Christmas Film Reviews: “Elf”

You didn’t think I’d get through the entire countdown and forget about Will Ferrell‘s syrupy spaghetti, did you? I mean, holy nutcrackers, what kind of blogger do you take me for? This A-lister went on the Jimmy Fallon show last week to excitedly announce his position as upgraded St. Nicholas, which surely tickles us all. From this point forward, Yule is expected to be equal parts exciting, hilarious and mildly inappropriate, so tuck in! It’s forming to be quite a ride.

“Elf” was released back in 2003, starring said comedy titan, plus the likes of James Caan, Peter Dinklage and Zooey Deschanel. At the helm of this ship stands Jon Favreau, who might ring jingly bells from the “Iron Man” franchise. However, during its relatively short life, the flick has managed to reach and surpass competitive heights in the Christmas film category.

We start at the beginning of things. Buddy is a newborn baby, who accidentally hitches a one-way ride from the nursery to the North Pole in Santa’s slay. Facing no alternative option, Papa Elf (Bob Newhart), the head helper, raises him as one of their own with care and love, no matter how awkwardly tall Buddy keeps on growing. One day, the truth manages to escape. Buddy’s biological parent is a publishing magnate called Walter – a humbug, and a human one at that! A trip to New York City ensues, aimed to spread festive spirit through the force of family values. Buddy makes friends with younger brother Michael (Daniel Tay), kind of scores a job at Gimbles and falls head over heels for Jovie, a co-worker with a lovely voice. Although Walter is greedy, selfish and work-obsessed, perhaps Buddy will manage to get past his chilly exterior. Who said even the hardest of hearts couldn’t be melted with some Christmas joy? After all, the best way to spread cheer is sing it aloud for all to hear.

Not much of an introduction can be given to Will Ferrell. He has been in the television and film industry for over two decades, spanning between SNL glory and silver screen success. Audiences tend to recognise a comedic talent when they see one, which explains how he was spotted as early as 1997. Buddy is portrayed with such childlike naïvety and tireless positivity that no stone remains unturned on the feel trip of his family reunion. Ferrell has mastered an iconic blank expression, which is open to conveying every emotion a kid surrounded by infinite wonder would have. His performance, as usual, is tummy-turningly done, case and point being the gum chewing scene upon his NYC arrival. Pure gold.

Zooey Deschanel contributed to the visual ensemble, yet also landed a helping hand to the audio devision of this production. Her voice is the first sound that draws Buddy to a friendship. She’s the anchor, which keeps him from losing grip with optimism. The two quickly find chemistry together, even if it is not a sexual one, which throws a sprinkle of romance in “Elf”. Deschanel’s natural ability to impart sardonicism and do it with a charming smile really takes to the dark humour spectators, myself included.

I’ll keep this review a comparatively short one. After all, there’s only one more day until Christmas! You’d rather be re-pinning photographs of cakes and turkeys rather than reading analytical film articles, and you know what, I don’t blame you one bit. Christmas is a time to sit back and take a look at life’s bigger picture. Sit back and relax with a good movie!

Stay awesome!

Megs x

 

Christmas Film Reviews: “The Santa Clause”

I remember renting the video cassette for “The Santa Clause” when I was only eight years old. It had already been established as a classic by people far beyond my knowledge and age, which fuelled the flames of childish wonder sky-high. Although its success rendered two sequels, they fell behind on both revenue and satisfaction grounds. Tim Allen, who plays the jolly Saint Nicolas himself, should have called it a day after the first instalment, reserving a note of victory upon exit. Director Michael Lembeck seemed just as invested, continuing the series twelve years after the original’s release. Good effort, guys, but nothing beats film number one and here is the reason why.

Plotted around the story of Scott Calvin (Allen) – a divorced toy salesman, who is struggling to connect with only son Charlie, trouble comes when an unexpected guest falls off his roof on Christmas night. An empty-seated sleigh awaits on top of Calvin’s house, led by a full package of reindeer sniffling the crispy cold air. Unknowingly, Scott and Charlie are about to discover just how real Christmas magic is a the revelation will change their lives for good. After a colourful visit to the North Pole and Santa’s workshop, they return back home confused and bewildered by the almost unreal adventure. As Calvin begins to morph into his new position of festive guardian, he receives a beard that defies trimming and  a tummy able to devours cookies like a mighty paper shredder. Carol, Charlie’s mother, refuses to believe this process is the real spirit of Christmas and does everything within her power to fight for their son’s custody. But in the thick of family season, it’s up to Scott Calvin and his right hand elf Bernard to show her and the world otherwise.

Per nineties ritual, the soundtrack to this picture is one of its most important ingredients. Composed by Michael Convertino, it conveys the triumphant highs of jollity and the thin lows of stumbling mishaps to perfection. For a true representation of the rollercoaster tonality, listen to “Let’s Go”, which is number one on the album. If that doesn’t get you in the mood for a warmly tucked blanked in front of the television set, then all hope shall be abandoned.

The elves, most of which appear as children, but are aged at an impressive number of centuries, help restore the balance of cheer just as much. Bernard’s dry stares and flat humour are sure to get you giggling over his stone cold facial expressions and nonchalant supernatural terminology. There is nothing more priceless than a grumpy, yet loving old soul trapped in the body of a prepubescent boy.

Tim Allen himself stays true to the comedic timbre of his Scott Calvin, complaining about lactose intolerance to a sleeping child and  trying to jog the Santa weigh off on a miniature treadmill. Despite these sunny-side-up undertones, the spectator is still majorly faced with the issue of divorce and abandonment. Struggling to prove the truth, Calvin slowly loses grip on the last fragments of family he has. Allen emphasises on this in equal measures, levelling hopelessness with undying optimism. However, this wouldn’t be a Christmas film without a miraculous bounce back, so a group of special-op elves fly to the rescue.

Let’s not forget the entire sequence of events is triggered by the accidental death of Santa Clause. Not a lot of movies are brave enough to pull a freak plot point such as this banger here, but Lembeck twists it notably well. Instead of lingering on the morbidity of it all, we find ourselves urging it on. If the spirit of Christmas himself fell down from my roof, I imagine I’d be calling an ambulance instead of thinking up possibilities.

Through medical appointments, court dates, custody battles and a police arrest, “The Santa Clause” manages to emerge as festive as the next film of its kind. It shows that the power of Christmas can bring the hardest of hearts to peace and the grimmest of situations to light. It finishes strong and exhilarating, feeding the desire to call your mum and dad, or step up and even visit them. Maybe it’ll be worth sleeping in your old single bed under a Jason Sudeikis poster, you never know.

May your Christmas be merry through thick and thin, because it’s the time of year where everyone’s a little nicer and a tad more generous. Be kind and be happy, and bring the same to everyone around.

Now pour yourself a cup of eggnog.

Stay awesome!

Megs x

 

Christmas Film Reviews: “Krampus”

December is a month of cookies and milk, a celebration of jolliness, purity and family values. Halloween and its tidal wave of horror releases get dethroned and shoved into the back of your Instagram feed as soon as midnight strikes. However, this Christmas Michael Dougherty had a slightly different idea for merrymaking with own directorial creation “Krampus”. A mash-up of the two greatest holidays in every child’s life, starring comedic staple Adam Scott as central character Tom. By his side we see (fictional) wife Toni Collette and extended family David Kouchner and Allison Tolman as the most dysfunctional crew of opinionated parents.

We follow tiny Max (Emjay Anthony), whose experience of Christmas is slowly spiralling into misery with each consecutive year. His mother and father appear progressively distant, one always away and the other keeping obsessively busy. His hillbilly auntie and uncle are raising a litter of rednecks and sister Beth is tearing away from their best-friend relationship. In a fit of anger, the boy rips up his very last Santa Clause letter apart and throws it hastily into the cold wind outside. What follows is a raid of nightmarish monsters, who transform their entire neighbourhood into an icy kingdom. Gingerbread bites back, clowns crawl between the house walls and elves spread mischief into the front lawn. Through the harshest of blizzards, their families must stick together and iron out the kinks in an attempt to survive. Only Omi (Krista Stadler), Max’s grandmother, knows of the terror that is yet to come. It is the shadow of St. Nicholas everyone should fear, the demonic spirit, which punishes the naughty and feeds on the hopeless.

The idea of a Christmas horror flick is far from being a long-awaited epiphany. Some of “Krampus”‘s more notable competitors are “Gremlins” (Dante, 1984), “Rare Exports: A Christmas Tale” (Helander, 2010) and “The Nightmare Before Christmas” (Burton, 1993). They have all collected audience approval, scoring high in social platforms such as IMDB, Rotten Tomatoes and Metacritic. Dougherty, however, brings a strong dish to the table with this demonic rendition of the eponymous mythological creature. The image of Krampus itself remains hidden until the very culmination of the film, building up our hunger for a revelation. We expect a villain that wouldn’t give us serious dream joo-joo, but simultaneously need a strong kick of fright to construct that successful contrast between comedy and horror. In my opinion, this is what makes “Krampus” so intriguing – the best elements of two juxtaposing worlds, which are tossed together instead of blended into one.

All performances were carried out smoothly and excitingly. Adam Scott and Toni Collette shared a special connection on screen that left me endeared and positive. Simply said – two actors with great chemistry, complimenting each other in both humour and romance. My only impression of Allison Tolman had come from the strongly beloved “Fargo” series. Her character in the FX masterpiece is a charming, yet determined police woman. Here, Tolman opens up to a brand new assortment of distinctions – the settled wife, the courageous mother, the affectionate countryside tomboy. Appreciation for her talent grows by the day and it is well-deserved. Special mention to the entire cast of children, including Emjay Anthony, Stefania Owen, Lolo Owen, Queenie Samuel and Maverick Flack, who made the film flicker with nostalgic glances of the world. After all, as kids we truly believe in the magic of Christmas, and this company of talents transcends that innocence perfectly into the camera.

My verdict is such – “Krampus” will indefinitely remain a part of my twelve-day countdowns. It’s a film I truly enjoyed watching, a picture that left me entertained from top to bottom and most of all surprised me with great quality. Whether you need a Christmas shot of festivity, an ideal date flick or a relaxed Friday night on the couch, “Krampus” is here to provide.

Enoy by the fistfuls of popcorn!

Stay awesome!

Megs x

 

 

Christmas Film Reviews: “Bad Santa”

“Bad Santa” is that late night slot you never let the kids watch. The black comedy, which didn’t fight hard to become a staple in any (adult) Christmas lover’s film list is here. Starring a naughty Billy Bob Thornton and his helping hand Tony Cox, this disastrous flick of mischievous scheming was directed by small-time player Terry Zwigoff. Although a fair number of movies have nudged Yule under the ribs, this gem takes my first-place prize with welcoming and slightly intoxicated hands.

Robbery duo Willie and Marcus (Thornton & Cox respectively) are the jubilant scam artists to watch out for in the months of Noel. Taking guise as Santa and his trusty elf, the two travel cross country, terrorising malls with their thieving clutches. Having targeted a fictional shopping centre in Phoenix, Arizona, their gears are set in motion for the next lucrative heist. But although everything seems to be going smoothly, soon enough each faces an unusual and hilarious challenge. Willie makes acquaintance with a boy called Thurman, intending to milk the family’s available resources of cash and spacious housing. Marcus, on the other hand, is forced to deal with a snooping Gin Slagel, the mall’s own manager, who knows exactly what the two performers are headed to do. When the big night comes along and clocks strike midnight, maybe affinity and  compassion will prevail after all, catching the cold feet of misery. Perhaps Christmas has a force over the most rigid of souls and Willie can find a beating heart under that saggy red robe. Thurman will face the aftermath of transformation just as much as Willie himself.

Firstly, it has to be mentioned Billy Bob Thornton is the human personification of badassery. Scruffy beard meats high cheekbones and a pair of torpid brown eyes, whilst itself sporting equal parts white and black tint. The actor’s reputation as a Hollywood bad boy only adds to the fantasy of Willie. Drinking, swearing, vomiting and sodomising are just the first few items on a long hobby list. Despite an admirable diligence towards a life of crime, his shrivelled, raisin of a heart undergoes unimaginable changes through the course of this scam. Thornton’s reluctancy towards being productive in any shape or form comes in a frighteningly natural fashion, but so does sympathy and kindness.

Thurman becomes a mighty reason for change. He demonstrates the purest of innocence through an endless stream of questions for the pretend Santa. While maintaining the bars of both hilarity and annoyance, we can spot the daunting reason why. A house without a family, add a lethargic grandmother and social bullying, then subtract companionship and care. What do you get? A lonely, little boy. However, there’s more to Thurman than golden locks and naïvety. He peals the layers away like a ripe, human onion. Feel free to quote that sentence, no royalty charge will be taken.

Marcus is an indecisive mixture between loyal partner and selfish felon. Moving in a tandem with his shoplifting girlfriend Lois, he proves nothing will stop the plan’s flawless execution, not even Gin. This double-crossing, orange-peeling mess of an egocentric variety gets on board the fraud train as soon as profits comes into the picture.

Props have to be given Peter Baynham’s way for co-writing the script with no reservations towards intentional  or otherwise offence to common sensibilities. Willie has been created with the sole purpose of treating others like dirt and his crack-fast comebacks demonstrate this with vigour.

Thurman succeeds in creating a true relationship with the man who holds no connection with reality. Willie’s defences are slowly, but sure torn down, melted by the boy’s genuine fascination and wonder. On the crucial night of Christmas he’ll experience painful sobriety, love, betrayal, empathy and even some gun shots, but the path was never going to be easy. I would recommend a generous serving of sticky pecan buns with a touch of gingerbread crumbles on top.

Treat yourself to a naughty film this Christmas. Life’s too short for staying nice all the time, am I right? Am I… Am I right…

Yeah. Totally.

Stay awesome!

Megs x

Christmas Film Reviews Announcement

The fairy lights are up! Ginger cookies have officially become currency and eggnog is sipped by tired parents around the world in what could only be described as industrial quantities. The symptoms of Christmas have come tumbling through the boring lands of winter.

I have to admit, there is special bias reserved for my annual December months! The following thirty-one days of pure goodness happen to be my favourite time of year and not solely based on food reasons. Moreover, I’m sure that unconditional affection is shared throughout the kingdom, or at least I choose to firmly believe so in my mistletoe-covered heart. So, I have prepared a little blogging gift for the Santa fans in our frosty universe.

As a part of the celebrations, we can all admit to watching more than a few inevitable and overly cheesy films. There is nothing wrong with skipping a night at the club to enjoy some magical you-time in front of Netflix. God knows the weather outside is wretched, unless you live in the equatorial regions, which I sadly do not. London is my habitat and the winds would make a polar bear run for cover. I’m sure that can somehow be proven by smart people of science who agree with my point.

Anyway, shooting straight to the topic in question! In the twelve days leading up to that big morning of worldly joy and presents, I plan to post twelve unmissable Christmas film reviews. I’ll make sure to put them up nice and early so that you can plan the eve for toffee apple tea and mince pies. Rely on me, world, for I shall make the final countdown as screamingly festive as humanly possible, because that is the only way to celebrate X-to-the-mas.

Starting Sunday the 13th of December, you can expect the very first commentary on the classic Murray tale of “Scrooged”! Hope you’ll love and cherish it!

Ta-ta, lovely elves of Christmas spirits!

I’ll enjoy myself a bottle of mulled wine. Yes, I said “myself”, and no, I care not for judgemental remarks. As a grown elf, I can make grown elf decisions.

Stay awesome!

Megs x

Announcement of the Space Variety | Space Wordsmith

Hello, creatures of various planetary arrangements.

I know what you’re thinking and no… I wouldn’t say that in real life as far as I’m aware. For some reason I find that my poetic inclinations take a rather sharp turn when I write things on a blog page.

Word magic.

Anyway, as there was a bit of response to my “Entry Number Three” post, I thought I might mention my other blog – Space Wordsmith, which is the larger scale of that piece.

It’s a recent project, a diary of a woman who is on a mission in deep space. Although it was meant as fiction, I find that most of it stems from my real day-to-day life, which is then translated into space talk. I thought it’d be a cool, little read to have, so… Feel free to check it out if you enjoyed “Entry Number Three”.

That’s all for now! Stay awesome and I love you all.

Meggie x

My Tomboy Ways

“…I want women to adorn themselves with proper clothing, modestly and discreetly, not with braided hair and gold or pearls or costly garments, but rather by means of good works, as is proper for women making a claim to godliness. A woman must quietly receive instruction with entire submissiveness.” (Timothy, 2:9-15)

First of all Timothy, nobody cares what your precise desires in women are. You’ve been dead for a while now and necrophilia was so circa 2007. Secondly, the subject of today’s article has close to nothing relating to Timothy’s opinions on clothing. I just thought I might throw a Bible quote in here to make my statements sound slightly more authentic… You’re welcome.

The point of all this blabber is that I was sat in a small pub called “The Goose” on Monday evening. Across from me was a good friend, a friend of the boy variety, but not a boyfriend per se. Now, I’d say I’m quite a laid back person (although we both know if one has to say they’re pretty chilled, they’re convincing themselves more than others). But it was one peculiar little sentence that made me sit awake in bed that night.

‘You’re one of the guys really…’, Timmy said absent-mindedly.

Really… Really? Don’t tell me this like it’s not news, buster, because I’d like to know if I’ve suddenly changed metaphorical genders here. As I looked down at my crotch, thinking ‘What the hell, dude?’, I noticed the proof of his point that I was literally covered in. In my notable attire I had assembled a men’s grey hoodie, plain denim jeans and black Vans trainers. I was Mark Zuckerberg-ing it.

Suddenly, in a moment I could only describe as the tipping off my verge into the sea of epiphanies, I realised his case was solid. I had long hair and I eye liner, and boobs somewhere under there, but for the most part I really did look like one of the bros. I was brozoned. Fist bumped on entrance. Congratulations.

For the most part of my life I have dressed to be comfortable, not impressive. This means that although I have an extensive collection of graphic t-shirts, my wardrobe is lacking dresses and high heels beyond repair. Haunted by that verbal note I sat in lecture today, browsing through online stores for women’s fashion, trying to figure out where it all went wrong and spending my humble pay cheque on stuff I’ll probably never wear.

I have been a single lady for quite a few months now and as a person going through the symptoms of a quarter-life crisis I can say that the first aspect of my life I reflected on was relationships. Was I unattractive? Did looking like the part of a friend push me subconsciously into the friend zone? What if I never meet a guy that likes me back, because I have more pairs of Converse than lipsticks?

Thinking more and more about the issue, I came to the conclusion I was a very comfortable young woman who didn’t need a short skirt to look positively majestic. I don’t need a v-neck showing off the old cleavage to feel wanted. I’m awesome, because I’m awesome and that’s that, take this comfy jelly or leave it. I didn’t send any of my online purchases back, because I’m still secretly excited to try them on in front of the mirror, but still…

My point is never ever forget, kids – If the world pressures you to be more pink or more blue, more this or more that, more male or more female… Turn your butt to them and shake it. Because it’s your butt and it’s the best butt and you should dress your butt however you want your butt dressed.* It’ll look amazing any case scenario.

Stay amazing,

Meggie

*(and any other part of your fabulous body besides the butt area).