“You don't want to be responsible for killing the spirit of Christmas, do you... Santa?"
Nevertheless... 2020, I think it's fair to say, has been a bit pants. Many people are decorating their houses for Christmas earlier this year in a herculean effort to hold back the existential fear and despair. There are things we can do to cheer ourselves up and forget that there's a plague going on around us. The Americans did their bit earlier this month by voting out the Stupid Orange One, which I very much enjoyed, and Mrs Llamastrangler and I did our bit earlier this evening by watching this, one of Mrs L's favourite Christmas films, with Little Miss Llamastrangler.
Now, I've never seen The Santa Clause before today, as I was seventeen in 1994, too old for such films, and have never really been a great fan of overly sentimental '90s Hollywood comedies. Plus, nothing will ever eclipse Santa Claus: The Movie in my estimation.
And yet... I enjoyed this. The principle behind it- if you damage Santa, you become him, a variation of "you broke it, you own it"- is played very well. The central custody battle between Scott and his estranged wife isn't overdone into extreme weepy territory and knows when to stop. This isn't a laugh-out-loud funny comedy- it's a '90s sentimental Hollywood comedy- but Tim Allen is superb and there are enough amusing moments. And I like the literal North Pole, the elf agents with jetpacks, and the slow morphing of Scott into Santa.
And there's no denying the film has heart, is executed well, and is brimming with Christmas spirit, dammit. It is of its time and of its genre, but manages to transcend both enough to be enjoyable. This is almost as good as Santa Claus: The Movie. Almost.
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