Yule Be Sorry

The Phenomenon of the Bad Christmas Film

Roasted chestnuts crackle in the winter air, while the dialogue in bad Christmas films crackles like static. As deadlines hang over us — like the ever-present moon, now that the nights stretch longer than the days — I have resorted to the distraction of my familiar programmes. But Gilmore Girls and Depp v. Heard don’t subdue me in the same way anymore. With Netflix fully embracing our generation’s overconsumption — now in the form of bad Christmas films — I’ve turned to a new kind of mindless comfort, filling half of my laptop screen with them as I do my secondary reading.

It is essential to distinguish between a good and bad Christmas film. Love Actually and The Holiday capture the essence of the Christmas spirit by subtly exploring the emotions and relationships that define the season without directly focusing on the holiday itself. They stand as excellent films in their own right. In contrast, Elf and Home Alone embrace the quintessential elements of Christmas head-on. Yet, even as they celebrate the holiday, they encourage us to reflect on the deeper meanings of family, the values we associate with Christmas, and the way it shapes our lives. Both types of films, while distinct in their approach, offer thoughtful reflections on the season, posing questions about its true purpose without being heavy-handed. The bad Christmas film, however, is poorly-written, true-love-centred, and often features High School Musical’s Vanessa Hudgens. Hot Frosty is the latest addition to Netflix, shockingly featuring another underbooked actress, Lacey Chabert (the “that’s so fetch” Mean Girl, Gretchen Wieners). Gretchen is now Kathy. For the first ten minutes, everyone in the cast shouts “Good morning!” at Kathy as part of their three seconds of screentime. Everyone points out that Kathy is single. And a widow. Kathy, therefore, has a terrible life, and it takes a snowman melting into a man with defined arms — which the videographer has no shame in showing off — who falls in love with her and heals her heart in the true spirit of Christmas.

We mock these films, yet they continue to get funding. There are three movies in the A Christmas Prince saga, and they’re all a mouthful: A Christmas Prince, A Christmas Prince: The Royal Wedding, and A Christmas Prince: The Royal Baby. Why do these terrible films get funded for sequels? Why is the viewership so high? Does that mean we secretly like them?

The appeal lies in the search of a good feeling, whether pursued consciously or not. Two feelings might explain our heightened viewership of these films. The first lies in our ego: ‘I could write it better.’ As overconsumption grows, we revel in a feeling of collective denouncement. There is a camaraderie found in being right. Like gossip, this pursued feeling travels back to the start of humanity. We first create relationships through agreement — through a sense of morals. The collective rejection of a bad Christmas film is a harmless judgement that allows us to gauge our relations with others. The other emotion we chase is nostalgia. Have you ever watched a movie that left such an impression on you that you couldn’t help but search for its doppelganger? We yearn for that comforting familiarity, hoping to recapture that unique feeling that made the original so memorable. If neither of these answer the question of why, then it could just be that you’re a student in St Andrews with nothing else to do. It is Baltic outside.

Whether actors are aware of it or not, bad Christmas films don’t take themselves seriously. The screenwriters know exactly what they’re making. That’s why they cast Gabriella Montez and Gretchen Wieners, whose familiarity to the audience becomes their greatest characteristic as they explore less demanding opportunities in their acting careers. As for Emilia Clarke — there is no excuse. Luckily, after her 2019 debut in Last Christmas, she’s managed to step away from the bad Christmas film circuit. Now, having starred in the 2023 film Pod Generation, she seems to be more of an Easter girl. I encourage you to be like Emilia Clarke and stop caring about what participating in the bad Christmas film market means about you. After all, you can always split your screen.

Illustration by Sandra Palazuelos Garcia