Disney+ Holiday Specials: An Almost Christmas Story & O C’mon All Y Faithful

Gen X'ers remember a time when animated Christmas specials were worth waiting all year to watch (and they were called Christmas specials at the time). Of course, Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown was the king of “holiday specials.” Kids in the 1980s and early 1990s even looked forward to the Dolly Madison commercials. Obviously, streaming changed the way viewers relate to media. “Specials” maybe no longer seem as special when they are viewable 24-7-365. Yet, the quality can still be special, or not. This holiday season, Disney+ released two holiday specials of varying degrees of specialness.

In a way, David Lowery’s An Almost Christmas Story (Oscar-qualified, but not shortlisted for Best Animated Short) indirectly revisits the question whether Die Hard is a Christmas movie when the Folksinger narrator ponders whether a Christmas setting is sufficient to make a Christmas story. In this case, the answer should be yes, given the extent of the Christmas trappings.

Having recently discovered his flying ability, the growing owl chick Little Moon shows far too much enthusiasm and not enough caution. After accidentally wrecking his nest, Moon tries to redeem himself gathering twigs, making himself a target for a predatory bird of prey. Barely surviving with a wounded wing, he waits for his frustrated father to rescue him. However, he takes refuge in the giant tree bound for Rockefeller Plaza, just as they start chopping.

Suddenly, Little Moon finds himself in the strange world of New York, overlooking ice-skaters like young Luna. (Presumably, he must somehow have slept through all the mediocre pop stars performing at tree lighting ceremony, so he is luckier than he realizes.) Nevertheless, he is quite alarmed, especially since the trio of street-smart pigeons led by the tough-talking Pat (Natasha Lyonne, almost, but not quite laying on the gruffness too thickly) greet him with suspicion and hostility rather than compassion. (Naturally, Phil Rosenthal of Somebody Feed Phil has instant credibility as Punt, the pigeon who only thinks about food). However, Little Moon and Luna learn they share an affinity beyond their names.

Partially inspired by Rocky, the owl discovered in the 2020 Rockefeller Center tree, An Almost Christmas doesn’t even get to Christmas. It only takes place during the lead-up. However, Little Moon’s desire to return home (for the holidays) is a classic Christmas theme. The use of the Folksinger (warmly performed by the just folksy-enough John C. Reilly) as an on-camera narrator, sort of like Jimmy Durante in Frosty the Snowman, is another staple of holiday specials.

The third Christmas short produced by Alfonso Cuaron for Disney+, An Almost Christmas Story was computer animated in a style that emulates various stop motion techniques. Appropriately, it has a woody, textured vibe that evokes the owls’ forest environment. Even the character design reflects the wood-work effect, like Moon’s eyes, which charmingly suggest tree-rings.

The resulting visual style is quite distinctive, while the story qualifies as endearing. As a result, An Almost Christmas Story passes the Christmas special test, even though most of its characters do not know what Christmas is.

In contrast, The Simpsons: O C’mon All Ye Faithful talks all about Christmas, but its holiday spirit feels rather Grinchy. Technically, this is episode S36E10 (featuring all the regular continuing members, who should be able to voice their characters in their sleep, by this point), but it has the distinction of being the first Simpsons programming to premiere on Disney+ rather than Fox.

Sundance ’14: Life After Beth

Teenagers and zombies both have bad skin and smell like feet.  However, the similarities end with the risen dead’s affinity for smooth jazz.  At least, that is how the zombie apocalypse rolls in Jeff Baena’s Life After Beth, which screens today during the 2014 Sundance Film Festival.

Zach Orfman was always inclined to be mopey, but the death of his out-of-his-league girlfriend Beth Slocum really has him down. He is especially anguished because their final awkward days of couplehood teetered on the brink of splitsville.  Seeking comfort in proximity, Orfman starts spending time with Slocum’s parents, Maury and Geenie, who also seem to take consolation from his presence.  Then one day they freeze him out and close off their entire house to the outside world.

Eventually, Orfman discovers they are harboring the “resurrected” Slocum, who has no memories of her fatal hiking misadventure.  The Slocums are determined to keep it that way.  They allow Orfman to renew their relationship, but insist he never tell her about her death or share the happy news with the rest of the world. It is all good for a few days, until certain changes start manifesting in Slocum. For instance, her skin is drier and her behavior is more aggressive. We also get hints she might not be the only zombie who came back.

Writer-director Baena dexterously keeps the zombie apocalypse lurking just outside our field of vision, focusing instead on the increasingly problematic relationship between Orfman and Slocum. He also stays true to the logical necessities of zombie movies in the redemptive third act climax.  However, the humor in After definitely leans toward the mild chuckle end of the spectrum.

Aubrey Plaza is the perfect choice for Slocum, jumping into the undead teenager angst and zombie gore with both feet.  In contrast, Dane DeHaan’s Orfman is a leaden presence, stuck on moody brooding throughout the film. He might be convincingly nebbish, but it is impossible to believe someone with this kind of dead fish charisma could attract the reasonably popular Slocum. While Paul Reiser (his second dad role in a Sundance film this year) and Cheryl Hines are largely wasted as Orfman’s parents, John C. Reilly’s shtick suits Maury Slocum rather well.

Life After Beth is pleasant enough, but it is quite like scores of previous teenager horror mash-ups thematically and stylistically. While it earns originality points down the stretch, Plaza and Reilly could have used some help carrying it to that point. Tightly executed but low in calories, Life After Beth will only serve as a light snack for genre fans when it screens today (1/24) in Park City, as a selection of this year’s Sundance Film Festival.

Reza’s Carnage (Directed by Roman Polanski)

It is set in Brooklyn, but for obvious reasons, Roman Polanski’s latest film was not shot on location. As a result, it confines itself to the bourgeoisie-with-pretensions-of-hipness apartment of the Longstreet family. However, that staginess mostly works for Carnage, Polanski’s big screen adaptation of Yasmina Reza’s hit play, which opens this Friday in New York.

Penelope and Michael Longstreet are liberals, or at least she is. Alan and Nancy Cowan are conservative, or at least he is. There is no question who wears the pants in each family, but that does not mean Michael and Nancy do not resent their subordinate positions. They have gathered in the Longstreets’ remarkably spacious and idiosyncratic apartment to address a violent quarrel between their young sons. The Cowan boy (or “thug” as his father calls him) picked up a handy stick and knocked Master Longstreet alongside the head.

Both sets of parents want to resolve the incident, but clearly differ in their approaches. The Longstreets, meaning Penelope, want to bring the kids together for a healing moment, whereas the Cowans (both of them really) are more down-to-business and practical. At first, everyone wants to show how civilized and rational they can be, but the longer the Cowans reluctantly tarry in that apartment, the more nerves are frayed and simmering hostilities are bluntly expressed.

Cleaving first along family lines and then realigning according to gender, Carnage spares it characters nothing. Yet arguably the PC hypocrisy of the Longstreets (Penelope) takes it harder on the chin than Alan Cowan’s self-aware social Darwinism. Indeed, the whole premise of the film largely validates his world view.

Transferring Reza’s God of Carnage to the screen, Polanski embraces the one-set four-character verbal battle royale in all its theatricality. Indeed, it is easy to see why it was such a successful star vehicle on stage. Frankly, if Polanski were not Polanski, we would probably think of Carnage as a Reza film in much the same way we consider The Odd Couple a Neil Simon movie rather than a Gene Saks film. However, Polanski is most definitely Polanski.

All four cast members get a chance to behave badly in the spotlight and chew on some scathing dialogue. Once again, Christoph Waltz does Oscar caliber work as Cowan, making condescending arrogance enormously entertaining. Since John C. Reilly still does not have his own little gold statue though, he might be the focus of the film’s Academy campaign, even though it is the least showy performance. As for their better halves, Jodie Foster loses her cool outrageously as Penelope-not-Pen, while Kate Winslet is a bit more grounded, slowly breaking through Nancy Cowan’s icy reserve, eventually reaching a virtuoso state of manic aggravation.

In many ways, Polanski is undeniably an appalling human being. In a more just world, he would be sharing a cell with O.J. Simpson in California’s skuzziest prison. Those who want nothing to do with his work have every right to their contempt. However, they will miss a really darn funny film in Carnage. Though smaller in scope and talkier than most of his films, it is pointedly witty, performed with considerable flair by its all-star cast. Recommended for those who appreciate smart, politically incorrect humor, Carnage opens this Friday (12/16) in New York at the Angelika Film Center.

NYFF ’11: Carnage

For obvious reasons, Roman Polanski did not appear at a festival press conference, nor will he be participating in post-screening Q&A’s. However, Carnage (trailer here), the 49th New York Film Festival’s opening night film, is still one of the most eagerly anticipated selections for New York cineastes, who have been packing to capacity the recently concluded Polanski retrospective at the MoMA. A nearly instant sell-out, patrons will have to decide whether they want to try their luck with stand-by tickets tonight, or wait for the film’s scheduled theatrical opening on December 16th, via Sony Pictures Classics.

Penelope and Michael Longstreet are liberals, or at least she is. Alan and Nancy Cowan are conservative, or at least he is. There is no question who wears the pants in each family, but that does not mean Michael and Nancy do not resent their subordinate positions. They have gathered in the Longstreets’ remarkably spacious and stylish Manhattan apartment to address a violent quarrel between their young sons. The Cowan boy (or thug as his father calls him) picked up a handy stick and knocked Master Longstreet alongside the head.

Both sets of parents want to resolve the incident, but clearly differ in their approaches. The Longstreets, meaning Penelope, want to bring the kids together for a healing moment, whereas the Cowans (both of them really) are more down-to-business and practical. At first, everyone wants to show how civilized and rational they can be, but the longer the Cowan’s reluctantly tarry in that apartment, the more nerves are frayed and simmering hostilities are bluntly expressed.

Cleaving first along family lines and then turning on each other, Carnage spares nobody. Yet arguably the PC hypocrisy of the Longstreets takes it harder on the chin than Alan Cowan’s self aware social Darwinism. Indeed, the whole premise of the film largely validates his world view.

Adapting Yasmina Reza’s hit Broadway play God of Carnage for the screen, Polanski embraces the staginess of the one-set four character verbal battle royale. Indeed, it is easy to see why it was such a successful star vehicle on stage. All four cast members get a chance to behave badly in the spotlight and chew on some scathing dialogue. Once again, Christoph Waltz does Oscar caliber work as Cowan, making condescending arrogance enormously entertaining. Since John C. Reilly still does not have his own little gold statue though, he might be the focus of the film’s Academy campaign, even though it is the least showy performance. As for their better halves, Jodie Foster loses her cool outrageously as Penelope-not-Pen, while Kate Winslet is a bit more grounded, slowly breaking through Nancy Cowan’s icy reserve, eventually reaching a virtuoso state of manic aggravation.

In many ways, Polanski is undeniably an appalling human being. In a more just world, he would be sharing a cell with O.J. Simpson in California’s skuzziest prison. Those who want nothing to do with his films have every right to their contempt. However, they will miss a really darn funny film in Carnage. Though smaller in scope and talkier than most of his films, it is pointedly witty, performed with considerable flair by its all-star cast. There are four sold-out screenings tonight, divided between the Walter Reade and Alice Tully Hall. Good luck getting in.

What's Eating Terri

Yes, those are pajamas, but the high school kid wearing them to class is no Hefner. He is a rather sad and lonely young person, whose closest friend might actually be the school’s vice-principal in Azazel Jacobs’ Terri, which opens this Friday in New York.

Beyond his odd wardrobe and unmistakable “huskiness,” Terri Thompson just does not fit in with his peers, but he does not seem to want to. His parents are gone, for reasons implied perhaps, but never overtly stated. He lives with his late middle-aged Uncle James, whose faculties are slowly ebbing away, largely inverting their caretaker-ward relationship. However, Mr. Fitzgerald, vice-principal for discipline, is on a mission to reach out to misfit students like Thompson. One could almost say he collects them, yet his heart is still mostly in the right place.

Terri the film is far more interesting when watching Terri the character interact with adults than navigating the standard issue peer pressure and raging hormones of high school. Frankly, we have seen all that angst before. However, Mr. Fitzgerald is worth keeping an eye on. Neither a heroic Joe Clark nor an odious “Dick” Vernon from The Breakfast Club, Fitzgerald really wants to make a connection with kids like Thompson, but he is not above cutting corners and recycling lines in the process. Yet, he displays a genuinely deep and forgiving understanding of human nature.

In the lead, Jacob Wysocki is completely convincing, conveying a lot of pain and confusion with unexpectedly assured understatement. While on comfortable ground as Fitzgerald, the flawed everyman, John C. Reilly makes every scene and each line count. His sharply written near-monologue addressing the necessary hypocrisy to be expressed by his temp secretary about to go fulltime following her predecessor’s death is well worth showing the Academy during awards season.

Perhaps the greatest surprise though is former Grassroots guitarist and eponymous American Office cast-member Creed Bratton as Uncle James, who rings quiet dignity from what could have been a largely throwaway role. Thanks to Bratton’s work, when old James has his moments, they are heavy indeed. Also making the leap from small to large screen, Rescue Me’s Olivia Crocicchia shows real screen presence, even if her character, Heather Miles, the school’s reluctant sexpot, is a rather familiar stock figure.

Oddly enough, Terri is the second film released this year featuring a sensitive PJ-clad protagonist. Fortunately, Jacobs’ take is exponentially superior to the embarrassing dreck of Waiting for Forever, because he and writer Patrick Dewitt understand on some level Thompson is a troubled kid with difficulty expressing his feelings. This is not cutely eccentric, but acutely human. Though there are no real surprises, Terri boasts a host of finely drawn performances. An often uncomfortable but well executed return to high school (from the son of experimental auteur Ken Jacobs), Terri opens this Friday (7/1) at the Angelika Film Center and Lincoln Plaza Cinema.