Reviews by PvtCaboose91

Hollywood, it would appear, is determined to inundate movie-goers with at least one holiday-style motion picture at Christmastime every year. These festive movies are intended to be warm and heartfelt, and are designed to lift our spirits, but only very few will end up making the hall of fame. Films such as National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, Miracle on 34th Street and It's a Wonderful Life are a few examples of well-adored Christmas movies. But with the arrival of 2003's Elf, you can add a new title to your annual Christmas Eve movie night. Directed by the little-known (at the time) Jon Favreau, this is a bright, warm, charming and delightful film that manages to hit a home run in terms of laughter, heartfelt emotion, and Christmas spirit. It never seems trite or forced, it never appears to play to the lowest common denominator, and, more importantly, it was a strong step forward for Will Ferrell's career as a leading man.

Elf is the tale of a man named Buddy (Ferrell). As a toddler living in an orphanage, he crawls into Santa's toy bag and accidentally ends up in the North Pole. Santa (Asner) and the elves opt to raise Buddy (who is named as such due to the brand of diapers he's wearing) to believe he is himself an elf, despite physical evidence to the contrary. As an adult, Buddy finally learns of his true heritage and sets out to New York City to find his biological father: Walter Hobbs (Caan), a children's book editor who's gruff, busy and has absolutely no knowledge that Buddy was ever born. In NYC, Buddy encounters an unfamiliar culture, a father who doesn't want to acknowledge his existence, and an attractive...okay, VERY attractive girl named Jovie (the lovely Zooey Deschanel) who captures his heart.

This sets the stage for what turns out to be the jolliest, funniest, most deliriously whimsical family comedy in years. Buddy's adventures in New York City are what one would expect: he's fascinated by revolving doors, he takes at face value a café's assertion that it makes the "world's best cup of coffee", he hasn't dealt with cars before, and he isn't used to unfriendly critters. In terms of storyline, Elf adheres to the well-worn, Hollywood-approved tale of an outsider trying to fit into a new world who wins over all those he comes into contact with. The result could have been a saccharine-coated blast of faux holiday charm, but under the watchful eye of director Favreau, Elf is disarming, genuinely hilarious and touching. And, to the credit of Favreau, the pace is delightfully brisk.

(See what I mean about her? This is a review of a kid's movie, so I'll just say... I'd *beep* the *beep* out of that *beep*ing gorgeous thing)

Part of the reason why the film works when it should fail is the visual appeal. Rather than relying on overworked computer-generated effects, the look of Elf is kept simple and direct through the utilisation of stop-motion animation techniques and simplistic yet effective sets. It's a clever way to evoke nostalgia and good will. Another masterstroke is a generous helping of references to past classics of the genre. For one, Favreau enlisted the aid of stop-motion specialists The Chiodo Brothers to bring this fantastically skewed version of the North Pole to life. And the clever creative decisions dive even further into the collective pop culture consciousness with the spot-on casting of television comedic deities Bob Newhart and Ed Asner. The additional casting of improvisation-oriented actors such as Andy Richter, Kyle Gass, Amy Sedaris and Arty Lang in minor roles is equally inspired. Other off-kilter touches include a cameo appearance of by stop-motion legend Ray Harryhausen, while an extra good omen comes in the form of Peter Billingsley in a cameo role as an elf workshop manager. Many years ago, Billingsley played the main role in the classic A Christmas Story. Good luck charms can't come better than that.

Elf does have its clumsy patches. The film admittedly feels like a mere showcase of vignettes and skits, not to mention there's a lingering sense of predictability, and it lacks depth. Added to this, Elf is hindered by an overly drawn-out, cheesy climax involving Buddy as he tries to help Santa get his sleigh running when New York loses its Christmas spirit. This entire sequence borders on outright weirdness as soon as a group of mounted police (who resemble the Ringwraiths from the Lord of the Rings trilogy) show up. It is only during this climax that the film feels as if it's sinking into a Christmas movie formula. But even these missteps are not nearly enough to undermine the humour, warmth, charm and intelligence surrounding them.

On Saturday Night Live, Will Ferrell's comic genius was derived from his mastery of one of comedy's most basic ingredients: the necessity to be committed. Nearly anything can be funny, no matter how absurd, as long as the performer believes in what he's doing. If there's a sign of doubt in the actor's eyes - a glimmer of "This is rather silly, isn't it?" - the spell is broken and the humour is diluted. Ferrell constantly demonstrated his sound understanding of this principle during his seven-year SNL stint, and he does it again in Elf - and heavens me, the way he sells his character is hysterical. The sight of the tall, lanky Ferrell in tights alone is enough to elicit uncontrollable burst of laughter, but when he tacks on his persona of a completely innocent, blithely naïve man-child...you can pretty much forget about catching your breath most of the time. While he's outrageously silly when it's called for, there's also sincerity behind his performance. This translates into instant empathy for what is otherwise a totally unrealistic character. Alongside Ferrell, the curmudgeonly James Caan plays Buddy's real father in a rather Scrooge-like manner. And what would a holiday film be without romance? In this case, there's the unbelievably gorgeous Zooey Deschanel whose doe-eyed reserve plays well against Ferrell's ADD bravado. Bob Newhart is certainly worth a mention as well; his dry narration at the beginning and end is witty, well-delivered and very, very funny.

Sure, Elf is obviously a mainstream creation; it's a Christmas film, after all. But it's set apart from the rest of the pack because it works on a variety of levels. It works as a light-hearted family film, a highly energetic comedy, and a holiday film that's as surprising as it is hilarious. Elf will warm the heart, tickle the funny bone, and make Christmas feel like it can't come fast enough.

7.9/10

Ostensibly determined to defecate on one of its most respectable commodities, National Lampoon have begat the abominable, pointless and brain-dead Christmas Vacation 2: Cousin Eddie's Island Adventure. Hoping to get extra mileage out of the Vacation series (which stopped being interesting during the '80s), those responsible for Christmas Vacation 2 dredged up a few familiar faces and placed them in the midst of this plotless, excruciatingly unfunny bedsore of a movie...which is also tagged as a direct sequel to arguably the most beloved Vacation film - 1989's Christmas Vacation - despite the fact it was part three of a four-part film series. Sorry if this doesn't make sense to anyone...

Like most sequels of this ilk, Christmas Vacation 2 bears the stink of being born out of greed and actor desperation. Not even the hopelessly washed-up Chevy Chase needed the work this badly. But Randy Quaid was obviously sick of eating dog food and living in a cardboard box, so he takes centre stage here.

In the film, Cousin Eddie (Quaid) is fired from his job in favour of a monkey. But to avoid a lawsuit when this aforementioned monkey bites Eddie, the company offers him an all-expenses-paid trip to Hawaii for Christmas. Since most of the jokes are derived from the fact that Eddie is unrealistically stupid, he takes this holiday rather than suing the company for thousands of dollars. With his wife Catherine (Flynn), son "Third" (Thompson), uncle Nick (Asner) and nephew Audrey (Barron, reprising the role 20 years after she played it) in tow, Eddie heads to the beaches of Hawaii. Following a boat accident so hackneyed and unfunny that it's not worth describing, everyone becomes stranded on a deserted island where they play Gilligan's Island and refuse to make you laugh for about an hour. What ensues is a string of unrelated, laugh-free "comedy" set-pieces until Eddie and company are eventually rescued. The end. Oh, and while on the island they throw an "Island Christmas" at the insistence of their brain-challenged guide who has one of those overly convoluted foreign names just so everyone can mispronounce it.

Christmas Vacation 2: Cousin Eddie's Island Adventure sucks hard. Oh, so terribly, terribly hard. Not a single laugh escaped this reviewer's wired-shut jaw. Not a single giggle, chortle, or smirk. The filmmakers tried to get laughs. They threw in slapstick, one-liners, sight gags, crazy monkeys, Fred Willard and dirty old men...but to no avail. The end result is as funny and agonising as a pipe wrench to the testicles. It speaks volumes about the quality of the writing when the only sequence with potential for a laugh was one in which Eddie uses the stench of his dog Snots (who farts frequently, of course) to get through the long airport line in a matter of seconds. Matty Simmons, who was the producer of all four Vacation movies, was the screenwriter for Christmas Vacation 2, despite having no previous screenwriting credits. His inexperience is oh-so-obvious. The film was directed by Nick Marck; a television director who has helmed episodes of such TV shows as The Wonder Years, Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Veronica Mars. In spite of his impressive prior efforts, Marck shows no sense of comic timing and has crafted an unbelievably dull motion picture. The screenplay itself was a dud, but Marck's incompetent direction only made it worse.

The primary reason for this movie's failure is the premise of shaping it around Cousin Eddie. Sure, the Griswold saga has run its course, but an Eddie-centric spin-off is hardly an effective solution. It's also hardly a way to let the Vacation series end with a shred of dignity... The character of Eddie worked because he was a foil. He was hilarious because of his juxtaposition with (relatively) normal people, and because of the insults Clark threw at him which never registered. Quaid pulls off his Eddie persona decently enough, but the bottom line is that the character, judged on his own merits, is not funny, and Eddie is not a suitable character to carry his own film.

This leaves the rest of the cast to shoulder the burden...sorry, not happening. Ed Asner never looks remotely interested, Miriam Flynn's Catherine was always a background role so there's not much to mine here, and Sung Hi Lee appears to just be the requisite object of lust. Jack Thompson is flat-out awful. With so many budding actors hoping to break the big time, it's a mystery as to how such talentless failures like Thompson manage to get work. Dana Barron is the only highlight, but only due to the novelty factor since she played the role of Audrey Griswold in the very first Vacation movie in 1983. There's a very unfunny cameo courtesy of Eric Idle as well, who (one supposes) plays the same role he portrayed in European Vacation - the British guy who gets beaten up by accident a lot. Wasn't funny back then, and it's far less funny now. To be fair, even a group of Oscar-winning actors wouldn't make this movie any less dismal.

Perhaps worst of all, Christmas Vacation 2 never even feels like a Christmas movie. This could be attributed to the tropical island setting, or the lack of a delightful Christmas atmosphere. But in all likelihood, it's because of the awful screenwriting that basically tries to cash in on the Christmas Vacation name. Then again, this reviewer might just be a bit of a cynic.

If you're seeking a definitive lesson on how to milk a franchise until there's nothing left but a burnt out, lifeless husk, Christmas Vacation 2 fits the bill. It isn't so bad it's good. It isn't even so bad it's bad. To call it bad would be an insult to all things that are bad. This film hurts one's feeling. It tarnishes the Christmas Vacation label. Depression rates apparently go up at Christmastime, and here's a way to justify that. I believe I've devoted more than enough manpower to write a review of this cinematic abortion. Trust me, you don't want to watch it. You don't even want anything to do with it.

0.5/10

In the grand pantheon of Christmas movies, 1989's National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation - the Griswold family's third (mis)adventure - is undoubtedly one of the best, if not the best. Everyone has a favourite Christmas movie they view as part of their annual Christmas Eve traditions, such as Miracle on 34th Street, Elf, The Santa Clause, Die Hard, or many other titles. But for many film-watchers, including this reviewer, it is Christmas Vacation. The definitive family holiday flick, this third entry in the Vacation series delivers side-splitting gags and a poignant sense of the Christmas spirit, representing the best of mainstream Hollywood Yuletide comedies. It is more enjoyable and rewatchable than A Christmas Story, far jollier than It's a Wonderful Life, and considerably better than the trite festive flicks that pollute multiplexes, television stations and streaming services every year.

In the previous Vacation films, Clark W. Griswold Jr. (Chevy Chase) and his wife, Ellen (Beverly D'Angelo), took their family across America and Europe. However, for this instalment, the Griswold family remains at home in the snowy Chicago suburbs because Clark dreams of having a "fun, old-fashioned family Christmas" with his extended family. Clark will not let anyone or anything get in his way, remaining positive in the face of each new obstacle. Both sets of grandparents arrive to stay in the lead-up to Christmas, while Cousin Eddie (Randy Quaid) also shows up unexpectedly with his wife (Miriam Flynn) and two children (Cody Burger and Ellen Hamilton Latzen). Despite the house filling up and Clark's children, Audrey (Juliette Lewis) and Rusty (Johnny Galecki), expressing their disinterest in quality family time, Clark continually marches on, weathering the storm in a desperate bid to provide a memorable, picture-book holiday. But things grow progressively worse, with Clark drawing the ire of his yuppie neighbours, Todd (Nicholas Guest) and Margo (Julia Louis-Dreyfus), and the dedicated family man growing concerned about the status of his Christmas bonus.

Even though Christmas Vacation is the third Vacation film, it does not necessarily require any knowledge of National Lampoon's Vacation or National Lampoon's European Vacation, feeling more like a standalone Christmas movie than a sequel. (Different actors even play the Griswold children for each instalment.) After scripting the first two instalments, legendary filmmaker John Hughes (The Breakfast Club, Ferris Bueller's Day Off) returned to write Christmas Vacation after Warner Bros. begged him for another Vacation flick, using a 1980 short story from the National Lampoon magazine (entitled "Christmas '59") as the basis for the screenplay. The resulting movie is understandably episodic, but the structure works, with the flick smoothly transitioning from one uproarious comedic vignette to the next while an advent calendar occasionally appears to display the date as the big day draws nearer. With Hughes overseeing the script, there is genuine heart amid the hilarity, encapsulating the spirit of the festive season and conveying an uplifting message. Instead of a message about the birth of Christ or the Three Wise Men, it reminds us about the importance of finding fun and laughter in the little moments that make life special. Without ever becoming mired in cringe-worthy sentimentality, the picture also reiterates that familial relationships truly matter regardless of the disasters that befall us. It also reminds us that you should never light a match near a drain full of sewerage...

Running at a mere 97 minutes, Christmas Vacation moves from one memorable, classic scene to the next, with no dud moments or scenes that fall flat. Scene after scene, the picture is so consistently hilarious that it confidently puts other Christmas comedies to shame, though filmmakers continually try to replicate its lightning-in-a-bottle magic. Christmas Vacation is full of laugh-out-loud moments, from a squirrel attacking the family to Clark riding on a sled at lightning speed, plus Eddie emptying toilet waste into a storm drain as he proclaims, "The shitter was full!". However, the humour is not all broad, as there are clever and subdued moments of hilarity, including sly one-liners ("Dad, you taught me everything I know about exterior illumination!") and subtle sight gags (a Christmas present wrapped in "Happy Birthday" paper). Even though Christmas Vacation carries a PG-13 rating (in contrast to Vacation's R rating), the humour remains crude and vulgar at times, particularly with Cousin Eddie, and the picture never feels unnecessarily neutered by the rating's restrictions. Like many of Hughes's other films, the original script was significantly longer, with a considerable amount of material that did not make the final cut. As of 2024, the deleted material has never seen the light of day despite images of deleted scenes appearing online and the trailer incorporating excised footage.

Undertaking his first feature film after directing music videos, Jeremiah S. Chechik (a replacement for original director Chris Columbus, who helmed Home Alone instead) displays immaculate comedic timing and editorial rhythm. Chechik never lingers on comedic beats for too long, with credited editors Jerry Greenberg and Michael Stevenson maintaining a gloriously brisk pace. Additionally, the soundtrack furthers the Christmas vibe, as the picture incorporates a pleasing mix of timeless Christmas tunes and the Yuletide-soaked original score by Angelo Badalamenti (Blue Velvet, Twin Peaks). From the Griswold family's acapella rendition of Deck the Halls to Ray Charles's The Spirit of Christmas and the terrific opening tune by Marvis Staples that evocatively encapsulates the feeling of Christmas, the soundtrack brims with holiday spirit. The film also opens with an amusing animated segment to set the chaotic mood, a wonderful nod to the classic animated holiday television specials of old.

Christmas Vacation is fascinating in a historical sense because it demonstrates that Chevy Chase was once funny. Although not an honoured thespian, Chase has the iconic role of Clark W. Griswold Jr. down to a tee, starting as optimistic and merry before descending into frustration and anger as he lingers on the brink of a nervous breakdown. Clark also remains likeable because, despite his manic outbursts in the third act, he is simply a hardworking, dedicated family man who wants the best for his loved ones. Luckily, an able ensemble cast surrounds Chase, with Randy Quaid particularly standing out as the repulsive Cousin Eddie, reprising his character from 1983's Vacation. As the long-suffered Ellen, Beverly D'Angelo is a note-perfect foil for Chase, and the pair share believable and endearing chemistry. Clark and Ellen's interactions are often funny, and D'Angelo makes Clark's lunacy all the more hilarious with her frowns and exasperated facial expressions. As the Griswold children, Johnny Galecki and Juliette Lewis are arguably the best actors to tackle these roles, with Galecki generating a few big laughs during scenes alongside Chase.

Other memorable characters who inhabit Christmas Vacation include Cousin Eddie's colourful family, a disgusting dog named Snots, two sets of grandparents (Ellen's mother is played by the late Doris Roberts, who is perhaps best known for her role in the sitcom Everybody Loves Raymond), a cantankerous uncle (William Hickey), and a clueless aunt (Mae Questel, the voice of Betty Boop). Also in the mix are two arrogant neighbours whose decision not to have a big Christmas celebration condemns them to suffer through Clark's shenanigans. Nicholas Guest and Julia Louis-Dreyfus are ideal in these small but important roles, and whenever they appear, you know that something funny is about to occur - and they deserve whatever inconvenience is about to befall them. Bill Murray's brother, Brian Doyle-Murray (Caddyshack, Scrooged), also appears as Clark's greedy, uncaring boss whose Christmas Eve plans are forcibly altered by the Griswold family.

With fans frequently citing it as the best Vacation flick and one of the Christmas films ever made, National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation is an iconic slice of American pop culture that's as synonymous with the festive season as eggnog, trees, turkey and decorations. Chechik transforms Hughes's razor-sharp screenplay into a riotously enjoyable comedy, a rare film that successfully balances humour and poignancy. Every scene will become eternally embedded in your memory, yet you will want to watch it again after the end credits expire. It never gets old, and even after multiple viewings, the feature is still funny. If Christmas Vacation does not make you laugh, you obviously do not understand the true meaning of Christmas - which is, of course, electrified cats, emptying a shitter into a storm drain, and nearly causing an electrical outage from powering up 25,000 lights.

9.1/10

It's strangely appropriate that John Sturges' The Magnificent Seven is a Western remake of Akira Kurosawa's Japanese epic Seven Samurai. After all, Kurosawa has repeatedly said that his work is inspired by American Westerns. While The Magnificent Seven cannot compete with Seven Samurai in terms of visual dexterity or profound thematic complexity, John Sturges' Western-ised adaptation holds up as a rousing action-adventure story as well as a fascinating turning point in the history of films about the Old West. Not only does The Magnificent Seven contain a pitch-perfect cast and a satisfying amount of exciting, gun-slinging action, but it additionally finds time to explore deep contradictions of the mythic noble outlaws which proved so endemic to the American Western genre.

The plot is a simple one, and follows the template established by Kurosawa's Seven Samurai. A small Mexican village is repeatedly raided by a bandit gang led by the menacing Calvera (Eli Wallach) who constantly leaves the villagers destitute. Desperate and fed up with living under Calvera's thumb, several of the villagers travel to a nearby border town in the hope of purchasing guns to defend themselves, but end up simply hiring professional gunmen instead. A total of seven men are recruited, who travel back to the village to confront Calvera and his gang of bandits. Each of the seven men has their own reasons for being involved, but all are united under the common goal of removing fear from the village and overthrowing the evil marauders.

The Magnificent Seven is divided into two distinct halves. The first chronicles the rounding up of the seven gunmen, while the second half recounts the epic battle fought between the gunslingers and Calvera's gang of bandits. Taken at face value, this is standard good vs. evil stuff. But if scrutinised further, one will uncover something much deeper. Sure, the good guys fight off the bad guys heroically, but each character is imbued with a finely-drawn, distinct and interesting personality. The gunmen are masterfully humanised; they're tough guys who have regrets and fears, but manage to do a commendable job of hiding them. Things steadily intensify during the lead-up to the final showdown which displays no mercy even towards the film's most likeable characters. The Magnificent Seven also remains vital and interesting due to departures from the genre norms it opted to take. This was probably the first Hollywood Western in history to delve into the emptiness of the life of a gunfighter; they're confident in their profession, but are unable to hold down a stable home and family life. In a wonderfully judged scene, the seven men discuss the pros and cons of the life they've chosen, and it's apparent this life hasn't greatly rewarded them since they were poor enough to accept this job for which they'll receive little pay.

Of course, The Magnificent Seven wouldn't be considered such a success on characters alone; there are rousing action sequences here as well. In this respect, much of the credit belongs to director John Sturges, an 'outdoor' director who keeps the pacing efficient and has an eye for action set-pieces. Prior to The Magnificent Seven, Sturges was experienced in directing both action films and Westerns with such titles as Gunfight at the O.K. Corral and Bad Day at Black Rock. It's due to the director's extensive experience that when the action happens, it's taut, motivated and convincing, with a strong sense of urgency and a clear notion of what's at stake. The expansive vistas of Western scenery, the codes of honour among the gunslingers, the camaraderie they find in each other, as well as the shootouts so common in Hollywood Westerns are all included here in spades. This fusion of so many irresistible elements raises the film several notches above more typical tales of simplistic cowboy heroes.

Yul Brynner was initially suggested to direct this movie, but Sturges ended up getting the job. Instead, Brynner settled for one of the protagonists - an excellent alternative, because Brynner's performance is outstanding. Another inspired casting choice is Steve McQueen as a member of the titular team. McQueen, who eventually went on to star in Bullitt and The Great Escape, imbues his performance with cool and intensity. He was the ultra-cool male film star of the 1960s, after all. The other five champions of the film are James Coburn, Charles Bronson, Robert Vaughn, Brad Dexter and European film star Horst Buchholz. It's easy to see why these men were cast: all have unique, memorable faces that convey both conviction and desolation. A number of actors got their big breaks in this film, including Steve McQueen, James Coburn and Charles Bronson. It's funny to imagine these actors being relatively unknown at the time. It's also interesting to note that there was a tremendous rivalry between the actors, in particular between Brynner and McQueen. Meanwhile, Eli Wallach is superb playing the menacing, no-nonsense villain. Too many movies allow the lead villain to remain two-dimensional, but this is not the case here.

Upon close examination, there are no real flaws to point out within The Magnificent Seven - it's just flawed in the sense that it feels like an abridged reiteration of Seven Samurai. Other than that, the film is top drawer. It offers drama, strong characterisations, clever writing, action and suspense. It's exciting, witty, smart and sometimes even sweet. Added to this, it's a Western actioner that crosses the line to appeal to movie-lovers of all sorts. Deep down, you know it's not as brilliant as Kurosawa's Seven Samurai...but very few films are.

9.0/10

One thing's for certain: no-one could ever accuse Joel and Ethan Coen of selling out. After the duo achieved perhaps their greatest critical success with No Country for Old Men (for which they collected multiple well-earned Oscars) immediately followed by the box office triumph of Burn After Reading, they've created one of their most befuddling pictures to date. 2009's A Serious Man is a Coen-esque, oddball mixture of black humour and dramatic pathos told from a profoundly Jewish perspective, which simultaneously highlights the film's deep Old Testament roots and offers a unique cultural backdrop rarely seen in Hollywood films. Many critics have highlighted the ostensibly personal nature of A Serious Man, but the Coens (who aren't devout Jews by any means) seem to have just once again selected a specific area of American culture and skewered it to death - and for this venture it just happens to hit a little closer to home.

A Serious Man is essentially a contemporary re-enactment of the Book of Job which transpires in suburban Minnesota during the late 1960s. Physics professor Larry Gopnik (Michael Stuhlbarg) is married, has kids, and holds down a good job, but he becomes trapped in misery: he's up for tenure but anonymous letters are being submitted urging the committee to deny him, his wife is leaving him for a mutual friend (for vague reasons), a frantic Korean student is trying to bribe his way out of a failing grade (then tries to blackmail him for supposedly accepting the bribe), his brother is lost in depression, and his offspring are predominantly disinterested in him (the only thing his son wants is for Larry to fix the TV aerial so that he can watch F-Troop clearly). As the strands of his life begin to unravel, Larry is left to question whether he's been a good man or a serious man, and whether God is even paying attention.

What Larry is unable to understand is why God would force someone who follows all the rules of decency to suffer so much while others seem to get away with anything they want. The Coens present Larry's dilemma without offering any solutions; suggesting that when life gets tough, one has little recourse but to stand firm and take it. Moreover, Larry seeks an answer to explain the troubles suddenly befalling his life by visiting several rabbis. In every case, however, they merely speak in aphorisms and metaphors, and generally beat around the issue without every getting to the heart of it. And this is precisely the point, of course - the Coens don't shy away from the interpretation that it may all mean nothing. The answer Larry seeks is nonexistent because to answer the question of human suffering would be to forever close the gap between humankind and the eternal. It's due to this that the best answer he receives is one he never recognises as such: "Accept mystery". Perhaps if Larry had heard the Hebrew proverb that prefaces the film - "Accept with simplicity everything that happens to you" - the words might have given him solace in his time of need.

An ode to Midwestern Judaism and the havoc of guilt, the Coen Brothers have woven together a truly masterful tapestry of neuroses and personal damage, intercut with enough black humour to alleviate the pervasive dread. By this stage in their career, Joel & Ethan Coen have perfected the art of quirkiness without contrivance. For each new film, they construct their own bizarre universe governed by chance and indifference to the well-being of its inhabitants, while the characters that are subjected to the whims of this dimension are charged with finding a way through it. Like most Coen productions, A Serious Man is inscrutable and challenging, which is most evident during the opening scene: a parable entirely in Yiddish about a husband who invites over to dinner a man who may or may not be a ghost. This parable's relation to the main story is tenuous, but it acts as a nice introduction to this world.

The direction by the Coens is pitch-perfect - it transforms material which could have easily been painful in the hands of others into a hilariously discomforting and mordant comedy. A Serious Man also benefits from remarkable performances from the mostly unknown cast (this is not the type of film that would benefit from the presence of George Clooney). Due to stage actor Michael Stuhlbarg's big-screen anonymity, a viewer can concentrate entirely on the character rather than the actor, and the result is a sensitive, riveting performance. Alongside Stuhlbarg, Fred Melamed is particularly hysterical; he plays a man who cuckolds Larry, and insists on making it up to him with a bottle of wine that he uses as a metaphor for justifying his behaviour. If there's a flaw with A Serious Man, it's the inclusion of oddball divergences that don't have a compelling reason to exist...other than self-indulgence.

Each Coen Brothers production has an immediate, distinct and memorable visual impact (from the snowscape of Fargo to the scorching desert of No Country for Old Men), and this is unchanged here. Technically and artistically, A Serious Man is pure class; capturing the mid-Western Jewish enclave of the '60s with realistic period recreation and comic exaggeration. The neighbourhood in which Larry resides is an immaculate evocation of the suburban neighbourhoods that existed across America in the '50s and '60s (with the widely separated, flattened houses, narrow driveways, and treeless yards). Roger Deakins' exceptional cinematography brings out the right notes of alienation from the expanses of blue-sky suburbia, while further menace is added by Carter Burwell's score and the ominous sound design. That this technical excellence was achieved on a $7 million budget is a miracle.

While A Serious Man is very funny, it's far removed from mainstream cinema, and wouldn't have had a chance in hell of getting made without the Coen Brothers having earned the right. This is largely because the ending (like the beginning) feels random and unsettling; playing out like a spiteful poke in the eye to those who disliked the ambiguity of the final scene of No Country for Old Men. The ending may not bode well for reliable box office, but it stays true to the film's overall tone; reminding viewers that the journey doesn't end just because things are starting to look up. One of the primary themes the film tackles is the randomness of existence and the futility of figuring everything out through mathematical formulas, thus the apparent abruptness of the ending appears to highlight this theme. It also allows plenty of latitude for interpretation. A Serious Man is cinema at its best, leaving your mind in motion long after the credits have rolled.

A Serious Man manages to be at once laugh-out-loud funny and deeply serious. It's also simultaneously troubling and satisfying, warm and bleak, and respectful of its Jewish heritage while mocking its restrictions and false comforts. This is undoubtedly one of the best films the Coens have made to date, and it reconfirms that they are among the most daring and audacious filmmakers currently working in the movie industry, though it's doubtful this film will catch on with a mass audience.

9.3/10

It's doubtful that any Christmas story is as omnipresent as Charles Dickens's A Christmas Carol. Since cinema's very inception, there have been tonnes of motion picture adaptations of this 1843 novella, as well as spoofs and updated variations (the Muppets, Mickey Mouse and even Mr. Magoo have all tackled this Yuletide morality tale). In addition, the characters are ingrained so deeply in popular culture that one only has to utter the name "Scrooge", and the vast majority of the human populace will immediately conjure up images of a grumpy, miserable old curmudgeon who dampens the spirits of those around him. Therefore, it's logical to ask why the world needs another screen version of A Christmas Carol.

The answer is simple: Robert Zemeckis' 2009 picture is a Disney-branded, computer-animated spectacle (in 3-D) appropriate for the digital era. A Christmas Carol is Zemeckis's third attempt at reimagining page-bound stories with cutting-edge performance capture technology to turn flesh-and-blood actors into infinitely malleable digital avatars (his previous efforts being The Polar Express and Beowulf). It's hard not to be impressed with the top-shelf animation, but Zemeckis' A Christmas Carol is nevertheless flawed.

(Synopsis is mostly taken from my review of the 1984 version because I can't be bothered writing another synopsis of the same fucking story)
The embittered old Ebenezer Scrooge (Jim Carrey) is one of the cruellest men in London, and Christmas is his least favourite time of the year. With Christmastime upon him yet again, Scrooge could not care less; he's far more concerned with running his business and torturing assistant Bob Cratchit (Gary Oldman). Upon his arrival home on the evening of Christmas Eve, Scrooge is visited by the ghost of his late business partner Jacob Marley (Gary Oldman again), who warns the old man that his miserly ways may lead to his soul being tormented for eternity. As the night wears on, Scrooge is visited by the Ghost of Christmas Past (also Jim Carrey), the Ghost of Christmas Present (Jim Carrey again) and the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come (still Jim Carrey), who take the bitter man on a grim time-travelling journey.

Zemeckis' script is remarkably faithful to Dickens' original novella, down to insignificant moments and most of the dialogue. This fidelity instantly creates a problem, though. The Victorian English from the original text vastly differs from modern English in terms of grammar, words, syntax and rhythm. Hence, the dialogue here is quite dry, and children will no doubt have trouble deciphering what's being said. Dickens also used societal commentary in his story, which erroneously transfers to Zemeckis' adaptation. The most glaring example is an out-of-place digression in which Scrooge and the Ghost of Christmas Present take time out of their journey to discuss "Sabbatarianism" (the practice of closing businesses on Sunday). Presented in this flick without any specification as to what is being discussed more than a century after it stopped being controversial results in a huge "What the fuck?!" moment. Books should be altered for their translation to the screen. Take the 1984 version of A Christmas Carol - the makers changed the dialogue to give it an engaging new spin, and the result is both spiritually faithful to the novella and more comprehensible.

Sticking slavishly to Dickens' novella could have worked, but Zemeckis wasn't just aiming for a loyal page-to-screen transplantation; A Christmas Carol also aspires to be a flashy, adamantly Hollywoodised 3-D blockbuster with broad appeal. Thus, the film tries to have it both ways, with elaborate set pieces and moments of inane physical comedy. To pander to the 3-D gimmick, Zemeckis overplays the action a few times to underscore various things in an unnecessarily obvious, overdone fashion when a more low-key approach would have sufficed (an elongated chase through the streets of London is the most egregious - it's borderline painful). It's clear that this material is present to keep the kids awake, but the picture as a whole is too scarifying and dark for tots.

Oddly enough, however, A Christmas Carol still gels for the most part, as the most offensive action only occurs in the final third. Furthermore, director Zemeckis is astonishingly competent at staging expositional scenes, making the dry dialogue less of a problem. This is also a technically jaw-dropping picture. The film opens with a superlative tracking shot that takes us on an aerial tour of Victorian-era London. A Christmas Carol was released in 3-D, with extraordinary extra-dimensional effects. The glasses may be a nuisance, but the most memorable and enjoyable way to experience this picture is in 3-D. The score by the criminally underrated Alan Silvestri also deserves credit, as it encapsulates the flavour of the Christmas season (it even contains notes from various Christmas carols) on top of carrying a general old-fashioned 19th-century aura. On a less positive note, characters in motion capture movies are often plagued by "dead-eye syndrome", and (despite technological advancements since 2004's The Polar Express) A Christmas Carol cannot convincingly overcome this problem. It's getting there, but Zemeckis' technology has not come far enough to give his animated characters a soul. After viewing behind-the-scenes footage of the original performances, it also seems that the computers failed to replicate all the nuances of the performances.

Working overtime is star Jim Carrey, who plays several key roles here. Carrey is an interesting and unusual casting choice, given that Scrooge is defined by his bitter stasis, whereas Carrey is best known for his brand of comedic performance. Yet, as Carrey has proved in films like Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, he is hardly a one-trick pony. And fortunately, the actor does an admirable job. His voice for Scrooge feels lived-in, and, amazingly, Carrey successfully inhabits several different characters with different mannerisms and different voices. Meanwhile, the rest of the cast are uniformly impressive - the likes of Gary Oldman, Robin Wright Penn, Cary Elwes and Bob Hoskins all make appearances, and all of them fulfil their duties to a high standard.

Although this A Christmas Carol doesn't illuminate or expand upon Dickens' original story in any new or meaningful ways, it is a visually engrossing, atmospheric and, at times, emotive retelling. Perhaps the world didn't need yet another Christmas Carol movie, but Zemeckis' effort is not exactly undesirable - it has more heart and carries more weight than Hollywood's usual festive output. It's a shame that Zemeckis' script wasn't given a thorough makeover before the virtual cameras began to roll. Mark this one as "flawed but enjoyable and admirable".

6.7/10

With 2009's Avatar, visionary director James Cameron proves that there's at least one filmmaker in Hollywood capable of putting a $300 million budget (or was it $500 million?) to good use. Cameron's first feature film outing since 1997's Titanic, this hotly-touted flick has spent years brewing in post-production and triggered fevered discussion about the possibilities of its revolutionary digital effects (developed in part by the hands-on director himself). Up until the mid-months of 2009, Avatar had been shrouded in secrecy (dedicated internet fanboys can attest to this fact), but one thing was made clear: it would be a groundbreaking cinematic event, and the advanced motion-capture technology would elevate filmmaking to the next level. While the storytelling and characterisations admittedly remain stuck in the past, Avatar is visual moviemaking 2.0 in an extremely satisfying and exhilarating way. As long as you're not one of those people who've made up their minds prior to viewing Cameron's latest masterwork (in other words, if you're not one of those who brand the film as a Fern Gully rip-off and criticise the CGI as videogame-calibre), Avatar is a tremendously rewarding, soulful experience.

Set in the year 2154, the Earth is dying and faraway planets are being targeted for strip-mining. In a neighbouring star system lies the exotic-but-deadly planet of Pandora; the source of an ultra-valuable mineral known as Unobtainium. Naturally, a sinister corporation has set up base on the planet and wishes to commence their operation. Standing in their way, however, is the indigenous population of Pandora - the Na'vi; a race of tall, blue-skinned tree-dwellers whose civilisation rests atop possibly the richest deposit of Unobtainium in existence, but have no desire to relocate. Enter the "Avatar" program, which sees people transfer their consciousness to half-human, half-Na'vi hybrids which can be controlled telepathically. It's hoped that through this program, the aliens can be gently persuaded to move out of mankind's way. Soon, a disabled ex-marine named Jake Sully (Worthington) is unwillingly thrust into the situation when his twin brother suddenly dies. Through using his Avatar, Jake is accepted as part of a Na'vi tribe and falls in love with a female Na'vi warrior named Neytiri (Saldana). With an epic battle for the fate of Pandora drawing dangerously close, Jake must choose his side.

Cameron wastes no time before plunging viewers straight into the world of Pandora; not even allowing any time for an audience to adjust to this breathtaking new technology. In a masterfully efficient opening 10 minutes, writer-director Cameron introduces everything one will need to know for the following 2½ hours - about Pandora's climate and population, about Jake's situation, about the ruthless plans of the humans and about the Avatar program. From that point onwards, the film is off and running. At an intimidating 160 minutes, Avatar never feels too long or flabby - there's just so much movie crammed into these 160 epic minutes: the human stories, the Na'vi stories, the bio-diversity of the planet, and above all the warfare, with Jake joining the resistance against his former allies. While things are slowed down for the middle hour as Jake's infiltration operation gestates, it's astonishing how brilliantly-paced the film is. Unlike other CGI-heavy movies against which Avatar will be judged (including the abominable Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen and Terminator Salvation), Cameron's movie is superbly constructed; using all 160 minutes to judiciously build characters and establish relationships before all the strands culminate for an epic, action-packed climax. Since such a perfect emotional connection is built, a viewer will care about what happens to the protagonists and the Na'vi tribe.

In terms of storyline, Avatar offers nothing unprecedented. The plot is reminiscent of the likes of Dances with Wolves and The New World, in which a 'civilised' westerner lives amongst a supposedly backwards society and slowly sides with the noble savages. Heck, the characters are largely predictable too. But in the context of the movie, all these elements come together perfectly. The fact that it all succeeds is a testament to Cameron's skill at working formula and familiar story elements with a skilful dexterity very few can match. Of course, Avatar is not just about spectacle and action (though both elements are offered in spades) - it's primarily a love story. This is hardly surprising, of course, since more or less every Cameron film is a love story at its core (Titanic, The Terminator, etc). The surprise here is the effectiveness of the central coupling, thanks in large part to Weta's staggering digital effects. It's impossible to overstate how real the Na'vi look; every facial movement, and every movement in general seems organic. They may not always appear photo-real, but they do seem alive. The dead-eye problem plaguing motion capture movies for years has been well and truly solved - these CGI characters are imbued with a soul.

James Cameron and his crew created Pandora from the ground up using a mixture of motion-capture techniques and computer-generated animation. As a result, Avatar is an astonishing feast for the eyes, with ethereal, invigorating shots and sequences genuinely unlike anything you've ever seen before. The level of immersive detail displayed in this tour de force is extraordinary. But the true success is in the seamlessness - not a single shot stands out as blatant green screen. Live-action and digital elements are so skilfully integrated that the point where the live-action ceases and the digital effects begin is impossible to determine, which ensures the illusion is unbroken. Pandora truly feels like a living, breathing world, and it's as if Cameron is the planet's most enthusiastic tour guide. James Horner's score, meanwhile, is atmospheric and appropriate; gloriously supporting the exotic beauty of the jungles of Pandora (though it lacks a memorable underlying theme as a hook).

One thing that distinguishes Cameron from young pretenders like Michael Bay and McG is that he anchors his epic visions with relatable emotions handled with utmost sincerity. Of course, it also helps that Cameron remains one of the best action directors in the business. Avatar concludes with a climactic showdown between human and Na'vi forces - it's a battle royale of excitement, thrills and tragedy that's both truly epic and rivetingly intimate. It's a wonder to behold. In a decade where action choreography is constantly masked by frantic editing, Cameron proves himself once again to be the old-school master. Younger filmmakers should also take note of the prudent use of 3-D which is perceived as an enhancement rather than a gimmick. Cameron never garishly breaks the fourth wall since the 3-D is employed to generate a sense of depth - a viewer feels like they're glancing into an open window of another world. Never before has the effect felt so unintrusive; never before has CGI felt so natural, necessary and alive. If you plan to see the film in 2-D via DVD or a downloaded version filmed from within a cinema...there's no talking to you. Avatar is a cinematic experience and an event, not a mere film.

It's crucial to note that, in most cases, cinematic displays of new technology are rubbish. The technology is usually then refined, and applied to a superior movie. But this is not good enough for James Cameron, who has managed to push the boundaries with new technology while simultaneously creating an excellent, full-throttle piece of entertainment. Avatar is also rather reminiscent of the great epics of yesteryear - from Spartacus to Gone with the Wind. Such classics relied on universal themes and enthralling characters to drive their sprawling narratives, and Avatar is no different. It's stirring drama on a vast canvas painted with broad brush-strokes, and the audience is powerless to prevent themselves from being swept up in the action and emotion.

As Jake Sully, Sam Worthington places forth a charming and spellbinding performance (both in and out of his Avatar). His soulful eyes are an asset; a quality that's retained and magnified in his Na'vi form. Zoe Saldana, however, is the standout as Neytiri. For her entire performance she plays behind a CGI face, yet she makes Neytiri into a thoroughly multi-faceted character endowed with a fully conveyed emotional personality. Witnessing Sigourney Weaver re-teaming with James Cameron is a joy (a good omen, since Aliens is one of Cameron's best film). Even if it's only a small part, Weaver's role as the chief scientist is a memorable and integral part of the narrative. Every minor character - no matter how clichéd - is played with gusto and earnestness by the marvellous cast (a group of talented thespians, rather than big stars). Stephen Lang clearly relished the opportunity to play the evil Colonel Quaritch. Also in the cast is an underused but nonetheless extremely effective Michelle Rodriguez as a sympathetic pilot, on top of the endearing Giovanni Ribisi who's pitch-perfect as another corporate scumbag.

In creating Avatar, James Cameron additionally inserts undertones relating to corporate greed, as well as complex questions about what it means to be human. Underneath the spectacle are subtle equivalences to the Vietnam and Iraq Wars, but these are not restricted by any means - the story is broad enough to apply to any indigenous race under threat from superior external imperialist forces. Avatar clearly sides with the Na'vi population, and portrays the Americans as the monsters. Some might find the environmental message of the film too preachy, but it never openly shoves this agenda down our throats; it simply sits beneath the surface, ripe for analysis if we choose to dig further. In spite of its strengths, Avatar does lean slightly towards spectacle over script; the story is no dud, but while discussing the movie you'll be inclined to discuss what you've seen, rather than quote lines (there's no killer banter). Minor script flaws aside, this is a superb blockbuster. It has to be seen on the big screen - in 3-D, no less.

9.55/10

The Polar Express assumes the status of Christmas Classic from the get-go without even bothering to earn it. With Chris Van Allsburg's short, gorgeously illustrated children's book as its source material, Robert Zemeckis' $165-million CGI extravaganza at first seems like a quaint, if technologically savvy ode to the Christmas spirit from a child's perspective, but it soon transforms into a nonsensical, soulless, emotionally-divorced series of blockbuster-style adrenaline rushes that are presented with messy CGI.

The protagonist of this story is an average young boy (Sabara) from an average home in an average town. Everything about this boy is so bland that he is apparently not even worth a name - in the credits he's officially listed as "Hero Boy". Despite this character having the appearance of a 13-year-old, he's apparently in the midst of that childhood period when one begins to lose faith in the existence of Santa. As he settles into bed on Christmas Eve night, an incredible racket has him racing downstairs where he stumbles upon, of all things, a steam locomotive pulling up in front of his house (apparently the noise doesn't wake up his family or neighbours, mind you). The conductor (Hanks) invites the boy onboard to take a journey to the North Pole with many other pyjama-clad children. It would seem that Hero Boy's neglectful parents didn't teach him to avoid rides with strangers... (Seriously, what kind of message is this movie trying to send?)

Once on the train, Hero Boy has a series of adventures with the other children on their way to meet jolly St. Nick and reaffirm their belief in the spirit of Christmas. In other words, The Polar Express delivers the same feel-good message that almost every holiday movie has spoon-fed children for decades. Furthermore, upon arriving at the North Pole it becomes clear the movie is all build-up, no pay-off - Santa's city is mostly vacant in terms of magic. The film's theme also suggests that you better believe in Santa, or else you're not worth it. At the North Pole, Hero Boy can get any gift he desires, and he chooses to receive a sleigh bell from Santa's sled. Hero Boy and his sister can hear the bell ring, but his parents cannot and assume it is broken. It's constantly underlined that only "believers" can hear the sound of the bell. *facepalm*

Director Robert Zemeckis touted The Polar Express as a major technological breakthrough in computer-generated imagery. The most significant development is the "performance capture" techniques, for which actors can perform while covered in computer-readable dots that translate their motions into digitised imagery. But the one hurdle that filmmakers have always been unable to leap for animated movies is the recreation of photorealistic humans. Zemeckis wanted us to believe The Polar Express not only cleared the hurdle, but sprinted further down the track. But it hasn't. Not even close. The technical crew have achieved painterly beauty with the stunningly detailed environments, but the film is drastically sunk by the uncanny creepiness of the CGI characters - they look like wax figures possessed by the devil. The problem is that the technology in its current form cannot capture the human soul, thus the characters' glassy eyes and gaping hollow mouths stand out as shockingly devoid of life. Looking at side-by-side comparisons of the live-action actors and their digitalised counterparts, one thing is obvious: the computers sap the life and intensity out of a perfectly good performance. On top of this, most of the characters never look quite right in their movement, resulting in detailed humans who jerk around and look strange. If Zemeckis allowed real actors to appear in computer-generated landscapes or had given the animated characters a cartoonish appearance to push them into the realm of imaginary, the film might have worked. Instead, the CGI recreations fall into a strange netherworld between the real and the animated; the believable and the unbelievable. They're neither here nor there, which is the source of their unsettling creepiness.

Zemeckis pads Van Allsburg's slim book out to a feature-length 100 minutes using manufactured action set-pieces that grow silly and repetitive. There's an apparent fondness for vertigo-inducing rollercoaster sequences in which the train speeds uncontrollably up and down mountains, hills, or any other excuse for a steep incline. But these types of sequences are easily spotted as what they are: gimmicks to make the most of the technology. Crucially, there's no thrill to the action, which comes back to the hollow animation techniques. To add further padding, Zemeckis introduces forced slapstick comedy, useless digressions (what was the point of the ghost hobo?), and physics-defying goofiness that undercuts the attempt at photorealism. Worst of all, however, are the terrible, terrible, terrible musical numbers featuring horrid, fluffy tunes ostensibly made to grate. The Polar Express would've fared better as a 45-minute television special.

The vocal talent is provided by a diverse cast including such names as Tom Hanks, Tom Hanks, Tom Hanks, Tom Hanks and a formerly unknown actor named Tom Hanks. Yep, the majority of the voices/character appearances are courtesy of Hanks, who sadly proves himself unable to fill the Peter Sellers-sized shoes required of him in the film. The actor tries not to sound too much like himself in each role, but largely fails. And seriously, what was the point of casting Hanks as the body of the Hero Boy when the character bares not a whit of resemblance to the actor and is voiced by a second actor? Gimmick is everything in The Polar Express, and casting executive producer Tom Hanks in almost every major role is the most obvious case in point.

The ultimate message of The Polar Express is not exactly agreeable. The Hero Boy rediscovers his belief in Santa, but surely this can't be the be-all and end-all of the Christmas season... There's a bitter tinge of selfishness underneath the surface of the moral of the story that seems out of place for the season of giving. Isn't there more to Christmas than receiving gifts? The Polar Express is a stiff, aloof snoozer of an experiment that fails on just about every level. It has visual elements worth admiring, but it's overwhelmed by the syrupy schmaltz, the miscalculated action scenes, and the considerably misjudged character animation. A viewer will walk away knowing they've experienced something Christmassy, but they won't have been won over by the holiday spirit. The best Christmas films fill our hearts and make us believe, whereas The Polar Express just makes us shrug.

3.2/10

The storyline of Christmas with the Kranks involves a married couple opting to forgo all Yuletide festivities for one year. You'd almost certainly skip Christmas too, if you had to endure Surviving Christmas, The Polar Express and now Christmas with the Kranks all in the one year. This glut of horrible films confirms that it's far more difficult to craft an effective Christmas movie than one might imagine. Memorable examples of festive movies are rarer than flying reindeer, and the fact that writer Chris Columbus was once involved with one (Home Alone) doesn't guarantee repeat success. Christmas with the Kranks, which was adapted from the John Grisham novel Skipping Christmas (the title was changed to avoid confusion with Surviving Christmas), is a through-and-though dud; joyless, laughless and boring. The nicest thing which can be said about it is that it's at least mildly better than Surviving Christmas, but oh boy is that a backhanded compliment...

Luther (Allen) and Nora (Curtis) Krank are upset over the prospect of spending Christmas without their daughter (Gonzalo) who has joined the Peace Corps. So the two Kranks (Get it? Kranks? What comic genius!) decide to skip Christmas for the year, and use the money they'd normally spend on annual holiday traditions to instead take a Caribbean cruise. For reasons never quite logical enough to work, Luther also decides to "boycott" everything to do with Christmas. This extends to not buying gifts, not sending Christmas cards, refusing to decorate their home, not returning a "Merry Christmas" gesture to a friendly passer-by, and taking absolutely no part in the neighbourhood gatherings or parties. Meanwhile Nora, who lacks any kind of backbone, just goes along with it. That is, until a convenient plot wrinkle ensures everyone will have to pull together and enjoy some holiday spirit, and the film turns all sentimental despite the fact it has not earned the right to do so.

Look, the idea of simply skipping Christmas is fine, and Luther & Nora have a good reason to blow their Christmas budget on something more fun. They don't hate Christmas and their feelings haven't changed...they'll even be celebrating the following year. Unfortunately, the Kranks have the grave misfortune of living in one of those sitcom-type neighbourhoods where everyone knows everyone else's business, and the idea of a house on the block not draining power with an outdoor light display is outrageous. As part of the film's uneven attempt to turn itself into a jolly holiday farce, the neighbours (lead by Vic Frohmeyer - played by Dan Aykroyd as a bullying, Chicago-style ward boss) have nothing better to do with their time, and begin protesting. In other words, the entire neighbourhood believe they know what's best for the Kranks and have every right to harass them to a disconcerting degree, and the movie acts as if their actions are perfectly normal. Why they care so much is anybody's guess.

Once a major plot contrivance surfaces, the Kranks decide they want to celebrate Christmas now. Suddenly the film abandons the idea of Christmas as a shallow, vapid, expensive, cult-like celebration, and instead transforms into a sappy celebration of the meaning of Christmas. Attempts at being funny are dropped, and the film becomes unforgivably lame as it deflates into a confused mess. Christmas with the Kranks can't decide whether it wants to condemn the gift-powered holiday or laud it as a community experience. It alternates between these competing ideologies while struggling to find humour in the overacting characters. Even weirder is the film's final shot which features a waving CGI snowman and the unexpected emergence of Santa in a fucking Volkswagen Beatle being pulled by magical reindeer. The large gaps in logic haven't even been mentioned yet - like why would Luther's neighbour agree to let him "borrow" their Christmas tree overnight? How did Frohmeyer's son get the keys to a set of handcuffs, and why on Earth would he release a detained prisoner so he could grab food at the Kranks' party?

The illogical plot points and lack of realism could be forgiven, if only there were laughs to be had. But Christmas with the Kranks relies on tired physical comedy and badly-written dialogue - it plays out like a series of sitcom outtakes. People get comically electrocuted, carollers slip on ice, Nora is caught in a bikini by a minister, there's the painfully predictable race for the last of a certain food item in stock, and Luther takes a predictable header when he's trying to install a gigantic snowman on the roof. I put the question to you: has Tim Allen EVER been part of a movie in which he didn't fall off a roof? Like TV sitcoms, character development can best be described as perfunctory too. There's no-one in this movie worth caring about. Behind the camera is Joe Roth, the chairman of Revolution Studios, who demonstrates yet again that he should stick to signing paychecks instead of helming multi-million dollar film productions.

The whole message of the movie is to not be so selfish, but it's incredibly selfish of the neighbours to demand the Kranks follow their demands to the letter, and that they try to enforce their demands using any means possible. If one looks deep into the "message" of this movie, one will unveil a more disturbing notion: it suggests that the only way to find peace is to do exactly what your neighbours are doing...to give into peer pressure and don't dare to be different. How fucking lovely.

Christmas with the Kranks also lacks the heartfelt simplicity and sublime truths evident in other Christmas classics. There's no emotional core here - only sloppy excess, random broad strokes, and a decided lack of conviction from filmmakers and performers alike. Both Tim Allen and Jamie Lee Curtis are disagreeable and utterly flat. Curtis in particular goes ballistic with her over-the-top performance. And has no-one bothered to inform Allen that the mugging, one-note performance style that served him well in TV does not translate well to the big screen? It's impossible to feel love in the relationship between Nora and Luther, and there's an inescapable sense that this couple is tired of being together - thus we soon become tired of watching them together. Given that the Kranks' decision to skip Christmas is based solely on economic consideration rather than a sense of self discovery (or desire for heartfelt change), the duo often feel callous and shallow. By the time their inevitable reorientation towards the Christmas spirit arrives, the characters aren't likeable - why the fuck do we care when they finally find enlightenment?

Christmas with the Kranks could've been a satirical condemnation of the commercialism and consumerism of Christmas. It could have been a clever jab at the pressure that communities exert on non-conformists. Or it could have been a hilarious, old-fashioned string of mishaps (a bit like National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation). But this tripe fails on all accounts. There's not enough edge for the satirical elements to work, and the cloying melodrama interferes with the ham-fisted attempts at comedy. This is the sort of film that leaves you thinking that Ebenezer fuckin' Scrooge had the right idea about the festive season.

1.9/10

Vince Vaughn and the Christmas comedy genre don't appear to be a winning pair-up. Only one year after 2007's Fred Claus, Vaughn has decided to take a second swipe at the festive season, resulting in the mirthless, utterly joyless Four Christmases. It's by-the-numbers, instantly forgettable, mysteriously star-ridden and it contains no laughs. Not one. Zilch. Zero.

Like all recent studio-produced Christmas comedies, the premise behind Four Christmases is rather promising. The protagonists - Brad (Vaughn) and Kate (Witherspoon) - have been a couple for three years and are adamantly against marriage. Every year as Christmas approaches, the couple feed their two sets of divorced parents a fabricated story about travelling to a third-world country to do charity work, whilst in reality they jet off to a tropical paradise to celebrate the season in sunnier settings. However, this year a fog rolls in and flights are cancelled, so Brad and Kate have no choice but to spend the day visiting their estranged families.

One would assume that a couple being forced to visit their crazy relatives would result in amusing situations, but the comic interludes here are sitcom level at best. With each subsequent visit, Four Christmases progressively grows less amusing and more tedious. Each home presents its own set of obstacles, most of which are unbelievably predictable. For instance Brad's brothers are cage-fighters who beat the shit out of him, and his father is a cranky old coot. Kate's female relatives are sex-crazed, especially the elderly ones...because there's nothing funnier than a horny grandma, of course. And there's a baby that must inevitably throw up on someone. These unfunny situations are loaded with obnoxiously unfunny jokes, and eventually fizzle into climax-free nothingness. The biggest drawback of Four Christmases is the inconsistent tone. The film is mean-spirited, uncomfortable slapstick comedy for the first three-quarters before dissolving into unearned mush and sentiment for the final quarter. The tonal shift fails because the characters are underdeveloped. Brad & Kate are comedic caricatures, and trying to make an audience care about their circumstances during the final act simply doesn't work due to lack of depth.

Things aren't aided by the fact the protagonists are written as bratty assholes - their cover story of charity work in third-world countries is terrible, and throughout the movie the couple come off as snarky and bitter. Even more insulting is that the characters make hardly any sense. After three years of living together, they haven't once spoken about having children or getting married? Brad hasn't told Kate his real name? Kate never showed Brad photos from her childhood, or revealed any of her big secrets? At no point did either of them mention the nature of their families?

There is one inspired element of Four Christmases: the hiring of director Seth Gordon, who deftly constructed the video game documentary The King of Kong. It's not that Gordon is outgunned here, but there's a distinct lack of authority permeating the mood of the film. It'd be tough to blame the director for the ultimate failure of the picture, since it was doomed from the very outset, but Gordon nevertheless directs Four Christmases as if it were a television movie. Mercifully, the film is quite brief at about 88 minutes, so at least this mean-spirited affair doesn't have too much time to get under your skin.

The level of ineptness also extends to Witherspoon and Vaughn. One would assume the two would be able to carry any screenplay, but the material is so incredibly thin that not even Al Pacino and Meryl Streep could've made it work. Vaughn is usually left to carry the load, which he does by essentially playing the same character he always plays: the slick, cool, fast-talking, know-it-all dude. But it ain't enough. It doesn't work. Neither Vaughn nor Witherspoon exudes much in the way of energy. It's baffling that this pile of crap was sold to these actors. They are both credited as producers too, which raises the bafflement level even further.
The supporting cast is equally hopeless. Jon Favreau is wasted on a throwaway role with very few lines and no opportunity to exploit the well-practised chemistry he shares with Vince Vaughn. Next up, there's the usually brilliant Robert Duvall. His character is even more flavourless than Favreau's role, and it's sickening to witness Duvall being backed into "comical" screaming and yelling. There are also roles assigned to Sissy Spacek, Mary Steenburgen, Jon Voight, Tim McGraw and Kristen Chenoweth. That's a total of five Academy Award-winners in this cast. What on Earth is going on here?

The question that must be asked about Four Christmases is...why?! Why did so many top-notch actors choose to be in it? Did they need to boost their box office cache? Did their agents talk them into it? Did they not read the script? One must also wonder why this film was ever green-lit in the first place, and why it wasn't shut down when the completely humourless dailies started rolling in (especially considering the film's elephantine $80 million budget). If Vince Vaughn wants to ruin Christmas, he's on the right track with Fred Claus and Four Christmases. Another cinematic coal lump could permanently beat the Christmas spirit out of this reviewer. Families - or anyone - seeking holiday fun will not find it in Four Christmases, so look elsewhere (like the liquor cabinet).

2.5/10