CHRISTMAS LAND
After inheriting a Christmas tree farm, a woman's plans to sell it change when she falls in love.
Jules works in marketing, or branding, or marketing and branding, maybe. Who cares? She has a dickbag boyfriend who doesn't pay any attention to her, and she's apparently fine with that. She's good at her job and she lives making the big bucks in New York City, but her grandmother, Marcia Brady, just died and left her disturbing Christmas-themed theme park to Jules in her will, and that's a real drag.
So she flies out to "Christmas Land" some little shithole in the middle of nowhere populated by a group of smug bumpkins who just assume this stranger from the big city is going to abandon everything she knows to move out there permanently and fix up their creepy little holiday cult village, because I guess she owes her dead grandma's vengeful spirit some sort of blood debt.
Jules decides to sell the place and get the fuck out while she can, but some random little girl guilt trips her into staying long enough to renovate "Christmas Land", both to give the folks living in the nearby town one more happy holiday, and to make the place look more enticing to a potential buyer. And she butts heads with a local lawyer who holds the Christmas season in his heart all year long and duh, duh, duh...
She leaves her stereotype boyfriend and falls in love with the lawyer and falls in love with Christmas again and decides to abandon her empty life in New York to stay at "Christmas Land", because that's the way this shit works. There's a third act crisis with an evil real estate developer, and the lawyer thinks she's a piece of shit for a while due to a stupid misunderstanding, but it all works out in the end, and that's a big fucking surprise, right? I didn't have to watch this movie. I could have just guessed and typed up all of the above text without wasting my fucking time watching this dumb fucking movie.
Christmas Land is just another stupid fucking Christmas movie that happens for a while, then it stops happening, because it's fulfilled its requirement of plugging two hours in its network's schedule. The actors know they're starting in an empty styrofoam cup of a movie, and they don't give two shits about anything they're doing. Nobody involved with this skid mark put in any effort.
Richard Karn is in this movie. That's how fucking bland it is. Fucking Richard Karn sleepwalks through five minutes of this wretched movie, because that's the best the soulless producers had to offer.
I'm not in the mood for this shit. I spent ten hours wrapping gifts yesterday. I spent three hours baking. Cooking, cleaning, more wrapping, more baking. My back aches. My legs are cramping. My hands are swollen and raw. I have a blinding migraine. I wanted to watch It's A Wonderful Life, but I didn't have time because I had to spend the last two free hours I had left before passing out on the floor at three in the morning watching fucking Christmas Land and hating everything, because I made myself a promise. I got two hours of sleep and I'm typing this through slitted, bloodshot eyes with another day of exhausting toil ahead of me, but I'm going to finish this madness because I made a promise.
25 of these damned movies in 25 days. And I stuck with it, despite a whole truckload of bullshit threatening to derail all of it time and time again throughout this month. I had to make this work. All I wanted was for this last movie to be at least a tolerable experience. Just mediocre. I could've handled that.
But Christmas Land couldn't settle for mediocre. This movie has nothing working in its favor. It's a rotting corpse in a shallow grave, only the corpse is wearing a soiled Santa Claus suit, and the shallow grave is actually a fireplace, and it's really Santa Claus, who fell down the chimney, breaking his neck and landing in a roaring fire, and now he's roasting in some suburban family's living room, and in the morning the smell of cooked ham will fill the air, and the family will search for the inviting smell only to discover its source, and then they will feast on the fat man's succulent flesh, and his strength will pass into them, and Christmas will be canceled forever.
I'm finished, now, and I'm never doing this again. Merry Christmas.
VERDICT: HAIL SATAN
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