RED ONE

Directing: C-
Acting: C+
Writing: D-
Cinematography: C-
Editing: D
Special Effects: C

Let’s talk, for just a moment, about Mariah Carey. I am not a fan. Okay, in the hands of the right director she can be a pretty good actor—but I’m talking about her music. And yes, I know, she has legions of fans; even I can acknowledge that she holds the record number of #1 singles of any solo artist in history. That doesn’t make the music good. I’m sorry, I just can’t with her music—especially that crazy-making perennial single “All I Want for Christmas Is You.” And I love Christmas!

You may be starting to see where I am going with this. Director Jake Kasdan (Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle), perhaps, thought he was being a bit cheeky when, instead of throwing “All I Want for Christmas Is You” onto the soundtrack to his new, absolutely soulless Christmas movie, Red One, he chose “Santa Claus Is Coming’ to Town”—from the same 1994 album.

The song’s arrangement is as generic and forgettable as it could possibly be. It’s what plays over the end credits, standard white text on a black background, nothing fancy or cute. And this is easily the best part of the movie.

Red One is what happens when feeling dead inside becomes a feature film. I have never seen a movie with so much magic onscreen be so lacking in actual movie magic. I went into this thinking I was fully prepared, but ready to have a good time in spite of the poor reviews and lackluster response. Sometimes bad movies are fun! If only. Instead, Red One is so busy just being busy, it dulls the senses, and becomes a snooze fest. Believe me when I say that literally. I nodded off multiple times. During the periods I managed to stay awake, one of the five other people in the theater let out a loud snore. We’re all in this together, I guess.

Except: you aren’t. Or you won’t be, if you value your time. Some of you might expect amusement from a movie where someone actually utters the line, “It’s Christmas, dickhead!” Some of you might even be genuinely amused by it. In that case, you’ve lost my respect. I’m just over here wondering why the hell anyone would cast J.K. Simmons as a Santa Claus who is not fat, but jacked. Santa literally lifts weights in this movie. In what universe does this make sense? Santa is supposed to be cuddly and soft. Stop fat shaming Santa Claus!

Okay, okay. I was reminded, as I left the theater expressing my active contempt for this movie, that I did laugh a few times. We all have our moments of weakness. There are some things in Red One that are almost fun. There’s a testy polar bear, voiced by Reinaldo Faberlle, who might have improved the film slightly had he just gotten more screen time. Kristofer Hivju chews up the scenery pretty well as Krampus. This is about as close as I can get to finding redeeming qualities.

Chris Evans plays Jack O’Malley, the unscrupulous tracker tasked with finding Santa Claus after he is abducted. He’s a douchebag on the surface who we know from the first second will eventually be revealed to have a heart of gold, and Evans might as well be sleepwalking his performance. Dwayne Johnson plays Callum Drift, head of North Pole security, and the earnest seriousness of his performance would feel out of place if not for the fact that not one of these actors seems to think they are in the same movie as any of the others. Lucy Liu is utterly wasted as “Director Zoe Harlow,” just walking around looking mildly annoyed all the time. I would be too if I had to appear in this movie. Bonnie Hunt appears as Mrs. Claus and similarly gets nothing interesting to do. Kieran Shipka, once young Sally Draper from Mad Men now grown up, plays Gryla the Christmas Witch, attempting to ham it up as a villain but sadly failing to make any real mark.

Christmas movies are a dime a dozen anymore. Less than that, even. A penny per hundred. It used to be a fairly regular thing to get a theatrical Christmas movie release that actually penetrates and becomes something special. I felt something close to that with Happiest Season, but that was largely contextual: an effectively sweet holiday film released on a streamer (Hulu) during the pandemic. These are the kinds of things Red One isn’t even aiming for. It’ll entertain a few teenagers who get a kick out of a “Christmas movie” with enough profanity to land it a PG-13 rating.

There’s something about Red One that feels deeply cynical to me. It hits obligatory story beats and the same old moral lessons, purporting to be about “the meaning of Christmas” without actually using the phrase. Characters spew platitudes and learn to be “nicer,” driving home the consumerism of the holiday by using toy store stock rooms as portals to travel around the globe, packaged as entertainment for an audience that increasingly celebrates cruelty. It’s clear that no one involved in the making of this movie thought they were making something any more special than a paycheck, and as long as those checks cash, what reason do they have to care that this was easily the worst movie I’ve seen all year?

Why so serious? Jesus Christ, eat a doughnut!

Overall: D+

VIOLENT NIGHT

Directing: B-
Acting: B
Writing: C+
Cinematography: B
Editing: B
Special Effects: B-

There’s a maybe five-minute sequence in Violent Night that is essentially an ultraviolent version of Home Alone. There’s a little Black girl instead of Macaulay Culkin, and the booby traps are more severe than those that Kevin set—although truthfully not by a wide margin; Home Alone, while still hilarious, rather downplays the severity of the injuries the traps would actually inflict. In Violent Night, instead, people actually die. Lots of them. What’s more: Violent Night is so shameless in its ripping off Home Alone in this sequence, it comes long after the movie gets literally name checked by young Trudy Lightstone. Call it “Chekov’s movie reference.”

The thing is, that five-minute sequence is by far the best part of Violent Night, giving me several good belly laughs, and I rather wish the whole movie had been centered around that. The whole story would have been much improved just being an R-rated, ultra-violent update on Home Alone, 32 years later, as thought that holiday classic were crossed with, say, Kill Bill. Now that would have been a blast.

There is a particular problem with Violent Night, you see, and that is its tonal schizophrenia. Some scenes are very violent and also very funny. Some scenes are very violent just for the sake of violence, without being funny, as though script writers Pat Casey and Josh Miller were using the sight of David Harbour in a Santa suit as a crutch—somehow, we’re meant to stay amused just because literal Santa Claus is dispatching countless nameless goons with a sledgehammer he calls “The Skullcrusher.” I mean, sure, that’s kind of funny. For a minute or two.

Violent Night works incredibly well when it has its wits about, which is unfortunately not all of the time. And, sure, even Home Alone was treacly and sentimental, ostensibly about “wholesome family values” even though in the end it wasn’t really—but it still worked because it had its narrative priorities in order, saving the violent gags for the extended, hilarious climactic sequence at the end. Violent Night, on the other hand, whips back and forth all through the movie, between bloody fights and an ultra-rich family learning the value of each other while being held hostage by a team of criminals headed by “Mr. Scrooge” (John Leguizamo).

Anyone familiar with the truly fantastic and hilarious—and thus far superior—1988 Bill Murray vehicle Scrooged will instantly be reminded of that film’s opening sequence, which turned out to be a preview for a network TV action movie with Santa Claus as its main character, called The Night the Reindeer Died. The whole point there was exaggerated ridiculousness as the result of crass holiday consumerism, and now, in 2022, we basically have that sketch gag stretched out into a feature film. I’ll give 2022 movie this much credit, at least: Violent Night is a far better title. I bet the writers of that fake trailer from Scrooged are kicking themselves now.

Ironically, David Harbour’s Santa Claus in Violent Night is a drunken mess largely because of disillusionment about what consumerist zombies modern children have become. And yet, what does Violent Night itself represent, really?

I won’t lie: I found Violent Night fun enough. That Home Alone booby trap sequence single handedly heightened my impression of the entire movie, if only to keep me from relegating it to utter mediocrity. Now I would just call it . . . relatively mediocre.

David Harbour is inspired casting as Santa Claus, notwithstanding how easy it is to argue he isn’t fat enough. At worst, he’s “stocky”—a clear choice to make him a badass former ancient warrior. Odd that we should learn that about him but not how the hell he actually became Santa. Also strange that he should be riddled with “Christmas magic” and yet so easily maimed and bloody. This is sort of like making Die Hard as an actual Christmas movie. Still not nearly as good though.

The little girl, by the way, is played winningly by Leah Brady; she’s visiting her very rich grandmother’s estate with her otherwise estranged parents (Alexis Louder and Alex Hassell). It’s pretty fun to see Beverly D’Angelo as ultra-rich-bitch Grandma Gertrude Lightstone, although even her character, like all the other adults, exist only to serve the plot purpose of vapid people barely worth protecting or saving.

I just wish Violent Night could make up its mind between earnestness and self-parody. Nearly half the movie is incongruously earnest, as though we are watching a wholesome holiday movie, even though that’s not what it is at all. None of it fits, and a movie like this really only works if it never takes itself seriously.

David Harbour never does, at least, and so the movie is at least slightly better for it. Even the subplot of little Trudy being vindicated in her belief in Santa Claus could have worked in a movie that held its conviction of utter silliness. Instead, director Tommy Wirkola seems to want Violent Night to offer something for everybody, even though that’s just never how movies like this work. In the end, it just means the audience who comes for the cartoonish violence rendered more amusing by the involvement of Santa Claus will spend every other sequence just waiting for the action to start again.

The more tedious scenes might have worked better if it had more cleverly written humor, but with a few notable exceptions, the gags in this movie are low-hanging fruit. Someone needs to try this exercise again, and do it right, or at least better. Flesh out the young-child-as-action-hero angle. Call it Scrooge Hard, or something. Home Explode? I don’t know, we can workshop it. Unfortunately there’s no better action-Christmas-movie title than Violent Night. I just wish it got more than halfway to living up to it.

While visions of skullcrusher hammers danced in their heads

Overall: B-