked, coloured and photographed in sequence for Pinocchio. It's a marvel. For those wanting to experience hand-drawn animation at its early apex, this is a movie to be savoured.

Yet, even with all its strengths, this is an inherently flawed movie. Due to the serialised nature of the source material, Pinocchio is divided into vignettes, resulting in a string of unconnected fables lacking a compelling story (and, more importantly, momentum). It's also the most consciously moral of the Disney classics (once again remaining true to the source material). While other Disney films are endowed with messages and lessons, Pinocchio is a little too preachy at times. Lazy narrative elements are mixed in as well, such as the fact that how Geppetto and his companions end up in the belly of a whale remains a perplexing mystery, and that Pinocchio finds out about his father's misfortune because he receives a note that's conveniently dropped by The Blue Fairy. Naturally, copious amounts of Disney syrup have been applied here, which does at times grow pretty overwhelming. The film of course ends with an obligatory happy ending, but it admittedly feels well-earned.

In spite of its flaws, Pinocchio remains integral in the history of animation. Sure, it was the second feature-length animated movie in history behind Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, but movie-goers were still sceptical about a cartoon keeping an audience hooked for its entire runtime. If Pinocchio was a failure, it would have proved just as devastating to the company, as Snow White would've been if it hadn't been received so positively. Fortunately, the film was a deserved hit which earned several Oscars (including Best Original Song for When You Wish Upon a Star - the Jiminy Cricket ballad that became the theme for Walt Disney enterprises). By some miracle, too, Disney also managed to release the legendary Fantasia later in the same year.

7.8/10

Designed and constructed as nothing more than a kick-'em-up action vehicle for Brandon Lee (son of Bruce Lee), Rapid Fire is satisfying patchwork genre filmmaking. It's a highly entertaining, albeit painfully generic pastiche of Mafioso politics, crooked FBI machinations, perpetual mayhem and an array of awesome action sequences. No elements are incorporated into Rapid Fire to hoist it above the territory of the strictly ordinary, but it remains fulfilling as a mindless action flick.

The plot, naturally, has a clichéd ring to it: in a typically contrived way, Jake Lo (Lee) witnesses a mob execution. Jake agrees to testify against the Big Powerful Bad Guy No-One Has The Guts To Mess With, and the FBI places him in the witness protection program. Since it's an unwritten law in the world of action flicks, this witness protection program proves rife with corruption, and Jake - once framed by the FBI - is forced to take matters into his own hands. On the run from the law and caught in the middle of a battle between two feuding drug lords, the Jake is faced with only one way to clear his name: team up with a renegade cop (Boothe). Nothing new here, folks.

Alan McElroy's screenplay (from a plot conceived by himself and Cindy Cirile) seems culled from about 15 television movies concerning witness relocation, unjustly-accused heroes, and cops so devious it's impossible to tell who to root for. The plot twists are all quite predictable, the love interest (in the form of a female cop played by Kate Hodge...is there any other kind?) seems rudimentary, and the villains are comprised of stock B-movie bad guy clichés. Point is, there's no narrative innovation, and characterisations are nothing unprecedented. But why watch such a motion picture on the basis of anything other than action? You shouldn't. Rapid Fire is an action movie; plain and simple. Sure, the world already has enough action movies, but Rapid Fire manages to do something that other action movies failed to achieve: showcase the amazing fighting skills and general agility of Bruce Lee's son. The film never breaks out of the B-movie mould, but Brandon Lee (who helped choreograph the fighting) is given multiple action scenes to work with, ensuring the movie is worth sitting through despite the recycled plot and characters.

As for Brandon Lee, he's not as wooden as one might expect. It was to his advantage that his acting didn't suffer from the exasperating eccentricities of his action star peers - such as Steven Seagal's egocentric mumbling or the preening style of Jean-Claude Van Damme. Or, for that matter, he wasn't marred by any of their accents either. Lee could act; he emitted a charming screen presence of good looks and genuine cool. His fisticuffs are fluid and exhilarating, and boast an inventiveness rarely witnessed outside of Hong Kong kung-fu cinema - not only does Lee use his hands and feet as lethal weapons, but he also defends himself by improvising with nearby objects. Lee's sudden death (due to an on-set accident during production of his next movie, The Crow) is a true tragedy - the young lad had a promising career ahead of him. As for the rest of the cast, there's a solid, if routine performance courtesy of Powers Boothe playing the grizzled, single-track cop, in addition to Nick Mancuso who's passable as the villain, and Kate Hodge who's likeable but nothing special as the love interest. Al Leong makes a brief appearance to battle Lee at one stage, too. During the '80s, Leong's played background henchmen in several action films (like Die Hard and Action Jackson), and it's terrific to see him here.

As far as standard, mindless cookie-cutter action movies (with little redeeming values) go, you could certainly do far worse than Rapid Fire, though that's hardly a ringing endorsement. Those who enjoy balls-to-the-wall action movies will find enough to enjoy within these fast-paced 90 minutes, but others need not apply.

6.2/10

After the tremendously successful Home Alone - which was produced on a $15 million budget and grossed almost half a billion worldwide - a sleuth of similar holiday-themed comedies followed in its shadow which mixed syrupy sentiment with broad slapstick. 1996's Jingle All the Way is one of these films, but it's also one of the worst. Look, Arnold Schwarzenegger is not a good thespian. His acting skills are lacking, and the only reason Arnie became so successful was because he was fun to watch when heavily armed and killing multiple opponents in gory ways. By the early '90s, Arnie's days as a box office juggernaut were ebbing, and - aware that his career had reached a turning point - he began participating in projects that either spoofed his screen persona (Last Action Hero, True Lies, etc.) or were flat-out comedies (Kindergarten Cop, Junior, and so on). Unfortunately, try as he might, Schwarzenegger is no comedian. Jingle All the Way is an aneurism of a children's Christmas movie; a pastiche of cartoonish action, juvenile jokes and appalling physical humour.

The Schwarzenegger role here is a workaholic father named Howard Langston, who (in typical hackneyed fashion) has been neglecting his family. Due to this, he's treading on thin emotional ice with his young son Jesse (Jake "Anakin Skywalker" Lloyd). Having missed Jesse's promotion at his karate class, Howard promises his son he'll buy him whatever he wants for Christmas as redemption for his behaviour of late. Unfortunately for Howard, Jesse desires the hottest toy on the market: the "Turbo Man" action figure. Unfortunately, too, it's Christmas Eve when Howard sets out to buy this action figure, and must endure extreme odds to fulfil his son's Christmas wish.

For the majority of its running time, Jingle All the Way bludgeons a viewer senseless with unrestrained slapstick and unpleasant characters. The constant activity keeps the pace brisk, but, to paraphrase basketball coach John Wooden, don't mistake activity for achievement. Every single performance and comedic premise is overblown and amplified, as if the filmmakers intended this movie for viewers with poor vision and hearing. Clever jokes are few and far between, which makes the movie essentially an 80-minute string of brainless physical comedy without any variety. Meanwhile, the pathetic message lying at the core of Jingle All the Way is simple: buy your spoiled brat's love and attack strangers to achieve this end.

Rather than concentrating on either Santa's universe or the sentimental idea of family, Jingle All the Way targets the unsavoury commercialism of Christmas, much like the brilliant Miracle on 34th Street did half a century beforehand. But where Miracle on 34th Street was witty and warm, Jingle All the Way is abrasive and phoney. Admittedly, the premise had potential. Cabbage Patch Dolls created an immense frenzy in the '80s that had parents wrestling in toy store aisles, so it's a terrific idea to satirise this, but Jingle All the Way fails to offer enough expansion of the main joke. Taken by itself, the premise simply lacks the substance to form the basis for a feature-length picture. Thus, the movie seems padded out using repetitive, unfunny slapstick, as if the filmmakers got the go-ahead after successfully pitching the concept, but were unable to figure out how to extend things beyond sitcom length. Consequently, the movie sags noticeably throughout the middle section as the director and screenwriters fight to extend the film's duration.

Early into the film's development, one or more of the film's credited writers likely conceived of something darker. Jingle All the Way shows signs of this, but the screenwriters also tried to make it a conventional family film determined to leave viewers all warm and fuzzy. Thus, these two opposite approaches are constantly at odds with each other. There's a lot of silly slapstick aimed at kids here, but the filmmakers clearly had no qualms about lacing this "children's movie" with gags based on lecherous divorces, alcohol, and - most worryingly - parcel bombs. The majority of the characters are gratingly unpleasant, too: unhelpful store clerks who openly guffaw at Howard's naïveté about the popularity of Turbo Man, department store Santas who are depicted as money-grabbing crooks, and an unrepentantly amorous neighbour (Hartman) who puts the moves on Howard's wife. Even the reindeer are nasty in this one. Howard himself is extremely unpleasant as well. At one stage he stops short of stealing a Turbo Man action figure from under the Christmas tree next door! In essence, the bulk of the movie is snapshot-after-snapshot of two guys behaving in ways that would put the average kid on the naughty list that year - if they didn't land in juvenile prison, that is.

Another tragedy is the fact that the Austrian Oak was given no leeway for the only type of comedy he can handle: tongue-in-cheek self-deprecation. Worse, Schwarzenegger in no way fits the role of Howard Langston. It may be amusing seeing the juxtaposition of Arnie and DeVito in Twins, but Schwarzenegger doesn't make sense as a determined family man simply because his career was built on playing ruthless killers. The star's limited range hurts the film, especially when paired with Jake Lloyd who's so shrill that viewers may actually change their minds about having kids someday. At least there are some fun cameos by Robert Conrad as a silver-haired cop, Marin Mull as a timid radio DJ, and James Belushi as a black-market Santa. Even Yeardley Smith (voice of Lisa Simpson in The Simpsons) appears in the extended version of the film.

On the positive side, Jingle All the Way is reasonable for family consumption due to its broad and silly nature (adult content notwithstanding, since it probably won't even register in a child's mind). Kids may well enjoy it (this reviewer did as an 8-year-old) - I acknowledge and understand that. But why can't it offer fun or laughs for adults? Parents forced to sit through this train wreck should stock up on the liquor beforehand. All these years after its release, Jingle All the Way remains a heartless, unfunny Christmas movie that delivers a horrible message. Arnie fans should avoid at all costs.

3.5/10

In among the wondrous childhood memories implanted by Theodor Seuss Geisel (better known as Dr. Seuss) is the distinctly Seuss-esque Christmas tale entitled How the Grinch Stole Christmas. A Yuletide staple all over the world, the story was eventually adapted into a successful animated film back in 1966. Dr. Seuss may have passed away in 1991, but his legacy lives on. This brings us to the motion picture in question - Hollywood's live-action adaptation of The Grinch, for which an array of state-of-the-art technological wizardry was employed to bring the late author's beloved festive fantasy to life for a new generation. Directed by Ron Howard and produced by Brian Grazer, this particular appropriation of How the Grinch Stole Christmas was released in 2000, but it's hard to shake off the thought that padding out Dr. Seuss' original (short) story into a feature-length film was purely a business decision rather than an artistic one. The product is a handsomely-produced extension of the holiday classic, but it's deficient in one vital element: heart.

The story is so familiar that it will only take a few moments to refresh your memories. The Grinch (Carrey) lives in spiteful seclusion high on Mount Crumpit, overlooking the peaceful village of Whoville. Ever since he was a child, the Grinch has hated the inhabitants of said village. With Christmas fast approaching one year, little Cindy Lou Who (Momsen) tries to transcend the empty commercialism of the festive season by inviting the Grinch to the town's holiday festivities. But once things go pear-shaped, the Grinch hatches a supreme scheme to ruin Christmas for the whole of Whoville.

In Dr. Seuss' original book, the writer explained the Grinch's rather grouchy behaviour in only the vaguest of terms. He noted "No-one knows why; no-one quite knows the reason". For decades, millions of readers have accepted the Grinch's behaviour on those terms. Yet, in Ron Howard's big-screen adaptation, a back-story had to be conceived in order to stretch out the material to feature length. According to the back-story, the Grinch hates both the Christmas season and the Whos in Whoville due to a childhood trauma brought on by his school-mates. This doesn't quite gel, however. There are things which should be left to the imagination, and the Grinch's mean-spirited behaviour is one of those things. With the character given the cliché of a bad childhood, he can't be blamed for his nastiness. Ironically, the Whos were responsible for bringing about a nasty change in the Grinch's personality, thus when he steals their Christmas it's hard to feel bad for them. There's a disturbing lack of reality pervading How the Grinch Stole Christmas as well - it's an anti-commercialism story that ends with the Whos getting all their presents back...

Beneath the Oscar-winning make-up courtesy of Rick Baker, Jim Carrey gives it his all as the Grinch. But Carrey takes the role as an opportunity to work his usual slapstick shtick and project his trademark screen personality (think Ace Ventura with green skin). This is the problem - How the Grinch Stole Christmas unavoidably becomes a Jim Carrey vehicle; a fantastical stage upon which he can prance, pout, preen and indulge in amusing scenarios. He simply lacks honest-to-goodness menace, and his portrayal barely resembles the character written by Dr. Seuss. Of course, there should be deviations from the source material when creating a cinematic adaptation of a book to suit the new medium, but it's crucial for these changes to work. In this case, Jim Carrey's unique portrayal of the Grinch is extremely funny, but the added story arcs fail. On top of this, the screenwriters (Jeffrey Price and Peter S. Seaman) attempted to invent new rhymes. But no-one alive can write like Dr. Seuss could, especially not these two screenwriters whose rhymes are simply mundane.

Script quibbles aside, How the Grinch Stole Christmas has been immaculately assembled through staggering digital wizardry, lavish production design, Oscar-winning make-up and thousands of hours of pure hard labour. Bringing Dr. Seuss' wonderfully warped imagination into cinematic reality presented an undertaking of epic proportions, and the entire production design team should be congratulated for pulling off such a marvellous job. The phenomenal world created here is even faithful to Seuss' illustrations, with the buildings, the furniture, and all the interesting little doodads looking precisely like those imagined by the late author. Added to this, Sir Anthony Hopkins is wonderful as the narrator of the story. All the other members of the supporting cast, however, are so humdrum that they fade into the background while Carrey commands both the foreground and the middle ground.

How the Grinch Stole Christmas is not Ron Howard's finest hour; the director ostensibly relied so heavily on the elaborate sets and Carrey's comedic stylings that he offered nothing of substance or heart. It all feels very blah. Nevertheless, comparisons to Hollywood's usual festive output (Jingle All the Way, anyone?) are rather flattering for How the Grinch Stole Christmas - it's a few notches above the usual standard simply because it at least has moments of solid comedy. But does anyone else feel that someone like Tim Burton could have pulled off a far better all-round movie...?

5.6/10

As the title implies, writer-director Richard Curtis's Love Actually is a motion picture about love. Without any cynicism or pessimism, this is an unashamedly upbeat romantic comedy - it proclaims that, even in the direst of circumstances, love is all around, and if we cannot see it, it is because we are not looking. This sentiment constitutes the film's core, and though it may seem cloying or mushy, Curtis is so earnest in upholding the notion that it comes across as genuinely touching. Like most films featuring a sizeable ensemble cast, Love Actually is overstuffed, but it leaves you wanting more due to the feature's pervasive charm, enchanting characters and sharp, witty writing. Curtis's directorial debut after scripting numerous acclaimed comedies, Love Actually is an endearing cinematic exploration of the most essential human emotion that will leave you feeling warm and fuzzy. Containing a cast of more than twenty main characters in separate yet intertwining stories, Love Actually is a Robert Altman film on antidepressants and Viagra.

Love Actually plays out as a string of short vignettes that follow a group of semi-linked Londoners during the lead-up to Christmas. These stories are about love in all of its multiple forms and guises: love between siblings, love between parents and children, love between spouses, puppy love, platonic love, unrequited love, and sexual/romantic love. Characters are falling in love, and other characters fall out of love. Some characters are with the right people, and some are with the wrong people. Some are looking to have an affair, while others are in a period of mourning. One character also needs to come to terms with having feelings for a member of the same sex.

One of the key narrative threads involves the new Prime Minister, David (Hugh Grant), who cannot express his feelings for his new personal assistant, Natalie (Martine McCutcheon). Additionally, there is an art gallery manager (The Walking Dead's Andrew Lincoln) who's in love with his best friend's (Chiwetel Ejiofor) new wife (Keira Knightley), a pair of naked movie stand-ins (Martin Freeman and Joanna Page) who grow closer while performing simulated sex scenes, a writer (Colin Firth) who falls in love with his Portuguese housekeeper (Lúcia Moniz) despite her not speaking English, and a burnt-out rock star, Billy Mack (Bill Nighy), who releases a new single entitled Christmas Is All Around. Another vital story involves Daniel (Liam Neeson), who struggles to deal with losing his beloved wife while caring for his stepson, Sam (Thomas Brodie-Sangster). Sam develops a crush on his American classmate, Joanna (Olivia Olson), but does not know how to approach the situation. More stories occur within, including a design agency director (Alan Rickman) who begins pursuing an affair with his secretary (Heike Makatsch), as well as a designer in the same company (Laura Linney) falling in love with the creative director (Rodrigo Santoro).

To illustrate the film's core message about love being everywhere, Curtis opens and closes the film at Heathrow Airport, making use of authentic footage of the arrival gates full of anonymous smiles, hugs and kisses. After all, what is more symbolic than the longstanding rom-com cliché of the airport? Love Actually sees Richard Curtis take the helm of a production after over two decades of film and television writing. After contributing to iconic TV shows like Blackadder, Mr. Bean and The Vicar of Dibley, he scripted such acclaimed movies as Four Weddings and a Funeral, Notting Hill and Bridget Jones's Diary. Curtis is, therefore, able to confidently temper romanticism with comedy. Love Actually is frequently hilarious, containing numerous side-splitting comedic set pieces. Most memorably, there's a hilarious scene featuring Rowan Atkinson as a department store attendant. The film also heavily features Billy Mack, the outspoken, addled rock star whose tendency to proclaim his new single is commercial shit exasperates his long-suffering manager (Gregor Fisher).

The only problem with Love Actually is that there is too much here, with all the tales feeling slightly underdone. The stories are easy to follow and enjoy, but it is challenging to genuinely care about all the characters, as each segment receives an average of eight minutes of screen time. The film's original cut was significantly longer, even incorporating an additional storyline, but Curtis and editor Nick Moore (Notting Hill, About a Boy) ultimately hewed the picture down to a bit over two hours. Remarkably, however, the film nevertheless works, with Curtis finding a strong narrative rhythm, and it is fun to see what amounts to a reel of highlights for nearly a dozen separate romantic comedies without losing any narrative coherence. Additionally, Curtis resolves some stories in a downtrodden manner, while other endings feel like fantasies. Although it feels like Curtis keeps changing the rules, the variety keeps the film more surprising and enjoyable.

For all intents and purposes, Love Actually probably should not work because it has too many characters and stories. Despite this, it does work to a remarkable degree, dissecting love, lust and loss with charming precision while delivering humour and poignancy. Although there is an overabundance of characters, every one of them is worth spending time with, and I would be willing to sit through another two hours of them fumbling their way through the messy odyssey of falling in love, staying in love, or loving people they cannot be with. When the end credits roll, it is virtually impossible not to smile or feel heart-warmed. Plus, if the biggest complaint about a motion picture is that there is not enough of it, that is undoubtedly indicative of a disarming, joyous film. Curtis later wrote and directed a mini-sequel in the form of 2017's Red Nose Day Actually, a 17-minute promotional short film that checks back in with several of the characters.

One of Love Actually's biggest pleasures is the ensemble cast comprising numerous respected and recognisable British actors. Hugh Grant, Liam Neeson, Colin Firth, Emma Thompson, Alan Rickman, Keira Knightley, Kris Marshall, Martin Freeman, Bill Nighy and the aforementioned Rowan Atkinson are present here, to name a few. Neeson is boundlessly likeable as the struggling widower, while Grant is his usual charismatic self as the Prime Minister, reminding us why he is a popular and reliable choice for romantic leads. Other nationalities also pop in, with Laura Linney meaningfully contributing to the story, while Billy Bob Thornton makes a memorable cameo appearance as the President of the United States, reportedly taking a break from Bad Santa to film his scenes. To wax enthusiastically about the cast would take days, but suffice it to say, this is a fantastic ensemble full of compelling and amusing performances. Every actor manages to shape distinct characters with clear-cut personalities, staving off story or character confusion. However, Billy Nighy arguably trumps the rest of the cast, delivering a show-stealing performance as Billy Mack. Nighy is a hoot, wholly committing to the role with his singing and comedic antics.

As a Christmas love story, Love Actually is romantic, festive and jubilant enough to become a Yuletide mainstay, making it unsurprising that it has become a holiday tradition in many households. Cinematographer Michael Coulter beautifully captures the London setting with its festive decorations, and the soundtrack is pitch-perfect, with delightful Christmas tunes and a fantastic original orchestral score by Craig Armstrong. Online critics continue to debate the morals of various stories, with Keira Knightley herself even proclaiming the cue card scene as creepy, but it seems Scrooge-like to analyse the picture to such a degree when it is so effortlessly captivating. Love Actually is full of iconic scenes and moments, from David's dance scene to the school Christmas pageant and a last-minute dash to the airport. The movie is smart, funny, entertaining and poignant, sidestepping the usual genre pitfalls to weave a thoroughly enjoyable exploration of the human heart. This is a delightful way to spend two hours, and it is terrific to witness so many of Britain's best actors sharing screen space in their prime.

7.9/10

Got any kids who've been naughty? If so, then Deck the Halls is their present. It has become a time-honoured tradition for Hollywood studios to distribute below-par Christmas movies as the festive season approaches in an attempt to extract as much money as possible from the naïve movie-going public. Of all the abysmal Christmas movies in recent memory, Deck the Halls is definitely among the worst. It even fails to meet the low standards set by Jingle All the Way and Christmas with the Kranks. It's unfunny, juvenile, remarkably tedious, painfully formulaic, hackneyed, and infused with messages regarding the holiday season that are shallow and pointless. It's topped off with embarrassing mushiness, and a climax so terribly insipid it makes Christmas with the Kranks seem like It's a Wonderful Life in comparison. The film will even make one want to renounce Christmas altogether. It's simply the definitive Christmas present for any naughty child - far nastier than a lump of coal. Deck the screenwriters instead!

As for the story: Steve Finch (Broderick) is a successful optometrist living in a quaint Massachusetts town. As December sets in and Christmas draws closer, Steve finds his title of Mr. Christmas being challenged by his new neighbour Buddy (DeVito). At Christmastime Steve usually organises small town events, but nothing too ostentatious - he coordinates carolling expeditions, he's in charge of the tree in town square, he owns a Christmas tree farm, and unofficially presides over the annual Winterfest carnival. Meanwhile, Buddy develops a goal of his own for Christmas that's anything but ostentatious: cover his house with so many lights that it can be seen from space. This garish display offends Steve, and thus their December battle commences as they vie for the title of Mr. Christmas. One-upmanship and jealousy ensues as their 60-minute pissing contest takes shape.

Deck the Halls contains unrealistic characters living in a world entirely devoid of logic. Case in point: in a phoney display of apology, Buddy gives Steve a new car from the dealership he works for. Steve is utterly gob-smacked by the generosity, and out of guilt he repents for apparently misjudging Buddy. As it turns out, Buddy forged Steve's signature on some legal documents, meaning Steve has officially PURCHASED the car and must now pay for it. This is about six different types of illegal, but does Steve ever go to the police to sort things out like a smart person? Nope. Instead, the men decide to settle matters by having an ice-skating race. No matter who wins the race, Buddy is still not charged with fraud, theft, or forgery - all of which could be proven, and all of which could put a man in prison for a long time. It's offensive to the intelligence.

Deck the Halls is clearly intended to be a light-hearted family comedy, hence the PG rating. So why are the two protagonists such unredeemable bastards? In black comedies like Bad Santa, contemptible protagonists are acceptable due to tone and target audience. But in a family romp it's confusing for the kids who'd come under the false impression that revenge is right. There's an unforgiveable character cliché here too - Buddy is annoying, manipulative, greedy and contemptible, yet Steve is the only one capable of seeing that. Everyone else thinks Buddy is delightful, and Steve is grilled for disliking his neighbour. But the more Steve attempts to show everyone what a jerk Buddy is (and he IS a jerk; a lying, thieving, crass buffoon) the more it backfires, making him look bad and making everyone love Buddy all the more.

A typical scene depicts either Buddy or Steve (or both) attempting to handle some sort of situation before something foolish and predictable transpires. This formula being reused over and over again makes up Deck the Halls. Trees are burned, dads perversely leer at their teenage daughters without realising it, and a character gets covered in animal excrement. But it's obvious that, despite so many disasters, there will be a reunion of sorts at the end of the film and amends will be made. Why? Because it's Christmas! All is forgiven, right...? Fuck no! It's impossible to forgive the filmmakers for wasting one's time with recycled clichés and unfunny set-pieces. It spends over an hour establishing Buddy as a despicable wretch, and then the audience is expected to start liking him because Steve is dumb enough to be conned into forgiving the guy? In the real world, Buddy would be forced to reform; to admit his wrongdoing and plead for forgiveness. In this twisted wreckage of Hollywood excess, however, somehow STEVE is the one who needs to change his ways. Just when one thinks/hopes the superficiality is over, the population of the town pull out their cell phones to use as lights, because's Buddy's Christmas light display fails...

The fact that this stuff sticks out while watching Deck the Halls is an indicator of the quality of the humour. The lack of reality could be forgiven if only there were laughs to be had, but this film ain't funny, nor is it fun or enjoyable. Matt Corman and Chris Ord were credited for the screenplay, and this is their first Hollywood credit. Boy, their inexperience is obvious. Every amateurish trick designed to entertain is employed, such as an expensive, prized family vase mentioned early into the film that one can pretty much guarantee will play a part somewhere in the third act to provide a giggle. Furthermore, characters appear to mysteriously recite one-liners when they're alone. A prime example of this is a scene during which a young boy, upon seeing two hot girls undress through a window, exclaims "This is going to be the best Christmas ever!" despite the fact he's all alone. Who are you talking to, you horny little brat? Yourself? The audience? The telegraph pole you're perched on? The Lord?

Once the script was completed, Don Rhymer conducted rewrites and John Whitesell was hired as the director. Garbage of a monumental degree was destined to be born from this point forward. Whitesell had previously directed Calendar Girl, See Spot Run, and Malibu's Most Wanted. Rhymer wrote movies like Carpool, The Santa Clause 2 and Agent Cody Banks 2. Rhymer and Whitesell had also collaborated previously for Big Momma's House 2. These two are purveyors of hopeless crap - they're some of the worst "talent" Hollywood has ever seen. Matthew Broderick and Danny DeVito appear to give it their all as the protagonists here, but the actors merely play the umpteenth versions of their long-established screen personas. It's a very tragic state of affairs indeed when someone of DeVito's stature can't get a laugh... Those tempted to give this film a shot as a mark of respect for Broderick and/or DeVito should think twice. If you're a fan of one or both performers, you simply don't want to see the material they've been allocated.

Deck the Halls doesn't do an adequate job of capturing the spirit of the holiday season either. There are Christmas carols and a pallet of red and green, but this lifeless film has no heart. There are some great Christmas movies out there - Bad Santa and National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, to name a couple. Deck the Halls, however, is not destined to be remembered among them. Why is it so hard to make a decent Christmas comedy? Not every movie has to be on the level of It's a Wonderful Life. A Home Alone or a Love Actually would do fine. Nevertheless, year after year, we get unfunny and unpleasant cinematic abortions. Deck the Halls takes its place alongside Surviving Christmas and Christmas with the Kranks as one of the most unpleasant gifts of the Christmas season. They look fine when wrapped, but, once opened, one hastily wants to return them.

1.9/10

Nothing says Christmas quite like the classics. With each Christmas season resulting in an influx of holiday-themed titles, very few modern Christmas flicks are destined for the same level of popularity as the seasonal favourites of old. One much-loved and highly-regarded Yuletide picture is the 1947 masterpiece Miracle on 34th Street. Although audiences now consider the picture one of the best Christmas films in history, its success was highly unlikely. Indeed, 20th Century Fox's studio head disliked the film, choosing to release it in May while keeping the Christmas setting a secret in marketing materials. Additionally, writer-director George Seaton's screenplay takes subtle jabs at festive commercialism, and the story deals with law and politics. But Miracle on 34th Street found its audience, receiving critical acclaim and Academy Awards. Bolstered by a winning combination of warm, sincere performances, magical moments, and clever scripting, Miracle on 34th Street is an annual holiday viewing tradition in many households for good reason. Children will find it a rewarding fantasy about the existence of Santa, while the picture will reward older, more mature viewers with an intelligence lacking in mainstream Christmas films.

As the film begins, the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade in New York City is about to occur. When a kind old man named Kris (Edmund Gwenn) discovers that the parade's Santa Claus is intoxicated, he promptly informs the organiser, Doris Walker (Maureen O'Hara). Realising that Kris resembles Santa to a striking degree, she persuades him to jump in as the parade's replacement Father Christmas. With Kris doing a remarkable job during the parade, Macy's hires him as their Santa for the Christmas period, and he is a huge hit: he is wonderful with children and is full of Christmas spirit. Doris's daughter, Susan (Natalie Wood), witnesses Kris in action and believes he is the real Santa Claus. However, Doris is raising Susan to not believe in fairytales, and she hopes that Kris will inform her daughter that Father Christmas is not real. To her dismay, Kris instead insists that he truly is Santa Claus. Kris's ostensibly ridiculous claim is immediately challenged, leading to a courtroom battle where the judge (Gene Lockhart) will determine Kris's sanity. In court, Kris is represented by Doris's neighbour, Fred Gailey (John Payne).

Without any flying reindeer, magical sleighs, elves, or acts of magic, Miracle on 34th Street is a distinct Christmas offering that takes place in reality but contains fantastical undertones. Seaton keeps the picture cleverly ambiguous, as nobody ever definitively declares Kris to be the real Santa Claus, nor does the movie prove that Santa exists. Just as Doris and Susan gain faith in the unprovable, so does the audience. With the feature presenting evidence for and against the notion that Kris is Santa, it is up to individual viewers to believe and interpret the ending however they wish. Furthermore, similar to other Christmas films from the 1940s (It's a Wonderful Life, The Shop Around the Corner, or The Bishop's Wife), Miracle on 34th Street captures a time of sheltered innocence when a trip to the department store involved dressing in your best clothes, and parents could trust strangers to look after their children. The film feels like a charming nostalgic dream beset with delightful moments, including Kris singing Sinterklaas Kapoentje with a little Dutch girl, Thelma Ritter in her first film role as a frustrated mother who experiences Kris's selfless goodwill, and the United States Postal Service delivering all the undelivered Santa letters on Kris in court.

George Seaton started as a radio actor (he played the Lone Ranger in 1933 broadcasts) before moving into screenwriting during the 1930s and making his directorial debut with 1945's Diamond Horseshoe. Although Miracle on 34th Street was one of his earliest directorial undertakings, he displays a robust sense of craftsmanship and keeps the narrative engaging despite the picture mostly amounting to dialogue. The film is also notable for its use of authentic locations, which was an innovative approach at a time when motion pictures were filmed almost exclusively on soundstages. Seaton even filmed scenes with his actors during the real Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, using nine cameras and only recording each scene once. The director filmed other scenes inside an actual Macy's department store with real workers and customers in the background. Such techniques are highly effective and heighten the sense of authenticity.

Although the cinematography is understandably basic and lacks dynamism, Seaton coaxes exceptional performances from the actors, which is one of the production's biggest assets. Edward Gwenn's Oscar-winning performance as Kris Kringle is wonderfully endearing. He is the type of person who makes you immediately smile when you are in their presence, rendering him the perfect big-screen Santa Claus. Instead of playing the role with an exaggerated, booming voice, Gwenn portrays the jolly fat man as the nuanced embodiment of goodwill and kind-heartedness. Best of all, you cannot help but love him regardless of whether you believe he truly is Father Christmas or not. Further additions to the cast include the captivating Maureen O'Hara and the precocious young Natalie Wood, who's an utter joy as Susan.

It may not reach the dizzying heights of It's a Wonderful Life, but Miracle on 34th Street is a shrewd, immensely enjoyable festive fable that carefully hedges its bets in playing the line between reality and fantasy. The picture refuses to get mushy on us, with the sentiment feeling earned and genuine instead of forced. Seaton astutely blends tender drama, sly humour (this is a very funny movie at times), and a knowing, biting commentary on the commercialism of Christmas that grows more relevant with each passing year. Indeed, one must wonder what Kris would think about the state of Christmas commercialism in the 21st Century. Miracle on 34th Street also embodies the holiday spirit, which is more about kindness, humanity and decency. 

9.2/10