Four Christmases: ‘Tis The Season For Crap

Like usual, it’s not even December yet and the big retailers, studios, and let’s not forget the Hallmark channel are ferociously trying to shove holiday-themed products down consumers’ throats. Personally, my Xmas movie list is already full with the likes of National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation, Rocky, The Santa Clause (but definitely not the infernally syrupy sequels) Die Hard, and Lethal Weapon. Needless to say, Four Christmases—starring Vince Vaughn and Reese Witherspoon as one of the most unlikely screen couples ever—will not be joining my holiday classics list.

After leaving the theater, my big burning question about Four Christmases was what the hell were Robert Duvall, Sissy Spacek and Jon Voight doing in this movie? (Well maybe not Jon Voight, who has been slumming it for at least the last ten years, playing Nic Cage’s daddy in the National Treasure movies). But seriously, Duvall and Spacek should just retire if their only alternative is to play supporting roles as whacky parental figures in crassly-constructed holiday star vehicles. (Incredibly, there are five Oscar winners in this baby…what gives)?

For anyone who wasn’t seen one of the ubiquitous trailers or tv spots, the title pretty much sums up the setup for the movie: Vince Vaughn and Reese Witherspoon play Brad and Kate, a happily unmarried couple who have to have four Christmases when they’re forced to visit all of their divorced parents, who have remarried and don’t talk to each other. They usually avoid seeing their dysfunctional families by hopping a plane to Fiji and pretending to be out of contact, but this year, their flight is canceled due to heavy fog and they can’t get out. To make matters worse, they’re interviewed on television, so everyone knows they’re in town (San Francisco in this case) for Christmas. They have to make the rounds, going from house to house to house to house and being forced to relive memories they’ve tried to forget. That’s how the movie is set up, basically as just four family vignettes strung together by transparent plot mechanics.

First up is Brad’s feisty old gasbag dad Howard, played by the once-venerable Duvall. Howard has two other sons named Dallas and Denver (still better than Moses and Apple). Both of these brothers of Brad are crazy cage fighters drooling testosterone…and they’re played by Jon Favreau and Tim McGraw. Yes, we’re really expected to believe that a family unit consists of Robert Duvall, Vince Vaughn, Jon Favreau and Tim McGraw. This whole episode consists of the two brothers beating the bejesus out of Vaugn while Duvall sits in a chair and throws verbal punches. Maybe it sounded funny on paper?

Then we get Kate’s sex-crazed cougar mom Marilyn (Mary Steenburgen) and Brad’s mom (Sissy Spacek…meaning Robert Duvall and Spacek gave birth to Vince Vaughn…yeah), who is in love with Brad’s best friend. Do I really need to suggest how those scenes play out? To top it all off, Jon Voight comes in to the fold as Kate’s father Creighton. His story is…who cares? I sure didn’t. We also get baby vomit and Dwight Yoakam playing a pastor, but what’s important is that Brad and Kate learn that by avoiding their families, they’ve been leading a superficial existence and haven’t appreciated true love…but now they do (my eyes are welling up just typing the words).

Look, the movie is only 89 minutes long, which indicates to me that the creative team didn’t have enough of a story to make a full two-hour movie but thought they could squeeze this thing through anyway. That’s a cheat and it pisses me off. When I pay $10 to see a movie, I expect to get a full experience, be it good or bad, and not 2/3rds of one.

The real problem here is that Four Christmases tries to have it both ways. It attempts to straddle the line between wholesome holiday fare and misanthropic, dark anti-Xmas movies like Bad Santa, instead of committing to one tone and one agenda. With a ridiculous ending to boot (again involving a baby), this is a forgettable stinker that wastes a talented cast and should be avoided like moldy eggnog.