It’s that time once again: Christmas is upon us, and with it comes the usual horde of holiday flavored spectacle, prepackaged and ready to reap the profits of ancillary rights. From amongst this throng of Christmas greed emerges “Bad Santa,” a film so blindly targeted at the scrooges of the season that it stumbles continuously, appearing genuinely surly rather than sarcastic funny.
The crutch of a story focuses on Willie T. Stokes (pathetically played by Billy Bob Thornton), a man so down and out it’s an understatement to call him down and out. A shadow of a safecracker, Willie spends his year drunk, literally, waiting until the holiday season to don his Santa’s costume and join his partner Marcus (Tony Cox), when they will once again rob another shopping mall. Their scheme is simple—employed as Santa’s helper and his elf, the two work for the entire season, scouting the mall until Christmas Eve when they crack the safe, steal some miscellaneous items and hightail it for another state.
For a film that revokes its entire premise in its last 10 minutes, it’s still a horribly constructed hypocrisy, better suited for the trashcan than theater projectors. The inherent flaw in “Bad Santa” is the obvious one; in an attempt to give the audience a sympathetic yet immoral character, the film utilizes a narrative that stars a pathetic hole of a man. We hate him more than we feel for his plight. Willie is a drunkard, yet terribly unfunny. He is also insensitive and unnecessarily cruel, especially towards children. Instead of amassing a block of holiday hate and focusing it into a pointedly humorous commentary on the season, the film lazily traipses around its own pitfalls, resulting in a haphazardly strung together reel of film stock.
It is rumored that the studio originally wanted Bill Murray for the role of Willie, possibly to revisit his role from “Scrooged” (1988). Wisely, Murray passed, but he left the audience in the most incapable hands of Thornton, an actor so lacking in skill his performance actually distracts from the otherwise blatantly shoddy script. Granted, there isn’t much to do with his character, but rather than guiding it towards some sort of amusing end, he vilifies Willie.
Watching Thornton act, one gets the feeling he really isn’t acting at all, but rather responding to his character’s situations as he would himself. This feeling is furthered by the uncanny frequency of shots—a total of five—that showcase the tattoo on his left shoulder he’s kept from his former marriage to actress Angelina Jolie. She’s had hers removed, but he seems intent on broadcasting the fact that his remains. Again, the thought that comes to mind is pathetic.
Among the multitude of other faults in “Bad Santa” are major continuity errors and low production values. Normally, continuity in Hollywood films is seamless; they’re designed to make the viewing process as passive as possible: absorb, don’t interact. Here, cuts and bruises and facial hair appear and disappear regularly. Worsened by the abrasively low production values – music pilfered from other films and shoddy lighting – this antagonizes Thornton’s atrocious portrayal of Willie . One would kill for something of actual worth to watch.
The one decent aspect of the movie is Tony Cox. Not only is his performance sharp and hilarious, he manages to give his character some depth, a serious accomplishment for the nature of the role. His line delivery is spot on, and though (again) probably little genuine acting went into it, Marcus comes off as believable, perhaps the primary feat of the film.
The pretense of the marketing campaign for “Bad Santa” is that it caters to those who despise Christmas and the holiday season. Ironically, the film exemplifies avarice, ceaselessly exploiting every angle it can until the credits scroll. At that point, the film is dedicated “in loving memory of John Ritter,” merely because this was his last appearance in a feature film. Ritter was a man of unconquerable good humor and generosity. There could be no better way to dishonor his memory than by abusing it in such a manner. “Bad Santa” is, unfortunately, not simply a depraved interpretation of the spirit of the holiday season, it is a wholly bad movie.
Critic’s Note: This time a year past, I was wishing everyone a winter break replete with bacchanal-esque fun. These past few weeks have been a bit sobering for me so I’d like to switch things up a bit this year. I know, as Wesleyan students, we’re all so damn hip and cynical. I’m a hopeless optimist; a child at heart…and this movie truly bothered me. With that in mind, I’d like to leave you with a quote that kind of epitomizes how I feel about the season: “Christmas waves a magic wand over this world, and behold, everything is softer and more beautiful.” —Norman Vincent Peale. So, have yourself a merry little Christmas ’cause, for the next couple of weeks, our troubles will be out of sight.
“Bad Santa” is rated R (Under 17 requires accompanying parent or adult guardian) for an insulting assault upon wintry audiences everywhere, as well as a bastardization of everything that is magical and purely good about Christmas.
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