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NOVEMBER 23, 1998:
Beware of seasonal comedies whose titles echo Christmas carol refrains. Remember
Jingle All the Way? Heed the omen. Oh, I'll Be Home for Christmas doesn't have the
aggravating decibel level or nearly the mindless mayhem of Jingle's massive affront
to the senses, nor does it fill the void with warmth or mirth or much of anything
else. Jonathan Taylor Thomas is passable as Jake, a selfish college student who runs
sophomoric cons on his richly deserving classmates. (If this California college houses
the hopes of our nation's future, our future is dim, indeed.) Still stung by his
father's remarriage only 10 months after his mother's death, Jake constantly finds
ways to avoid going home, so his father bribes him (with a classic red Porsche, no
less) as long as he reaches home by 6pm on Christmas Eve. But on the morning of his
departure, Jake finds himself in the middle of the desert wearing a Santa suit and
a glued-on beard. Ho, ho, ho, merry payback! Not only is Jake penniless and stranded,
but his girlfriend Allie (Biel), convinced she's been stood up, leaves for home with
his despicable rival, Eddie (LaVorgna). With a funny script or some genuine tenderness,
I might have been able to overlook the sloppy direction and shoddy production values.
But the film, despite a constant stream of pranks and mishaps, is mired in comic
inertia and poorly pieced together. It's the sort of effort you'd get from a tired
and tipsy parent late on Christmas Eve, trying to put together a complicated, assembly-required
toy for Christmas morning. The intent was good-hearted, but the result leaves much
to be desired. Fortunately, this movie, like a Christmas toy, has an audience more
concerned with the packaging than the contents. The kids who know the stars (the
teen heartthrob and middle son on the sitcom Home Improvement and the beautiful and
wise older sister from 7th Heaven, in case you don't have any pre-teen girls in your
household) will no doubt find the pratfalls and puking scenes hilariously funny and
the romantic scenes excruciatingly, deliciously discomfiting. I'll Be Home for Christmas
has the feel and look of an aluminum Christmas tree -- sparse, artificial, and cold,
with a cheap shininess that undermines any attempt at warmth or poignancy. The story
is supposedly about a boy who learns the meaning of Christmas on his cross-country
odyssey, but a Norman Rockwell ending can't fill the shallow emptiness of this picture.
I'll Be Home for Christmas is like the tableau in a snow globe -- after all the whirling
(and blatantly artificial) snow has settled, not a single figure has actually moved
or changed.
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