Star Wars IX

And here we are with a new Star Wars movie, and real one, not one of those garbage “A Star Wars Story” piles. Right on. The Last Jedi got me jazzed, ditching the overly-abundant fan service JJ Abrams favored for The Force Awakens to put forth an interesting story with some exciting potential for our characters. Will Kylo Ren be given a redemption arc? Will Rey give in to the Dark Side’s temptations? Will Poe and Finn admit their love for one another? Will anyone remember Phasma was even in The Last Jedi (my favorite, by the way)? The questions were plentiful, the opportunity great.

Which makes it all the more pathetic that we got something that didn’t even bother thinking about those questions.

The Rise of Skywalker continues – for the most part, anyway – where things left off in The Last Jedi, with Luke deceased, the Rebelli–I’m sorry, the Resistance on its last legs, Leia increasingly out of commission, and the First Order under the command of the still-volatile Kylo Ren. I guess this is as good a time as any to mention there will be spoilers, considering we get facts that could very well be considered spoilers in the first few minutes of the film. Y’all got that? Okay. So, as it turns out, in his infinite wisdom, possibly pissy that Rian Johnson ditched a bunch of lame plot points The Force Awakens had set up, Abrams, back in the director’s chair, opted to go in some fucking sideways directions, beginning with the reveal that Emperor Palpatine, last seen falling to his death in Return of the Jedi, is actually alive and well. Or, at least, a clone of him is. Cool beans, I guess. Not only is Palpatine still kicking, but in the decades between Jedi and now he’s been secretly constructing a massive fleet of starships that he’s willing to give to the First Order to crush the remainder of the Resistance and establish the Second Empire. ‘Kay. As our heroes chase down Kylo, looking for the secrets he’s found, they discover the actual truth surrounding Rey’s parentage: Unlike what we tried to establish in the previous film, it turns out Rey is the granddaughter of Palpatine hisself, her parents on the run for, I dunno, disagreeing with the idea of the Empire and looking to stash their daughter far away from her granddad’s influence. Holy. Shit.

So these two plot points alone are bad enough, more than enough to make me leave unhappy with this newest franchise entry. But then they had to go and make the thing lazily, sloppily, and almost as laden with fan service as The Force Awakens. Fair enough, I guess I’m gonna be detesting this thing, then, that’s fine.

Yup. The editing is so haphazard this time out that the first act of the film – shit, the first fifteen or twenty minutes, for that matter – feel more condensed than a frozen bag of Campbell’s chicken stock. So many things are compressed into such a short amount of time that one could probably make a decent interstitial film out of the contents, something akin to Empire without the grand implications. Had it just been the opening bit, it’s possible the film could have recovered, but aside from a handful of quieter, more naturally-paced scenes, the whole film suffers from heavy compression, the density of plot points and scenes so overwhelming that I’m pretty sure those people a few rows over who went to the bathroom missed at least three or four important happenings over the course of their urinations (okay, I just assumed they peed, they could have done other things). It’s like the filmmakers saw Endgame, thought the runtime to be a bit overbearing, and cut the film within an inch of its life in order to maximize every second of screen time. Unfortunately, there’s the minor side effect of the film feeling rushed, incoherent, and more interested in getting things over with (and stuffing in as many winking references as possible) in as little time as they could.

Then there’s the problem of Abrams’ seemingly unquenchable thirst for fan service. The Force Awakens rubbed me the wrong way so much not because it was a retread of A New Hope, but because they stuffed so many references to previous films, the expanded universe, and anything else the fandom would recognize that the end product couldn’t possibly stand on its own merits. The same can almost be said of this outing, right down to that fucking shot of the ewoks near the end, whereupon I almost yelled aloud, people in earshot be damned.

Finally, there’s the decisions I just plain disagree with. We’ve apparently ditched the idea that Rey’s parents were nobodies just so that we could maintain some unnecessary continuity with the preceding series. Screw the idea that the Force could possibly be felt by some random chick abandoned on some desert planet in the middle of nowhere, she’d have to be something more special than that, connected in some way to a family we’ve already been introduced to. I was scared they’d make her a long-lost Skywalker or Organa or something, but, no, that inane reveal, the one that fucking gave the film its title (WHAT!?!?!?!?), was saved for a symbolic line at the end. Hey, guys, the fact you made it symbolic doesn’t detract from the line’s eye-rollingly dumb and needless implications. We had this wonderful setup regarding Force users and rebels-to-be not having to be from the “special” bloodlines already introduced, and I guess we’re just up and chucking that idea. Palpatine’s return is even worse, as it rings so unnecessary, so hollow, and so lazy that I have to wonder who actually came up with it. Sure, we could have had some expanded conflict between Rey and Kylo, these forces of Force-sensitivity, but that wouldn’t be big enough, I s’pose. That wouldn’t provide the proper amount of plain ol’ satisfaction for the Old Guard of “fans”. It’s just so lazy, though, and emblematic of the fact that so many of said Old Guard can’t relinquish anything from the past, they’ve gotta keep the overtly familiar going, progress, like the people around me, be damned. There’s a point where Chewbacca supposedly dies, and that’s all that matters: It’s not about a potential ambush from Kylo and his Knights of Ren (hey, they actually showed up for a minute!), it’s not about Rey’s use of Force lightning (something, as far as I know, we haven’t seen in the movies outside of powerfully evil folks), it’s about the potential death of a long-standing supporting character we all know and love. Way to make the plot contingent on the events, guys. Killing me. Oh, and there’s the whole situation surrounding Finn and Rose. Nothing at all is made of any proclamations of love or anything from last time out, and it seems as though Abrams had nothing for them to do at all here, ’cause Rose is completely sidelined to the point that I can’t remember her doing anything, much less anything of value, and Finn is relegated to following Rey around and calling after her every few minutes. I mean, they do try to set him up with a potential love interest (not gonna lie, seeing them connect so quickly with their only similarities being a hatred for the First Order/Second Empire (whichever you prefer) and, to put it as frank and callous as possible, a darker skin tone than the other characters. Don’t worry, you racist savages who had a massive problem with “the white woman being programmed to love the big, black dick” (I really wish I made that sentiment up, but this is the fucking world we apparently live in these days), he’s free to go after someone of his own kind. Gag me. As it turns out, the secret Finn tries to tell Rey throughout the film is that he’s Force-sensitive, but I guess too much was going on for that to be communicated, apart from him occasionally “feeling” certain things during the climactic battle. Fun. He’s a full-fledged character now, JJ, great job, just forget about any character-building already done. Oh, and speaking of the final battle, it feels much smaller than its purported to be, the field of view limited to only a few bits of space, and it’s loaded dumb, hokey shit, like the cavalry charge and the appearance of the Resistance fleet.  And don’t even get me started on the Hux stuff!

Well, at least the visuals are mostly fine, I guess.

This movie was a mistake on nearly every level. Instead of blazing its own trail, it rests on the laurels of its predecessors and refuses to let us all forget about it. Everything that could have gone well is left by the wayside in favor of inanity and fan service. What a sad way to allegedly end the main series (I doubt that’s truly the case, but you never know with Disney, amiright?), woundedly whimpering as it panders to the bland middle ground of cinema. Star Wars started out as a relatively cheap endeavor that wound up succeeding thanks to the efforts of its cast and crew. It ends with a perplexingly shoddy film that looks like the people involved only barely wanted to go through with its production. Unlike those upset with The Last Jedi, I don’t wanna see this thing remade, I just wanna forget about it. It’s the only way that the proper closure will be able to take hold, the closure that comes with absolute oblivion. Who knew the Empire would win so thoroughly after all?

I’m not sure I’ve effectively run through my points here, but the underlying opinion should be clear. I just don’t know how to word things sufficiently through such a thick veil of disappointment and confusion. Sorry, kids, it’s all rant today. Maybe I’ll be able to return to the subject later on with the clarity of a repeat watch, but it’s gonna be while. Stay safe, kids.

Seasonal Depressions, Part 9 – Snowmance

And so it comes to this. I was actually looking forward to sitting through more of these holiday nightmares, with titles such as Christmas Cupcakes and Mistletoe and Menorahs malingering on the list, but life got in the way. Still, it’s only fitting that the finale to this season of pain would be the one that almost had me throwing a fit whilst watching it. Yeah, kids, this one was my breaking point. Let’s talk about Snowmance.

The title came up when searching other garbage-looking X-Mas flicks, and many an eye was rolled at the pun. Things got even better when we looked at the synopsis, which seemed to imply that the protagonist was likely gonna be banging her snowman. A terrible romance version of Jack Frost (either original will be fine, be it the Keaton or the slasher)? Sign me up!

Well, hang on, kiddos, it’s not gonna be that easy.

The story begins with said protagonist, Sarah, as she’s building a snowman effigy of her crush. This crush happens upon her doing so and makes fun of her. Heartbroken, she’s compelled by a neighbor kid to build a new snowman, imbuing this one with all of the qualities of her ideal mate. It’s clear this neighbor kid has a thing for Sarah, but that’s not gonna come into play just yet. As we see, year after year, Sarah and Nick build the snowman, Sarah’s idea of the perfect man shifting with her age. Now in her 30s (I think…?), Sarah’s just ended another relationship, which means it’s another snowman with Nick. Nowadays, Sarah wants to be swept off her feet, she wants an adventure in the great, wide somewhere. As it happens, apparently magic is in the air, as this year’s snowman, named Cole in the usual fashion (maybe Coal, but I’m gonna give some benefit of the doubt here), appears to come to life to woo Sarah, to give her all that she’s been asking for. Nick is suspicious, though, not just because Cole seems too good to be true, having strangely intimate knowledge of Sarah’s desires, but also because he’s been carrying a prodigious candle for Sarah for decades. What’s a girl to do in such a situation, especially with X-Mas coming up?

Let’s get the usual stuff out of the way first. The acting is standard, though some (like Sarah’s father) are just not suited for the material, and the characters and dialogue are all obvious, broad, and quite often pretty stupid. I appreciated Sarah’s assistant, a hunter with a good amount of elk jerky on hand, if for no other reason than she made me giggle a couple times (the rest of her Ron Swanson schtick came off as trying too hard, but at least there was a consistent effort there). This thing was a made-for-TV movie showing on Ion (yeah, I only barely knew that was a channel myself), so its production values are nailed to the floor, and the spots for the commercial breaks aren’t exactly smoothly integrated into the presentation. Suffice it to say: The film is cheap and shows it is so at every opportunity.

Now let’s get into the real bullshit. So our animate snowman, Cole, is made out to be the perfect man, at least for Sarah, even in spite of his massive quirks, like his shady backstory and his mad love of the cold – not to mention his apparent connection to other snowmen (I admit, I laughed when Nick “murdered” Cole’s snow buddy, Cole just reacted so damn melodramatically). He’s there to provide the adventure she’s always wanted, beside the romantic partnership aspect to it all. Indeed, Sarah’s life is shown to be stiflingly inertial, with her father and house acting as a firm anchor and her job actively keeping her from traveling or expanding the scope of her writing. More importantly to the narrative, her best friend, Nick, is also passively keeping her around, ’cause he can’t express his feelings for her. Enter Cole. With Cole’s help, Sarah’s prospects pick up, all of her immediate dreams come true, with plenty of room for long-term advancement, and the magazine she writes for even softens to her request for a travel column. Everything’s coming up Sarah. Right on, right?

Fuck that, apparently! See, what really matters is how Nick feels. See, we’re told Nick and Sarah haven’t always been merely platonic friends, but rather they gave dating a try back in high school, years into their relationship. The endeavor failed pretty quickly, though, so a sane person like me (everything’s relative) would figure that the issue’s been decided, Sarah just doesn’t share the feelings Nick has for her, he’s gotta get over it. But this is a holiday movie, sanity has nothing to do with anything, much less the narrative at hand. As such, it is drilled into our skulls that Nick is a great guy, that he’s in love with Sarah, and because of that, she should abandon everything she’s ever dreamed of and settle down with Nick. It’s obvious to everyone, save, importantly enough, Sarah. Sarah sees Nick for what he really is (at least for the most part), a good, reliable friend. What kind of friend would let his romantic feelings get in the way of seeing his supposed best friend find everything she’s looked for over the years? The kind that isn’t a friend, but some asshole who feels he’s been “friend-zoned” for years, held forcibly celibate by his target female while she pursues men who aren’t him.

Sounds kinda harsh, but that’s how Nick acts. He pulls the “Aw, shucks, I love her, but I can’t tell her, woe is me” schtick for the first half, but then goes full-on Ducky, actively undermining Sara’s relationship with Cole like some jealous prat and then emotionally manipulating her when she’s on the verge of leaving him. He believes she’s being “tricked” into falling in love with Cole, that her only legitimate happiness would be by his side and not Cole’s. Why? ‘Cause he loves her! Things are exacerbated by everyone else in her life taking Nick’s side. See, like I said, his affections for Sarah have been obvious to absolutely everybody in town who isn’t Sarah, and they inexplicably take his side in this clearly-necessary triangle. Sarah’s father expounds at length at how nice a guy Nick is, bolstering the latter’s emotionally manipulative efforts. Even when things are looking good for Sarah being able to live her best life, the people around her pull her toward Nick, her father shoving his manipulative X-Mas gift into her hand several times before she can leave with Cole. I can’t really blame Sarah for choosing Nick in the end, ’cause her entire social network has foisted him upon her at every turn. Why fight against the apparent will of the cosmos? Fuck it, give up your dreams and your opportunities and settle, Sarah. Sure, the writers saw fit to give Nick a spiel as to why it’s not “settling”, but this just amounts to “I’m in love with you, so you have to love me back!” What a contemptible shitheel, this prick that makes the aforementioned Ducky look almost tame and supportive by comparison. The passive aggression, the manipulation, the entitlement, it all makes Nick into the worst character I have seen in any of these movies. Worse, the film actively pushes Nick as being in the right! I have never felt this much rage, this much frustration, whilst watching an empty holiday movie before. I have no idea how they thought this would play out, how anyone could get anything out of Nick aside from a future thread on r/niceguys, but there’s plenty of shame to go around here for their efforts.

To all the Sarahs out there: Don’t give in to all the not-so-saintly Nicks in your lives. Don’t force a romance that isn’t there. Live your lives as you so choose. If your erstwhile friends aren’t pulling for your happiness, drop ’em: they’re not your friends, they’re asssholes. Sure, there might be some legitimate reason to spurn your beau (in this case, Cole does show some red flags, but none are actually brought up beyond a single portion of a line of dialogue, and for all we know the magical snowman-turning-human thing ain’t as bad as it sounds (how would we know how magic shit works!?)), but if the best they can do is “Please return my love, I know we tried, but it’ll be different this time because I love you, and you should love me too, because I love you”, do as the DARE folks wanted you to do and just say no. Move on. Be better than them. They’re not worth your time.

Anyway, fuck this movie and its toxic themes. It’s shit like this that reminds me why holiday movies almost inherently suck: Wish fulfillment has its limits, and no one making these films know what those limits are, so bad decisions are made. Every now and again, a decent-enough flick will make it through the haze, but rarely is anything of value gained by anyone. I have no idea if I’m gonna revisit the genre again next year, continue to put myself through this sort of pain on purpose, but my hand might be forced if there’s a fourth Christmas Prince…

God grant me the booze needed to recover from this nightmare!

Happy holidays, kids! I sincerely wish the best of tidings to all of yinz, no matter what you celebrate, even if it’s just that another day has dawned. Go with love.

Seasonal Depressions, Part 8 – Last Christmas

So, I had no idea what I was getting into with Last Christmas. I vaguely remember seeing some of the YouTube critics I follow covering it, but I figured it to be some throw-away holiday flick like This Christmas (maybe this new one is a prequel?) or Four Christmases or some shit like that. Considering I’ve been subjecting myself to even worse examples of this tripe, what could this one bring, right? Oh, that poor, sweet summer child that was me from a couple weeks ago…

Right off the bat, certain things catch my eye, as the neon-styled opening titles relate the fact that Emma Thompson’s script for this thing was inspired by the same-titled song from George Michael and Andrew Ridgeley, the one that’s nigh-on inescapable around this time of year. (At least it’s not “Wonderful Christmas Time”, amiright?) ‘Kay. We’re then introduced to Katarina (oops, I mean Kate), our slightly self-centered and vaguely bad-at-adulting protagonist, as she works at a X-Mas shop. She’s finished recovering from a sickness that required a heart transplant, and since then she’s become relatively estranged from her Yugoslavian family and can’t quite get her shit fully together. Luckily for her, she meets Tom, a wildly optimistic and mildly quirky, always bidding her to look up at something charming above and finding his way into her good graces. Just as things are looking up for her, though, Tom is nowhere to be found, but his influence has already taken root in her, helping her mend things with her family and do good things in the world around her. Then shit goes stupidly sideways, but those spoilers are gonna haveta wait a moment.

As treacly and ludicrous as it is, I was shocked to see Thompson was responsible for this script. Her Oscar was well-deserved for Sense and Sensibility, but this feels like something tossed together for a quick holiday buck. Emilia Clarke tries to do something with an inherently inane character, but she’s once again the victim of mishandled ideas (see as Me Before You and the way Game of Thrones wound up dealing with her character’s arc). The rest of the acting is fine, though Thompson pushes it with her forced Slavic accent, and Michelle Yeoh is absolutely wasted as Kate’s boss. The film is structurally fine, but it suffers from the downright twee nature of its plot and a distinct lack of identity. Paul Feig is playing it extremely safe here, but I’m just glad the characters weren’t just screaming at me like they usually are in his films.  Still, this thing is only moderately better than his previous holiday outing, Unaccompanied Minors, and you should never be only moderately better than that horrendousness.

But we all know the biggest problem lies in the story itself, so here are some massive spoilers, kids: So, remember how Kate had some serious condition a year ago? That led to a heart transplant? Yeah, so, as it turns out, Tom was the donor. He was killed in an accident, and they transplanted his heart into Kate. His appearance in the film is strictly ghostly, apparently, guiding Kate toward a lighter future. So, quite literally, last X-Mas Tom gave Kate his heart. Now, that seems to be where the literal lyrical illustration breaks down, ’cause the heart is never given away nor technically given to a third special party, but that one line is squeezed for all it’s worth. And do I even need to explain why that shit is some of the dumbest screenwriting around!? It might have been one thing if everything was metaphorical or something, but it’s all taken quite literally. I had no idea how to react at first, all I could do was silently plead with my immediate surroundings, not wholly unlike how I did at the end of Spielberg’s War of the Worlds (he ran into the field of fire and death and LIVED!?!?!?).

This is some major garbage here, and I feel sorry for pretty much everyone involved, especially Emilia Clarke. I’m normally an Emma Thompson supporter, but this was just horrific. Skip it, kids, unless the Hallmark or Ion films are proving too formulaic for you.

Miss Cleo’s Picks: After Class

Oh, you kids had better believe that Miss Cleo’s list lives on! Hell, this time out, the list shows some expansive properties, as today’s subject was sent my way only a couple weeks ago. I mean, it only came out around then as well, so it wasn’t as though I could just will it into my mind, ya dig? Anyway, let’s chat a bit about After Class.

The film centers on Justin Long’s Josh, an adjunct professor trying to find his footing in the world. He’s currently shacking up with an Italian woman he met abroad who doesn’t exactly embrace him as the partner he sees her to be (and the sex is apparently decently rough, too). His grandmother is currently in the hospital, clinging to life. His divorced parents aren’t exactly a joint source of comfort or strength, his step-family is even less accommodating, and his siblings don’t hold him in the highest of regards. Not enough of the world shitting on our boy? Worry not: In class, he encourages a student to reveal the details of her recent sexual encounter, which triggers another student, a sexual assault victim, who proceeds to understandably make a thing out of the situation. Without any supportive mooring from his inner circle and with his collegiate life collapsing in on him, Josh has gotta figure out how to keep his nose above the surface.

I’m not gonna lie, my initial thoughts on the film weren’t all that positive. The handling of the college issue seemed particularly broad and superficial, appearing to just mock the idea of adults expressing their displeasure with inappropriate and unprofessional behavior. As I thought about it, things got less clear-cut, Justin Long suffering just as much at the hands of the filmmakers as the triggered students. Indeed, as Long’s suffering deepened and widened, it was clear the film was kinda clumsy with regard to the classroom politics, but it was hell-bent on fucking with our boy. Long’s journey into the shit forces him to confront his own shortcomings, the mistakes he’s made, and the ramifications of his inability to just shut the fuck up and listen for a change. This is a coming-of-age story that just so happens to have been delayed beyond the immediate post-adolescence of the protagonist.

Though Long is just kinda okay in his role, he’s buoyed by Richard Schiff and Fran Drescher as his parents, as well as by Kate Berlant and Michael Godere as his sister and brother, respectively. I’m not sure there’s much in the way of applicable lessons to be learned here, apart from the importance of listening to those around you, family or otherwise, but it’s still an interesting exercise in introspection. I found myself wondering how I would respond to Long’s myriad obstacles, unable to fully discern my path. Not sure how to feel about that. Love that, though.

Leave it to Miss Cleo to show something seemingly somewhat trifling and ensure a measure of unexpectedly cryptic emotionality. I can’t fully recommend After Class (or Safe Spaces, as it also goes by in some areas, a victim of its own ham-fisted handling of social politics), but I shan’t warn yinz away from it, either. If it sounds in any way interesting, give it a go; regardless, stay safe and live to be the best you.

How’s that for inspirational, eh? Eh? Ah, I tried…

Seasonal Depressions, Part 7 – Ghosting: The Spirit of Christmas

Dating’s hard, even during made-for-TV holiday movies. Sometimes you click, sometimes you don’t, and sometimes you think you do, but you wind up being ignored by the other party. No matter how charismatic you thought yourself to be. Even if you felt a real connection. … Gimme a sec here, sorry…

*Ahem* Anyway, like I was saying, the younger factions of today’s society have a term for this act: ghosting. I know I can’t think of a better concept for a holiday film, can you?

So, the setup for Ghosting: The Spirit of Christmas (anyone else think the title sorta endorses ghosting as somehow being emblematic of the X-Mas season?) finds Jess heading out on a blind date, hoping things will go well but preparing for the opposite outcome. As it turns out, her date, Ben, ain’t half bad, and things wind up going swimmingly for the two. Unfortunately, on the way home from the date, Jess ignores all of the televised PSAs and reads her texts while driving, leading to her perishing in a collision. Smooth. Poor Ben is left feeling like he’s been – you guessed it! – ghosted. Little does he know how literal that thought is gonna wind up being, ’cause Jess actually comes back to our plane of existence as a ghost. Yup, we’re going there, kids. As it turns out, both her best friend, Kara, and her new beau can see and interact with her, so the nascent relationship that got derailed by the collision can restart in earnest, whilst Kara may or may not be hitting it off with Ben’s sister. Love is in the air this holiday season.

I don’t even know where to begin with this. Let’s start with the mechanics of the haunting, I guess. While only a select few can see Jess, it’s not entirely as though everyone else is unaware of her presence, evidenced by how the actors obviously go to great pains to not even look at her while she’s near. They repeat that she can’t really interact with her physical surroundings, but that makes me wonder why the sofa and pillows shift under her when she sits, things along those lines. Even better, no one around our central group seems to bat much of an eye when they see, say, Ben sitting on the side of a two-person blanket and apparently having quite the engaging conversation with himself. Maybe I’m just overly judgmental about the people surrounding me, but I’d be wondering if I’m safe around the guy, not gonna lie. Meanwhile, Kara and Ben (not to mention anyone else who learns about the situation) take the news that Jess came back from the dead, to a degree, an act proving some form of an afterlife, very easily and extremely calmly, and the concept is only dealt with shallowly at best. Why bother putting in effort, though?

Aside from the considerations the filmmakers were too lazy to fully think through (yeah, I know, it’s a sappy rom-com, why even bother, right?), the film just feels exceedingly breezy and empty. Despite involving X-Mas (barely), there’s no real holiday message or anything, they just wanted to be able to market the film around now for maximum watch time. All of the relationships progress fairly smoothly, if riddled with the lumps inherent in the genre, and only the slimmest possible conflicts are allowed to exist. This is as light and meaningless a film can be without just being a set of soundscape videos comprising still shots of rainy forests and brooks. I love the concept of a haunting movie like this being thrust into the context of some dating garbage, ’cause it delightfully weakens any semblance of power the conceit could carry in the service of some vague notion of love or something. Why does this exist? Why involve X-Mas at all? Why couldn’t we just get a straightforward story about a woman who yearns for a committed relationship but somehow can’t commit herself? Or maybe just a cute little flick about Kara and her burgeoning relationship with Ben’s sister? There’s just too many questions!

Seasonal Depressions, Part 6 – Black Christmas (2019)

Hey, wanna know when you’re officially creatively bankrupt? Howzabout when you remake a film that’s already been poorly remade? How does that sit with ya, mate?

So, back in the ’70s, a little flick called Black Christmas came out. Though often credited to Halloween, Black Christmas is a more proper candidate for being the first true slasher flick. (It’s important to note, though, that Halloween would essentially establish the main tropes of the genre and kickstart the wave of slashers that would quickly inundate the ’80s.) It’s not a bad movie, really, not quite my cup o’ tea, but it’s a solid enough slasher. About thirty years later, the film would find itself remade, given a shiny new aesthetic and a hot, young cast. Unfortunately, this film would run into some controversy, having to bow to studio (read: Weinstein) interference and including some enticing footage in the trailer that was never meant to make the final cut. Neither film is a masterpiece by any stretch, but they each have their own qualities.

So, yeah, why the hell not remake the damn thing again?

Just as before, the film tells the tale of a cadre of sorority sisters mostly alone in their house during a winter break, only to find themselves being cut down by a mysterious killer. We’ve got a couple twists here, though, as our main protagonist is carrying around some trauma from a previous frat house rape incident, and there’s the distinctive air of woke-ness throughout the proceedings as toxic masculinity and rape culture find themselves the target of some much-needed criticism.

If I were being charitable, the film itself is a massive satirical skewering of the stifling rape culture that pervades American campuses these days. Stick with me here: The lead is led to stand up to her rapist and his cohorts; in return, these frat boys take their revenge on these uppity women and cut them down for not submitting to the obviously superior male power. The offending frat is the university’s founder’s house, symbolic of the patriarchal stranglehold placed upon the nation by even her own high-minded fathers. The nigh-cult-like devotion of the frat brothers to their cause and the (*SPOILERS*) literally supernatural nature of their male-centric power stands in for the desperate coordination with which fragile men try to cling to their collective pride and institutions.

That’s if I were being charitable. I have no doubt in my mind that the filmmakers, at least at some point, had as their goal the communication of such messages. Or, on the other hand, maybe they’re hacks who tried to put some “woke” substance into their garbage slasher flick in hopes of winning some brownie points somewhere down the line. No, this is absolute trash. Once again, a slasher is bent against its will to conform to a PG-13 rating, making all of the deaths strangely bloodless, both in terms of makeup effects and the editing, which does its damnedest to eschew any direct, messy contact between flesh and weapon. The acting is mostly par at best, with quite a few examples of either phoning things in or comically overdoing it (sorry, Cary Elwes, but we both know you can do better than this), the plot is often moved forward because of stupid decisions, and there’s nothing of note to the cinematography or the music. Like most Blumhouse films, there are some cheap jump scares, but quite a few are half-assed half-jumps, merely a sharp sonic sting away from a full jump. And the climax is so poorly-staged, poorly-edited, and overly convenient that it comes off as one of the worst such scenes I’ve seen in a long while (at least among those that are actually trying to do or say something with their climaxes).

And then there’s the so-called “feminist” stuff. To begin with, there is a decent amount of toxic feminist behavior, with supposed friends pushing their clearly traumatized sisters into obvious trigger-laden situations and allegations of weakness when others won’t “fight” properly. That’s a fucking yikes from me, dawg. Then there’s the patriarchy “symbolism”. It almost worked, came kinda close, but the ham-fisted delivery, the ludicrous supernatural elements, the awful writing (near the end, there’s a lascivious read of the line “Your body, your choice” that turned my stomach with its shittiness), and the ultimate pay-off all undermine any possibility of taking the “satire” seriously. It’s shocking to me that the film’s director and writers are women, ’cause everything feels like some out-of-touch dudes trying to be hip with the kids and such. I’ll admit that this perspective is coming from a particularly male bias, regardless of side beliefs held, but it sure as hell feels like things are just being handled poorly.

Maybe the damn franchise is cursed or something, I dunno, but as the remakes keep coming, they’re getting increasingly worse. Everyone should be ashamed of themselves here for trivializing the subjects raised in the script, and, yeah, that’s what it is when the material is handled so terribly. There was an outside shot of this new take working, but the execution leaves so much to be desired that failure was the only endgame to hope for. Skip it, kids, there’s better out there: If nothing else, the original ’70s version is the best movie bearing its title, even though its flaws are apparent from even the first scene. Still better than this one, dammit.

Goodness Grace’s: Thoroughly Modern Millie

I’ve heard of a band called 1,023 Megabytes; unfortunately they haven’t gotten any gigs yet.

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I feel I need to get out of the way early that I’m not the biggest fan of Roaring Twenties media. Unless it’s a particularly good gangster story or something, I’m usually just put off for some reason. It’s one of the (many) reasons why I chafed in high school due to having to read The Great Gatsby (*shudder*). Nonetheless, I pressed on here. I await the cheers.

Anyway, before I went into things here, I’d never heard of Thoroughly Modern Millie. Indeed, I thought I had years ago, in a book about Marvel Comics’ earlier years, but that turned out to be a series called Millie the Model. Close enough, shut up. Just at seeing the opening number, in all its flapper-glorifying presence, I knew I was gonna be in for a long sit. I made it to the reprise of “Not for the Life of Me” before I had to stop: Props for fitting a foreign-language song into an otherwise English show, complete with subtitles projected onto the background, but it was a bit much. I decided to slow down and look into the show a bit more, finding out it was based on a film from the ’60s. Right on. Bringing it up in conversation, though, my mother made quite the deal about the film being one of the worst she’d ever seen. I mean it, she was vociferous in her condemnation, and it was across the board. Now, she and I haven’t always seen eye-to-eye on such judgment matters, especially in her disdain for Django Unchained (I still don’t get it, so don’t bother asking why), so I kinda just shrugged off her anger and went into the film regardless.

Kids, listen to your mothers.

The film tells the interconnected stories of the eponymous Millie and new-to-the-Big-City Dorothy as they navigate the murky waters of New York society. Enthralled with the flapper mentality of female independence and whatnot, Millie is determined to net herself a nice stenographer position so that she can net herself a nice, wealthy husband. Dorothy, on the other hand, has slightly less clear goals, mostly wanting to undertake some poverty tourism. I mean, I may not be rich, but I can see hitting a wall of ennui and wanting to see if Jacob Riis’s photos tell the proper story, I guess. As these two differently-naive women go about their respective tasks, shenanigans ensue. Oh, and there’s this whole deal about a human trafficking ring operating out of the girls’ boarding house/hotel (I can never tell the difference, call me a total suburbanite). Fun!

It didn’t take long for me to confirm that my mother was, indeed, correct about this film. Though a success at the box office, it was made as the tide was turning against the movie musical, when turkeys like Dr. Dolittle and Hello Dolly! began to kill the genre before Paint Your Wagon and its contemporaries essentially finished the job. Unlike last gasps like Oliver!, these films couldn’t keep the magic alive, opting instead for lackluster songs, performances, and production designs. Here, you gotta sit through over five minutes (!) of overture before even the titles get going, then another two or three before anything resembling a plot starts. It’d be one thing if the music were, y’know, good, but it’s mostly indistinct and heavily inspired by the setting’s time period (understandable), so I just couldn’t be arsed.

Then the rest of the movie happened. Though a fantastic talent, Julie Andrews doesn’t really work as Millie, her voice too sweet and steady to really pull of the overconfident naivete the role demands, especially when compared to the stage version (more on that in a bit). Similarly, Mary Tyler Moore makes a strange Dorothy, trying way too hard to pull of the saccharine sweetness of the character and unable to make any of it believable, either at the performance level or that of reality. The film’s pacing is absolutely atrocious, quickly breezing through most of the plot and character development so that we can get to the musical numbers, where we sit for way too long each time. The comedy is more dated than the context, and the choice to employ silent film-style title cards to convey, I dunno, the inner thoughts of certain characters or something is a baffling decision that doesn’t add much of anything to the narrative. None of the writing is all that great, especially the handling of the human trafficking, which is strangely dark for the otherwise happy-go-lucky tone. On the same page, the glossy tone doesn’t fit with the darker themes, and the juxtaposition feels more like an accident than a feature. Had they been able to deal with the issue better, perhaps in some sort of darkly comedic form, the various plot strands could have fit better together, rather than just being physically close in proximity and sorta/kinda involved with each other. I dunno, maybe some kind of statement about something could have been made. Nope, here’s “Tapioca”, one of the worst things to ever happen to musical cinema. Once again, *shudder*.

So, yeah, not the best of second impressions, either. Still, I went back into the stage version to see how things had changed in adaptation.

The basic structure remains, but things feel a bit different from the outset. Millie arrives in the Big City looking to strike it rich and whatnot, embracing the “thoroughly modern” lifestyle becoming the vogue. More on that sentiment momentarily. She’s naive in the sense that she thinks it’ll be easy, setting up some laughs when she runs into the brick wall of real life, but there’s a forcefulness about her, a headstrong quality sorta missing from the film version. Once some time has passed, she runs into newer-comer Dorothy, even more naive than Millie was, sweeter and more incredibly interested in her own brand of poverty tourism, which Millie is more than happy to indulge if it means being able to siphon some of Dorothy’s cash her way. The theme of materialism over love is more explicit here, as Millie rejects the latter in favor of landing a wealthy husband, while Dorothy seems to wanna land amongst the stars somehow. As is its wont, life doesn’t conform to desires and expectations, and Millie finds herself falling for a not-so-well-to-do businessman, can you imagine? Oh, and that whole human trafficking thing is there, too.

Sutton Foster is a much better fit for Millie, in my opinion, as she brings a certain misguided force to the role that Andrews just doesn’t get across. Her Millie thinks she knows what she wants and pursues it, even if she doesn’t quite know what she’s doing, and her voice fits this mindset better, rounder than Andrews’s and more in line with the “modern” sensibilities she’s into. The pacing is steadier here, and the songs feel less like obtrusive extended pit stops and more like organic pieces of the narrative. The human trafficking angle is dealt with pretty much as poorly as it is on film (with more questionable racial bits concerning the hotel’s owner, about which the less said the better), but I think this is a consequence of the weakness of the source material: you can only do so much with what you’re given, especially when it involves a massive subplot. At least there’s more of a human quality to the traffickers’ foot soldiers (so to speak), so there’s something, I guess.

But it’s the morality that feels kinda fuzzy to me, both in the film and on stage. Millie goes about things the way she does because she thinks it’s the “modern” thing to do, finding women’s apparent newfound independence pretty cool. Thing is, she treats it like one does the newest trend in shoes, as though it’s merely fashion. Now, part of this feeds into the plot, which shows Millie that true love isn’t something that can be dictated by the whims of cultural elite. On the other hand, it kinda sends a weird message about changing attitudes toward women’s rights and such over time, like women taking advantage of shifting power dynamics is more about being cool and popular than actually grabbing what has been denied them so long. Maybe I’m misreading things a bit, maybe I’m missing things from later on in the show, but it just feels off to me.

All of that said, the show is solid enough, definitely a better narrative as a whole than its source film. Personally, I couldn’t get fully into it because of the setting and subject matter (sorry, this Twenties stuff sends me to a negative place to begin with, can’t explain why), and some of the messaging feels either muddled (hi, human trafficking, you crazy subplot you!) or misguided, but I can see why people would enjoy the story. I don’t see myself humming any of the songs later on, but “Speed Test” is fun enough. I dunno, I can’t muster up much enthusiasm here. Sorry. If nothing else, remember my mother’s words: “Screw that movie!” Love ya, Mom.

Seasonal Depressions, Part 5 – A Christmas Princess

So, hey, remember when I mentioned I took down A Christmas Prince: The Royal Baby with my buddy and his wife? (Awesome people, by the way, deserve a lot of credit for dealing with my dumb ass as much as they have over the years, lemme tell ya!) Well, I thought it would be fun/funny (whichever came first) to cap off the night of A Christmas Prince with what I thought was the only sensible chaser: A Christmas Princess.

I mean, how could I go wrong with that title matching, right? I know I didn’t know what was awaiting us behind that title, but it had to go well with both A Christmas Prince 3 and plenty of booze, right? I mean, who am I expecting to answer these questions? You? Yinz? No offense, but yinz don’t even know. So lemme break it down for yinz. (Disclaimer: I don’t nor have I ever lived in or even near Pittsburgh or its surrounding environs. I have appropriated “yinz” to my liking. I apologize to those who have been offended by my thoughtless actions. I will, however, continue to do so, ’cause I just don’t care enough. Sorrynotsorry. #DidIMissaHashtagThere?)

The plot, as understandable as it is for you to think otherwise, is not about a regular dude meeting up with some sort of princess by mere chance. Why would you think that? Just because the title takes advantage of that very trope, essentially name-dropping the distaff film I just described, one you may know and love (?) as A Christmas Prince? Shit, son/daughter (I wanna make “Shit, daughter!” a thing, so help me out and use it, eh?), you must be slow.

Indeed, the plot follows basically the same beats as A Christmas Prince: A lowly caterer runs into a handsome, wealthy prince – as you do – and they fall in love as we progress across the runtime. It’s a blatant knock-off of the Christmas Prince and Prince & Me formula that it feels almost lazy to even mention the resemblance. In fact, if you’ve seen A Christmas Prince, just imagine that the eponymous royal is decidedly more handsome (according to to my unofficial, one-woman polling, actually registered on the Sexy-Guy-o-Meter) and charming than Prince Richard of Aldovia, but leave just about everything else the same. Well, the same and off to the side a bit.

See, what drew me to this film initially wasn’t just the title, but the combination of the title and director Fred Olen Ray For the uninitiated, Ray is one of those old hands (at least by today’s standards) who’s somehow made it out of the ’80s relatively intact. By that I don’t mean he’s a highly respected and successful filmmaker in the vein of Scorsese or even Lucas or Coppola (hey, they’re still putting out content!), but that he’s found a way to keep his chosen profession and keep chugging along at it. Following some actioners and B-flicks and whatnot like Attack of the 60 Foot Centerfold and Demented Death Farm Massacre, Ray found his way into softcore porn. Being the guy I am, I can’t fault him for this, especially considering how much enjoyment I’ve gotten from his films of this ilk. Alongside the skin flicks, he’s done some straight-to-video schlock, whatever will pay the bills, but lately he’s been dabbling in the made-for-TV X-Mas market, a rather lucrative niche to say the least. I mean, one of my upcoming posts will be covering a film wherein a woman bangs her snowman, so you can imagine how much demand there exists for films in this vein.  Think David DeCouteau, just with less apparent bitterness and ever-so-slightly more fucks being given.

And Ray doesn’t fully disappoint here. His trademark cheapness and speed are on full display, with a nearly vacant city, a business I can’t fathom surviving in the real world, somehow duller visuals than the usual sort of fare this film is piggybacking off of, and some heinously lazy acting. Wait, did I only label the acting as lazy? Allow me to add to that list the writing and directing as well. There we go, that oughta fill the list out. Everything plays exactly as you’d expect it to, nothing comes close to standing out as anything approximating “good”, and the overly-convenient plotting ensures that the runtime at least courses along at a quick-enough pace that things, in spite of their inherent mediocrity, somehow never overstay their welcome.  It’s pretty much exactly what it says on the tin: a creatively-bankrupt retread of an established success with none of that film’s charms or strengths.  This is blatant, even for made-for-TV X-Mas fare.

If you’re extremely hard-up for X-Mas-related content, then feel free to give A Christmas Princess a go. Also, if you’re a fan of schlock directors like I am, you could do worse in your endeavors than this film. Otherwise, don’t bother, it ain’t worth your time.

Shit, was this review lazy enough to coincide with this film’s lack of shit-giving? Hm. I can only hope. Lemme know, will yinz?

The Mandela Effect

Let’s flash back to childhood, shall we? Remember your favorite books? For me, there was The Little Mouse, the Red Ripe Strawberry, and the Big Hungry Bear, a book I’ve since gifted to every friend who’s had kids, ’cause it’s goddamn amazing; there was, naturally, the whole oeuvre from Dr. Seuss (though some, like Yertle the Turtle, somehow evaded my household more than others); and there was a series about a family of bears that dealt with all sorts of familial issues, all to teach us kids usually-wholesome lessons about life. Back in those heady days of reading, I thought the bears’ surname was Berenstein, pronouncing it “BEAR-en-steen” as I read. So did my parents. When I was older, I noticed it was actually Berenstain, the last syllable pronounced as it’s spelled. ‘Kay. I chalked this up to being a stupid kid, which I most certainly was. Anyone who thinks they weren’t either had overly-“supportive” parents growing up or have terribly warped memories. Funny thing, I realized my spelling mistake when I was, say, seven years old, somewhere around there. I figure I’d initially made said mistake due to how strange the last name sounded compared to others I’d encountered. Simple.

As time has gone by, others have discovered themselves making the same reading comprehension mistake, but they’ve come to some slightly different conclusions than I did. See, they’re not capable of being dumbass kids making faulty assumptions, their memories are always flawless, and no one’s got goofy last names. As such, there must be some other explanation, and the only one that apparently makes any sense is that our dimension/timeline is colliding with another, and changes like the spelling of a bear family’s surname are the result of reality stabilizing. Or something along those lines. Dubbed the Mandela Effect – one of the initial changes noticed, I guess, was that Nelson Mandela hadn’t, as many for whatever reason “remembered”, died in prison in the early ’90s – this phenomenon has gained some creepy traction online, with people noticing all sorts of things they don’t remember, mostly minor pop culture stuff easily screwed up by elementary-school brains. It’s still terrible people believe that they’re so infallible that colliding realities are the only “logical” option left, but at least there’s some potential for psychological exploration.

Enter The Mandela Effect.

The basic plotline of this film is exactly what you’d expect from a movie with that title: A couple loses their little girl to an accidental death at the beach (I assume she drowned). Whilst grieving, the father notices things around him that don’t line up with the flashbulb memories he has of his late daughter. As he digs further, he learns of the eponymous phenomenon and other out-there theories regarding the nature of reality, including the one that posits we are living in some sort of computer simulation. Wanting desperately to be reunited with his child, he takes a chance on essentially hacking the simulation. Insert what you might expect to happen.

Now, on its surface, that sounds like typical speculative nonsense, but there’s something deeper going on here. If I may: Though built around the premise of the Mandela Effect, the film isn’t really about that at all. See, once the daughter dies, the couple faces their shared grief in their own manners: the father, as already said, goes into some deep denial, trying his damnedest to make sense of the tragedy at hand and, if at all possible, reverse it; his wife, on the other hand, fully accepts what has happened and all of the terrible baggage that goes with it, ultimately looking to move on in a world without her daughter. In part of what sends the father off, they fight about whether or not to get rid of the daughter’s personal belongings, the mother not desirous of a mausoleum down the hall from her bedroom, the father unwilling to part with even the most ephemerous reminder of his child. It’s during his grieving amongst her possessions he notices the Berenstain Bears thing and goes off on his search for meaning and change. What we watch as the film progresses is the dissolution of a marriage due to grief, loss, and a lack of communication aimed at reconciling the partners’ divergent reactions thereto. Taken in this context, the film takes on an occasionally haunting feel to it, the pain and madness more than palpable throughout. Now, the focus on the Mandela Effect and simulacrum stuff often detracts from the emotional potential, but the core remains, elevating the film above similar, more science fiction/fantasy-centered fare.

The relatively low budget is well-used here, with some occasionally solid visual effects work and admirable performances pretty much all around, including the kid who plays the ill-fated child (I actually snickered a few times from her banter with her fictional parents). The cinematography has an appropriately grayed-out and slightly grungy feel, emblematic of the emotional state of the central couple. Some bits are certainly very contrived, especially when hacking reality gets underway (who knew it could be so easy?), but the aforementioned core keeps things from faltering into laughability.

I fully expected this to be a quick watch, a mediocre piece of pop-psych nonsense that I would just mock while viewing, but it turned out to have some actual heft and purpose. Right on, I’m always up for something that actually tries to tell a story beyond its surface. Give this one a shot if it sounds in any way appetizing, I think you’ll find something worthwhile here. Good times.

Seasonal Depressions, Part 4 – A Christmas Prince: The Trilogy

As was – and is – my wont, I was watching a Jenny Nicholson video around a year ago. She was talking about a pair of Netflix X-Mas movies and how they were weirder than they appeared. Much like the rest of the media Ms. Nicholson expounds on that I haven’t seen or are otherwise mostly uninterested in, I didn’t think about these films any further than the bounds of the video. Little did I realize that several months later I would be faced with these very two films. And their trinity-fulfilling sequel.

My buddy’s wife, the one I watched Gilmore Girls: A Year in the Life with way back when, caught word of my self-torture with these holiday flicks, and her eyes lit up. I would be the excuse she needed to play them, her husband now out-voted on the matter. I figured it’d be fine, we’d all hang out, have some drinks, make fun of these things, and the pain would be dulled ever-so-slightly. So, under these auspices, she informs me of the third film’s imminent debut, which meant we’d have to play some catch-up and watch the first two. Joy to the world.

A Christmas Prince, not totally unlike some other, relatively non-holiday-themed fare like The Prince & Me, tells the story of Amber, an aspiring journalist looking to make her mark on her profession and life. Tasked with covering the impending coronation of a new king in far-off Aldovia (apparently it’s just eastern Romania, fitting considering the filming took place there, likely next door to Steven Seagal’s next straight-to-VOD feature, due to the low costs), Amber winds up being mistaken for the young princess’s American tutor (I think they explain why she needs such a tutor, but I can’t for the life of me remember). Whilst bonding with the princess, Amber also runs into and, I guess, falls in love with the titular prince. The usual rom-com shenanigans ensue, complete with a holiday setting. Oh, and there’s some succession crisis, wherein the prince is shown to be adopted and thus no longer in line for the throne, heaven forefend, a fact brought to our attention by the prince’s cousin, Simon, who’s in league with Prince Richard’s ex-girlfriend. Fun all around.

Why, yes, this plot has been extremely well-trod, good of you to notice. I’d say there’s nothing new or interesting about this particular go-around, but that wouldn’t be completely accurate. For one thing, the second half of the film, the one dedicated to figuring out a way for the prince, his burgeoning girlfriend, and his sister to foil Simon’s ambitions (’cause he’s an asshat and a villain, he knew what he was stepping into, don’t question it!), basically becomes something of a National Treasure knock-off, with the characters chasing down the late king’s will or something (actually, now that I think about it, I think it was some sort of provisional law or legal addendum, maybe?) that will somehow foist Simon from the throne and place “rightful” Richard in his stead. It’s potentially an interesting turn for the plot to take, especially considering how cookie-cutter things have been to this point, but it’s needlessly convoluted – even without being all that complicated, if that makes any sense – and winds up looking like a strange deus ex machina quest, even if it’s technically not. Worse, it seems strangely illogical that the king would have had no way to properly legitimize Richard and not keep it a secret, right?

Beyond that, there’s the painfully obvious fact that our central couple has absolutely no chemistry whatsoever, mostly owing to their distinct lack of character. Whilst Amber could at least be described as optimistic, hopeful, ambitious, and mildly sunny, and she shows all of these traits throughout the film; whereas we’re told Prince Richard has spent some time being something of a playboy prince, jetting off to who-knows-where with who-knows-whom, but nothing of that shows through on screen. Indeed, Ben Lamb gives us very little to go off of, as he seems either unwilling or unable to forge a facial expression beside stern/solemn Chris Evans, and he shows the same reluctance to emote physically. It’s as though this American woman, who’s got at least the minimum amount of personality, falls for a friggin’ mannequin, and we’re supposed to go all gaga for it. Don’t make me laugh! (I know the script didn’t!)

While Lamb doesn’t do much to fit the leading man part, Theo Devaney looks to be having a hammy ball as the slimy Simon, and he’s easily the most entertaining part of the film. Also of note is the presence of the Borg Queen herself, Alice Krige, as the dowager queen, who holds herself well enough in the appropriate cloud of haught. Everyone else is just as middling as the plot, the cinematography, the stock music (get a load of that “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” knock-off during the opening credits!), and the standard lighting and editing. Nothing stands out, and I don’t think anything is meant to.

And somehow, somehow, this thing got a direct sequel.

See, (*spoilers*), at the very end of the first film, after maybe a week or so of getting to know one another, Richard proposes to Amber, ’cause that’s what you do in these flicks, marry off the characters or, at least, get them engaged to do so. Fast forward a year, apparently, ’cause things can only happen in Aldovia if it’s around X-Mas, and preparations are underway for the nuptials. In a clear parallel to the treatment of Meghan Markle, Amber is pushed around by the powers-that-be in the palace and winds up feeling her sense of identity slip away as the veneer of royalty and tradition is shellacked upon her. Meanwhile, Simon’s come back, the beneficiary of a neutered form of villain drift, where he’s been humbled and thus no longer someone to treat as threat to anybody or anything. It’s possibly a good thing he’s here, ’cause so’s Amber’s single friend from New York. Oh, and there’s an economic crisis afoot in the kingdom, one that’s threatening a general strike and possible austerity measures. Will Simon’s degree in economics come in handy? I mean, well, uh…

Yeah, that whole economic situation isn’t treated very strongly by the script, which favors the wedding stuff pretty harshly. It’s far more important that a queen-to-be feels fully comfortable and expressive during her state wedding ceremony than for her subjects (man, do I hate that term, especially here, with these lunatics!) to be, y’know, economically secure at the more basic levels. Of course. And the cause and solution are both very simple, so no need to question anything along the lines of systems or the like: No need for thought, kids, this is a holiday movie! (You can’t see it, but I’m sarcastically giving a large grin and a thumbs up. Trust me.)

The same lack of chemistry and character (and life, for that matter) between the central couple carries over from the first film, with Lamb continuing to show no sign of even the ability to emote, and Simon continues to be one of the precious few bright spots thanks to his campiness. Amber’s overly-Brooklyn-y (or is it the Bronx? Queens?) father is also a relative delight, if just because he also has a personality, as broad as it is, and Krige remains nice and regal. While nothing in the technical realm is any different, much less better, than before, my questions about how Aldovia functions when we’re not looking (and even when we are) are beginning to pile up.

And that pile only grows larger with the third film in the series.

Like clockwork, a major life event pops up for Amber and Richard, as the former is set to give birth right around – wait for it! – X-Mas. Insert the usual shenanigans and such that usually accompany the run-up to a baby. Meanwhile, Simon and Melissa have grown into a full-fledged item since last time, much to the inexplicable chagrin of Amber. Things aren’t totally sunny for this burgeoning couple, though, as an old flame of Simon’s shows up in the form of an attache to a visiting royal family, sparking a love triangle. Oh, and there’s another major governmental crisis in the offing, as the aforementioned royals are in town to renew a treaty for another century, but the scroll goes missing. So, whilst everyone tries to keep the visitors busy, our core characters engage in a search for the missing treaty.

So, right off the bat, filmmakers, that isn’t how treaties work. First, the way it’s described, it’s not even a treaty, per se, but rather a truce (splitting hairs, I s’pose, but, hey, what else am I doing here?). Second, there’s no reason why the conditions of a centuries-old truce should dissolve simply because it hasn’t been re-ratified by the respective governments, especially as the contexts have change so dramatically that a continuance of their war would make no international political sense, much less any binding legal sense. Third, just because a ceremonial scroll containing the previous incarnations of the “treaty” (which isn’t a method by which these documents are handled, mind you) goes missing, this doesn’t mean you can’t simply draft a new one. I think this all continues the thematic thread of the “prison of traditions” that’s run through the series thus far, but the fact that the script has to resort to such massive contrivances just to keep a plot thread going is an ill omen, indeed.

Much like the solution to the whole whodunit turns out to be. See, Simon’s acquaintance is painted as the brightest red herring of all time, even dragging the formerly duplicitous Simon into the shadows, but I guess that would have been too obvious (that’s for damn sure, as our semi-drunken catcalls professed whenever they lingered on her shifty eyes (yup, just like the dog from The Simpsons)), ’cause they decided to go with the person just hanging in the background, impossible to suspect. Way to fail at the most basic of mystery tropes, fellas.

Everything is just as stolid and dull as ever, with the three limp plot threads barely able to hold together for the relatively short runtime. None of the actors are particularly good, with even Simon taking a slight hit, and never once did I ever care about whether or not the baby was gonna be born safely, or if the two countries would go to war, and I’ll be damned if I gave anything of a shit if Simon and Melissa were about to break up or something. The insular nature of both the royal family and the whole of Aldovia are on blatant display here, and the thinness of the proceedings wouldn’t allow for much in the way of world-building anyway. The technicals are all par or just sub-, and I’m not surprised.

What I see in this trilogy (that threatens to be the X-Mas counterpart to Saw and Paranormal Activity for Hallowe’en) is the same laziness on display in so many other similar holiday flicks. All you need is a breeding pair to fall in love, some flimsy excuse for flimsy drama, and the X-Mas setting. So little effort is apparent that I wonder if my friends and I could do better, and that should never be a legitimate thought in our heads, given our penchant for lackluster visual storytelling (hey, I can admit our school video projects were garbage, can these filmmakers?). All these things are good for is booze-addled merry-making during December. …Come to think of it, that’s not all bad, is it? Hopefully they embrace this quality and just go all out in the future, ’cause at least something wild would be interesting. These, on the other hand, are just boring and mediocre on their own.