With Christmas telly scheduling saturated with a plethora of cable crap and satellite shite, the days of the nation sitting down as one to fart and fall asleep in front of the same film are sadly over. They may have been the umpteenth showings of the same un-festive James Bonds, but at least we were safe in the knowledge that up and down the land it was pretty much either that or some weird opera on Channel 4. Still, we want proper Christmas movies, so switch to channel SOURCE for a back-to-back marathon of six of the best.
BAD SANTA
About as far away from the traditional notion of the beardy fella in red as you could imagine, Billy Bob Thornton’s Santa is entirely devoid of festive spirit. Along with his evil elf sidekick he works the mall grottos, emptying the safes when they close and being pissed and awful to the kids during the day. Its horrid tone schmaltzes up a bit at the end though, and Bad becomes Good. This is the only film depiction of Father Christmas we can recall where he makes children cry, pisses himself in the Santa chair and fucks a fat woman up the arse. (NC)
ABOUT A BOY
OK, so it’s got Hugh Grant in it, but it’s also got the cocky one out of Skins with a haircut that brings tears to your eyes. It might as well have been directed by Richard Curtis (it wasn’t), but Nick Hornby wrote it and it’s not a bad role-reversal story. But the reason this is here is that the soundtrack by Badly Drawn Boy is a career best, with a great Christmas song that plays an integral part of the plot. (JK)
TRADING PLACES
Believe it or not, there was a time when Eddie Murphy made ace films. With not a ‘hilarious’ fat suit in sight, he’s on legendary form here as the impecunious street hustler Billy Ray Valentine, whose life is swapped with Dan Aykroyd’s corporate financier Louis Winthorpe for a one dollar bet. Yes, it’s a sociological examination of race and class, but the festive setting magnifies its feelgood ending and makes you feel all lovely and Christmassy. And you get to see Jamie Lee Curtis’ boobs. (NC)
THE MUPPET CHRISTMAS CAROL
Of course, there are umpteen hundred versions of the Christmas Carol, but we have a feeling old Chuck Dickens never imagined three rats in hula skirts singing ‘This Is My Island In The Sun’ when writing. Such is the genius of Henson’s Muppets. Every Christmas box is ticked – it’s funny, silly, touching and intelligent without being crass, soppy or preaching. And in ultimate Christmas box-tickery, there is no wrong age to enjoy it. Only sulky, juvenile teens think the Muppets are lame. The muppets. (MB)
DIE HARD
An oaf-headed festive orgy of people getting shot, blown up and generally killed to bits, the first Die Hard outing is still probably the best. A load of terrorists take an office party hostage, missing out on capturing Bruce Willis because luckily he’s off having a piss. The terrorists quickly realise it’s a big mistake to mess with the vest, as Bruce systematically works his way through them in a building-wide game of cat and mouse, dramatically ending people’s lives as he goes. It’s not Fellini or anything, but this and all its sequels are brilliant. (NC)
THE GHOSTS OF OXFORD STREET
Coming out of the weird musical hinterland of eighties romantic drunks, this is a Malcolm McLaren written, directed and (pretentiously) narrated musical history of Oxford Street. The cast list is essentially the last people in the BBC bar at Jools’ Hootenanny 1989: Tom Jones, Sinead O’Connor, Shaun Ryder, Shane MacGowan, Rebel MC, Rowetta, Leigh Bowery and Kirsty MacColl. The result is a romantically shambolic-in-a-Pogues-ey sort of a way, costume-drama Christmas curiosity, peppered with odd musical contributions from the cast. And Sinead O’Connor with hair. In a Victorian bonnet. (MB)
WORDS BY MATT BARKER, NICK COQUET, JAMES KENDALL
