First it was Coca-Cola, then gun crime. And finally the Americans hit us with their most pernicious export yet: the Christmas movie.
If the words “enchanting”, “heart-warming” and “hilarious” (in a fruity American accent) fill you with terror, it’s time to run screaming from UK cinemas. From this weekend on, the Yanks will be unleashing a barrage of cheese unheard of since you tucked into last Christmas’s “Cheeses of the World” gift set.
The first, Warner Bros’ Fred Claus, tells the story of Santa’s downtrodden younger brother, Fred, who does the sleigh run after his older sibling puts his back out. The New York Times called it a “tacky would-be comedy” full of “slobbering sentimentality”, so ideal punishment for a spouse who hasn’t pulled their weight with the Christmas shopping.
This Christmas, a Mike Leigh-with-sprinkles affair, is a “holiday melodrama suffering from severe bloat” or a “rare holiday treat” depending on who you believe.
And finally, it looks like Disney has produced this year’s savviest Christmas movie, Enchanted (pictured), the story of an animated princess in modern day New York, which gloriously sends up their own back catalogue.
