The Christmas Chronicles 2 Review

"The Christmas Chronicles 2" is a lot of movie. There are violent elves, time travel, broken families, and still it finds time for a musical number (no doubt the best part of the entire picture).

Again we follow Kurt Russell's suave, silver-foxed portrayal of Santa, as his path crosses with a young girl Kate, played by Darby Camp, for some sappy Hallmark holiday magic, only for ex-elf Belsnickel (Julian Dennison) to crash the party to steal Christmas. The confused narrative doesn't stay in one place long enough for any of the dramatic moments to have any heft, but hey, its yuletide spirit remains consistent, and wears you down until you're won over by its kitschy charm.

To go into detail of the plot would be a disservice to its manic charisma, but in short, its up to Santa to win back Christmas AND get Kate and her other stowaway Jack, played by Jahzir Bruno, her soon-to-be half-brother, or so she fears at least. It's a shame their roles aren't occupied by more convincing kid actors, as they entertain most of the runtime, and by the end you're kind of sick of their saccharine performances. It doesn't help that their personalities are defined by what adults think children are like (she misses her dad and he's a worry-wart), but it's times like this that you pine for someone like Mara Wilson, star of director Chris Columbus' own "Mrs. Doubtfire," among others, who's natural screen presence could meld any ponderous script into believable gold. 

Talent like hers is missed, as the child acting here feels like they're auditioning for a commercial- smiling after every line delivery. Even the villain is oddly static, a credible threat not onscreen but only because the script demands he be. Hell, even the CGI monstrosities that are elves are more pleasing to the eye (and there are like a million of them).

That represents the other major issue with the picture, the visuals. While they have a sort of studio-backlot glamour to them, something you might find in a mall around December (well, maybe not this year), there's a gloomy dampness to every shot, a sort of artificial darkness that distracts from the whimsy that these scenes should invoke. This overreliance on computer-generated effects is glaring, from the sleigh riding to Santa's Workshop (or was that "Mrs. Santa's Workshop" now?); it's obvious where the real set ends and where the computers take over. Even the snow looks fake- it's 2020 and we still can't get snow to look real in the movies?!

I dunno. There's a lot going on at any one time that it'll surely hold the attention of the millions of Netflix-subscribing tykes. And the parents? Well, they're just be happy with the peace and quiet.

As for the film itself, none of these musing matter, because towering above all the inadequacies is the great Kurt Russell as Saint Nicholas himself, and the irresistible Goldie Hawn, as who else but Mrs. Claus. They were born to play these roles, and fill the screen with a chemistry that only almost forty years of dating can create. Your eyes can't leave their toothy smiles and huge personalities, a wonderful duo clearly having so much fun that it forces you to join in on the joy. Would the inevitable "Christmas Chronicles 3" benefit from tighter dialogue and a more cohesive plot? Of course! But only if these two return. In the meantime, number 2 ain't so bad.

Fatman Review

What if Santa went bankrupt? Here's another one- what if a hitman was going after Santa?! Oh I've got one more- what if Mel Gibson played Santa?

See this is what they call a "high concept" film, and these three disparate narratives are awkwardly sewn together in the new movie "Fatman," only it's never as emotional, thrilling or funny as any of those gimmicks suggest. It's instead a slow, confused and turgid cocktail of too many genres, though the few sparkles of imagination present do go along way.

Mel Gibson of course plays Mr. Claus, who drinks his way through the daily, dull life of being Father Christmas. He's pretty good here, though the script fails to see the satire in having such a controversial figure play such a beloved character. He utters I think one swear, and seems to love all people of all places. That's not the Gibson I read about in the tabloids.

His doting wife, the wonderfully charming but ultimately accessory Marianne Jean-Baptiste, bakes him cookies as he crunches the numbers, fixes up the sled and checks up on the elves. Only these aren't your normal Hollywood elves- these are just relatively short but extremely efficient factory workers.

But the numbers aren't so good- on the verge of going under, the government steps in to have Santa's Workshop work on... something for their military. Suddenly the money's there to save next Christmas, even if it means Uncle Sam is oblivious to the potential of having someone on their payroll who knows "who's been bad or good" and when the bad is sleeping (and no doubt hiding). Honestly, am I the only one who's heard that song?

At the same time, the tyrant of a child Billy (Chance Hurstfield), frustrated by the lump of coal under his tree, exploits his sickly grandma's wealth to put a hit out on the man in red. The man for the job is Miller, played by Walton Goggins, who has unpleasant feelings towards old man Cringle of his own. There's a throwaway line about him not getting his dead parent's back, but I dunno, there isn't much effort put into character development here. What you see is what you get. Are you the kind of person who thinks seeing Goggins as an assassin, out to get Mel Gibson as Satna, is pure comedic gold? Well, this is the movie for you.

Problem it's not terribly funny. There are a few pieces of glib dialogue, but it's primary agenda is to keep the plot moving along, albeit slowly. It has the potential to be clever, a level of sensationalism, whimsy and hilarity that lives just below the surface of its approximate 100 minute runtime, but it's never the film we ever end up watching.

That doesn't make it a family movie either. Between the rare display of potty mouth, every bullet that lands results in a big pool of blood or splatter. But that's another problem- this is far tamer than something like last year's "Rambo: Last Blood," for example, so if they weren't going to go "all in," why bother showing any violence at all?

It comes down to concept, and how the three (or more, I wasn't counting) just don't jell into a cohesive picture. It's a neutered, frequently boring execution of some pretty interesting ideas that sucks the inherit fun out of the outrageous stunt-casting.

Maybe next time, get an actor who's actually fat to play the title character in a movie called Fatman. Or, at least have a script smart enough to mention this irony.