Once the stockings have been ransacked, the dinner table has been decimated, and all of the guests have been ushered out the door, therell be some of us wholl opt to ward off the onset of a turkey coma by firing up a seasonal flick. And while the likes of Miracle of 34th Street, Its a Wonderful Life, A Christmas Story, and Scrooged will undoubtedly spring to mind, why not consider one of these should-be holiday classics?
Who hasnt bemoaned being sent on a December 24 grocery run by their better half? Well, battling tooth and nail for the last litre of eggnog pales in comparison to the Christmas Eve travails of John McClane (Bruce Willis), who must contend with a skyscraper stocked with heavily-armed, hostage-taking terrorists in order to reunite and reconcile with his estranged wife.
Yes, theres some sly, subversive anti-consumerism commentary in Joe Dantes horror-comedy about an adorable critter thats bought as a Christmas present but ends up spawning a horde of destructive creatures. But more importantly, theres the sight of that horde of destructive creature laying waste to snowy, small-town America while going on the holiday bender to end all holiday benders.
Continuing in that all-Id vein: Tis the season to bite your tongue and put your best foot forward. Consequently, you cant deny the cathartic appeal of watching Billy Bob Thorntons debauched department store Santa forego any semblance of impulse control while drinking, screwing, and thieving his way to some approximation of an epiphany.
Another unsettling vision of St. Nick makes a cameo in Jean-Pierre Jeunet and Marc Caros phantasmagoric tale of a scientist bent on stealing tykes dreams. However, the remainder of the film pulses with the unbridled sense of wonder and warm sentiment that are the lifeblood of the holiday season. By the end credits, viewers are left believing that just about anything is possible.
And speaking of miracles: While this crusty critic would rather swim through a pool filled with broken glass ornaments than sit through the ultimate romantic comedy again, hell concede that many of you will find your fourteenth viewing of Richard Curtis tangle of cloying contrivances as cozy as a Colin Firth sweater. If thats the case: Knock yourselves out. Ill keep my bah, humbugs to myself until 2013.
