I’ve encountered quite a few films like this over the lifespan of this blog. These family-friendly, secular-reason-for-the-season Christmas origin stories like Klaus and The Man Who Invented Christmas that, rather than just retell the Biblical genesis (heh) of the holiday, take a more contemporary approach that acknowledges that it’s not just the religious that celebrate this time of year.
And coming from these particular creatives, I’d lying if I said I was entirely hopeful that this could hold up alongside those other two classic efforts. This is directed and co-written by Gil Kenan, who is not only co-writer on the upcoming Ghostbusters: Afterlife, but who we last checked in on with the totally unnecessary remake of Poltergeist, and also co-written by Ol Parker of Best Exotic Marigold Hotel and Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again fame. If nothing else, this should be make for some interesting write-up fodder.
Well, let’s not be so cynical about such things, especially when dealing with a film this idealistic. The story being told is that of a young boy who would become known as Father Christmas, here depicted by Henry Lawfull as Nikolas, the son of a Finnish woodcutter, who goes on a journey with his talking mouse Miika (Stephen Merchant) and his newfound reindeer Blitzen to find a secret elf village called Elfhelm. He is basically shown as the purest of pure souls, fascinated by magic and doing good while seemingly everyone around him views the world through entirely cynical eyes.
Nikolas’ father is so intent on the practicality of the world that he succumbs to ‘ends justify the means’ brutality, his aunt Carlotta (Kristen Wiig in an unexpected attempt at a British accent) is so cold that she gives Aunts Sponge and Spider a run for their money, and Mother Vodol (Sally Hawkins) is the ruler of Elfheim who is so on-the-nose in her nationalistic ‘Elves First’ perspective that she’s basically the embodiment of the Brexit mindset. Where Klaus ultimately subverted cynical attitudes to highlight how even a selfish act can carry a gem of selflessness in it, this film is a lot more forthright in its stance of helping others and having nothing but eyerolls for people who would see such kindness as simple childishness.
And honestly, there’s some truth in that idea. I’m a hardline idealist myself, and I’m not unfamiliar with being described as naïve and other such condescending labels, and having a child’s innocence is kind of required to still have that perspective in the modern world. That’s one of the few good things I can say about having grown up with a developmental disorder, as I never really lost touch with that sense of childlike wonder and being able to see the magic in everyday life. I mean, yeah, having a heart that open means there’s even more chances for me to be let down by the coldness of the real world, but if the choice is between being open to everyone or being shut off from everyone… well, at least for me, that’s an easy choice to make.
The film’s plot, while managing to be both very high-concept in its construction of Santa’s many signifiers (the reindeer, the elves, the sack full of toys, etc.) and rather threadbare as far as things actually happening on-screen, benefits from having that same child’s perspective on what’s going on. While everyone around him keeps insisting that magic isn’t real and that hope just isn’t realistic, he carries on regardless. He journeys forth, he unlocks the magic, and when confronted by the isolationist rhetoric that Elfheim has latched onto, he restores the ability to trust others and care for them. He also helps restore what the act of gift-giving at Christmas time is supposed to be about, where the act is more important than the gift itself.
As far as the more recent crop of Yuletide origin films, this honestly doesn’t hold up as well as its competition. The plot is rather slight, the characters are inconsistent (I wanted more of the literal Manic Pixie Dream Girl that loves explosives, dammit!), and the framing device of Maggie Smith telling a bedtime story to three children could’ve been better handled. But as the latest serving of holiday cheer and warmth, it accomplishes what it sets out to do and I freely admit that it appealed to my Peter Pan Syndrome-ass personality. It’s like a cup of hot chocolate: It’s nothing that substantial, but it’s comforting, especially at this time of year.
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