‘Tis the Season to Be Jolly?
**Warning – contains some spoilerage**
Christmas time is right around the corner. Decorations are being put up, credit cards are being maxed out, and cantankerous old relatives are being flown in for the requisite awkward domestic atmosphere. You know, all the usual good stuff. Though with the economy in the tank the way it is and people being layed-off in the tens of thousands all across the nation, this year more than ever we desperately find ourselves in need of some holiday cheer of bailout proportions.
As is customary during every holiday season many people turn to the movies. They’re cheap (relatively), they’re fun (providing whatever you’re watching doesn’t have Mark Wahlberg in it), and they also go a long way towards offsetting that aforementioned awkward domestic atmosphere. But to look at this year’s post-Thanksgiving line-up it’s a small wonder people aren’t walking out of theater right in front of the nearest bus, because boy is there some epic misery on display right now.
What exactly was on offer to those looking to quietly unbutton those top pant buttons in a darkened theater somewhere on Turkey Day? Well at a butt-numbing two hours forty-five minutes Baz Luhrmann’s romantic melodrama Australia was a non-starter for anyone with fidgety kids or elderly relatives in tow, which was pretty much everybody. So that left three choices; a self-absorbed yuppie couple paying lip service to family members they can’t stand in Four Christmases. Alternatively, fresh off a demoralizing “no” on prop-8 there was Milk, the somber biography of Harvey Milk, the first openly gay man elected to public office who was assassinated for his trouble (but not until he drives one former lover to despair and another to suicide). Finally there was Transporter 3, which aside from requiring you to have seen the first two was, well, a just a little bit shit.
But based on what we have to look forward to between now and Christmas that little lot begins to resemble It’s a Wonderful Life by comparison. Yes, The Day the Earth Stood Still looks good for a big budget laugh but any enjoyment is offset by having to endure Keanu Reeves trying to act. There’s plenty of lustful passion heating up between a holocaust survivor and his enigmatic lover in The Reader. That is until he discovers she was a guard at the camp he was at and she kills herself over the guilt of it.
While it is biologically impossible to enjoy watching Will Smith watching him in Seven Pounds as a man also ravaged by guilt spend two hours meticulously putting his affairs in order before he too tops himself really does test the limits of his appeal. If you fancy something slightly more grand there is always Che, which over two self-contained halves (it’s illegal to make any film that long that isn’t a vanity project by Kevin Costner) will show you how one man’s grueling self-sacrifice was boiled down to a vacuous poster adorning the walls of whiney suburban teenagers everywhere. And don’t even get us started on Marley & Me…
Yes, art is supposed to imitate life, but with morale at an all time low should not going to the movies, the ultimate exercise is escapism, give us a lift as opposed to a grim kick in the teeth? Yes these films are powerful and provocative. Yes they feature some stellar writing and the kind of performances that will likely make the Academy purr like a fluffy kitten on the receiving end of a belly scratch. But they can’t possibly be anyone’s idea of a good time and at Christmas, especially this Christmas, surely that’s what’s most important?
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