Bah, humbug!
MANILA, Philippines - As a kid, chances are that the magic of Christmas is represented by certain imagery that systematically brainwashes you into resonating with the spirit of the season. In my case, a lot of it was imprinted with a staple of Hollywood holiday fare. For me, “Christmastime” was summed up by any variation of the following elements: the family always comes together, forest animals frolic, the guy always gets the girl, and the snowy scenery adds to the enchanting nature of the mise-en-scène. It’s a formula that has worked time and again. But if you’d rather embrace your inner Scrooge, soak in some cinematic sights that are guaranteed deterrents to all the Yuletide cheer instead. Here’s my suggested list of “Ultimate Onscreen Christmas Buzzkills.”
The War of the Roses
Danny DeVito’s darkly comic divorce tale is smartly written and ably acted by Michael Douglas and Kathleen Turner as we witness their progression from young lovers to embittered adversaries fighting for possession of the home that quite literally becomes their battlefield. Taking place during presumably their last Christmas together, the couple and their two children decorate the Christmas tree and, once plugged in, the lights begin to flicker. Barbara, the wife, concludes that there must be a short-circuit and is thoroughly alarmed, but Oliver, the husband, dismisses this. This act is just the latest demonstration of how fully developed the tension is between them and each family member leaves the living room. Moments later, the Christmas tree is up in flames, perhaps serving as a portent of the destruction that is to come.
Schindler’s List
There’s no shortage of cringe-worthy brutality in Steven Spielberg’s sprawling cinematic achievement that took home seven Oscars. One of the most memorable images is simple yet poignant: a one-armed old man who thanks Oskar Schindler for employment in a factory that consequently saves his life on the basis of his usefulness. One snowy day, an SS unit crosses paths with him and his co-workers. As they’re all ordered to clear the snow from the street, a gunshot rings through the air, and the face of the one-armed machinist falls into the frame, his blood slowly clouding up a clear patch of ice.
The Long Kiss Goodnight
In Renny Harlin’s unintentionally laughable tale of an amnesiac assassin, the director’s ex-wife Geena Davis employs her athletic frame to full effect in various action sequences that defy logic (or even sanity as it usually does in Harlin’s films.) Before all the mayhem though, she has to be shaken from her blissfully ignorant state as a small town schoolteacher. Memories of her past life as a gun for hire come rushing back to her after an accident that involves a reindeer, a large tree and crashing through her windshield headfirst into a pile of snow. Her first display of rediscovering her dark talents: mercy killing the maimed animal by snapping its neck like a twig. Rudolph had it easy.
Up In the Air
While The Hurt Locker deservedly picked up the Best Picture trophy at last year’s Oscar’s, I was actually leaning more towards Jason Reitman’s timely and touching treatise on cutthroat corporate politics. Its crisp dialogue had an easy charm, and the performances were subtle yet soulful. The best moment onscreen was during the potentially romantic climax. George Clooney’s Ryan Bingham prepares to eschew his impervious philosophy that kept this “shark in a suit” shielded from emotional attachments and their inevitable disappointments. The snow dances delicately while he rushes to the door of the woman who has shaken his belief system, and you can’t help but feel the rush of excitement; the pulse of his idealistic awakening. As he stands on her front porch drunk on expectations, the door slowly opens to reveal that he was right to be so guarded all along. He doesn’t say a word, but you can almost hear his heart shatter.
Antichrist
Lars Von Trier’s hypnotic exercise in horror is a maddening display of the macabre on an almost unwatchable level. While the latter parts of the film showcase a variety of gag-inducing imagery (including genital mutilation), the prologue is almost equally unsettling. As Charlotte Gainsbourg and Willem Dafoe’s characters are consumed by their carnal cravings one winter’s night, a draft blows one of their apartment windows open. The couple is so enraptured in erotic fulfillment that they do not notice their young son stir from his sleep, walk past their room, and approach the open window. As they escalate towards climax, the child climbs up to the window, slips, and plummets to his death — setting in motion the man and woman’s downward spiral into grief and lunacy. “And a little child shall lead them” is right.
