What is it about the holidays that makes us watch awful Christmas movies? And yet, despite doing so against your own will, you’ll likely be doing so alone just to avoid the family.
If you’re like me and have a family that loves to rent the same terrible Christmas movies (A Bad Moms Christmas), especially your brother who just can’t get enough of making you sit through holiday in-law horror stories and seasonal rom-coms, then I feel your holly, jolly pain. Maybe this year will be different, but it won’t.
We trust you’ll watch close to a dozen holiday films over the break, if you’re avoiding family drama as much as we are, considering Netflix has more than 30 new Christmas titles, including Tim Allen’s latest mistake, El Camino Christmas. While the movies herein range from the terrible likes of Tim Allen’s earliest mistakes (his movies, not the real-life drug trafficking) to the absolutely unnecessary religious comedies (that’s a thing?) like Kirk Cameron’s 2014 abortion, we have a little bit of all the movies you’ll watch just to avoid your family.
And if they decide to join you, it’s the perfect time for a holiday Hot Toddy and a long drunken nap.
Kirk Cameron's religious comedy, as if there were such an intentional thing, is one of those 'it's so bad you have to watch' kind of holiday movies, only we're pretty sure anything that involves Kirk Cameron, hip hop dancing, possible homophobia and a 0-percent Rotten Tomatoes review isn't up for a rerun in our house.
Yet there you are, hoping for a Growing Pains moment with the late great Alan Thicke and Boner.
Despite having a pretty likable cast, the movie plays like something out of Bridget Jones's diary hopped up on candy canes and packing way too much fudge into a romantic comedy. It was also before Andrew Lincoln has slaughtered thousands of bloody carcusses, Kiera Knightley thought she was a pirate captain and Liam Neeson was taken. So yeah, our feelings have changed over time, except we've always kind of hated Hugh Grant.
It's never the holidays with The Holiday, that movie my brother won't quit fucking renting no matter how many other movies there are to choose from. At this point, I'm convinced the movie store clerk is slipping copies into everyone's bag, since nobody believes Jack Black could be in a functioning relationship.
It's been nearly 25 years of this nonsense, and yet we still find ourselves watching it. Is it because Tim Allen was in his prime at the time? Is it because we're hopelessly in love with jolly old St. Nick? Or is it possible we think it's based on a true story. Either way, none of these reasons explain why we're up every year watching it at 2 in the morning on Christmas morning. At least it's not The Santa Clause 3: Escape Clause.
Like one Christmas wasn't enough. Albeit the cast (Vince Vaughn, Jon Favreau, Jon Voight, Reese Witherspoon) is one of the better holiday groupings, we can't get over the fact that, at no point, did Jon Voight bite someone's arm.
One terrible Vince Vaughn Christmas movie begets another, just as one piece of peppermint bark begets the whole fucking tree of minty white chocolate.
If one drunken, belligerent Santa movie didn't do it, well, then thank goodness they did a sequel 13 years later when not-so-little Thurman Merman was even more big and marshmallowy, only now we don't get John Ritter.
Any guy who can make a living lifting weights, become governor of California despite his difficulty pronouncing its name and make a movie like Kindergarten Cop a success is aces in our book.
We even get deceased actors like Jim Belushi, Phil Hartman and Sinbad (you're laughing after that one, aren't you?) but goddamit that little kid is annoying. Not-so-fun fact: That kid went on to be the little boy in Star Wars: Phantom Menace, right before he lost his marbles and went schizophrenic.
I mean, we like Adam Scott, but why did this happen? And why do we keep watching it?
Truth be told, I didn't have enough tolerance for boredom and bad acting to sit through this, a new holiday non-classic coined as "garbage you'll watch anyway." Not to be confused with The Christmas Shoe or My Christmas Prince, the Lifetime movie, both of which are also royal gar-bage. Sorry, Rob Lowe, we still love ya.