“It’s just a semi, don’t get so bent out of shape.”
Remember Bad Santa? I mean REALLY remember it? Because I remember it being one of those really wrong comedies that had me in stitches back in 2003. But that was the last time I watched it. So I thought I’d give the original a second pass last night before I saw its sequel.
Man that film has not aged well. An hour and a half of awfulness is the only way I can describe it. Absolute shite of the highest order that only managed to elicit a couple of mild chuckles out of me.
That didn’t leave me in the best frame of mind for the sequel, I can tell you.
Some 13 years after the events of the first film, we find Willie Soke (Billy Bob Thornton) exactly where we left him: drunk in Phoenix, Arizona, with no prospects, no friends and failing miserably to kill himself when the oven he sticks his head in turns out to be electric! When the now 21 year old Thurman Merman appears at Willie’s apartment with an invite to Chicago for a job – and an obsession that’s only grown for the drunk Santa impersonating bank thief in the decade and a half since they met – it’s Christmas in the Windy City for Soke, reunited with his pint-sized partner Marcus (Tony Cox).
A family reunion awaits Willie in Chi Town as his equally crooked mum Sunny (Kathy Bates) meets him at his destination and lays out a plan to rob a kids charity during their Christmas Concert.
IT’S FUCKING NOVEMBER!!! Seriously! I’m watching Christmas comedies in November! Whoever scheduled this release needs to be strapped to every Christmas tree that’s put up this month and left to burn with them. IT’S FUCKING NOVEMBER!
Now that’s out of my system…
I’m not sure of the purpose of this film? It’s not like the world has been crying out for Billy Bob Thornton’s least likeable screen character – yes, I’m including the arsehole from Monster’s Ball – and I’m sure we’ve exhausted all the midget jokes there are to use. So what the Hell is the point of this movie?
Let me tell you, after ninety minutes and only a few genuine laughs, I can tell you that this review doesn’t have the answer you’re looking for. I just don’t know.
Bad Santa 2 doesn’t do anything different from the original; and maybe this is its biggest problem. On a second watch, the first film does not hold up against any measuring stick you wish to use. It’s an unfunny mess of a film that can’t skate through on its cut-close-to-the-quick, politically-incorrect comedy. Not because I’m some easily offended buffoon that thinks everyone needs a safe space, but because the jokes simply aren’t funny.
This misguided attempt at raking in Christmas movie money falls for the same problem for the most part, although where the original can be chalked up to a badly aged film, the sequel has absolutely no excuse for its lazy hack job script that attempts to offend anyone. It only really succeeds in getting under my skin because I took time out of my day to watch it.
I mean, Billy Bob must be kinda desperate for cash to do this. It’s possibly his most memorable character (except for the suit from Armageddon). I will never understand why Kathy Bates is doing the awful nonsense she keeps appearing in now. Between this, Tammy and The Boss over the last couple of years, I’m starting to fall out of love with the veteran, OSCAR WINNING actress. While she gets the best of the jokes and her delivery is the only thing that dragged laughs out of me for the most part, I can’t say the same thing for Christina Hendricks. A woman who’s had some amazing roles in the past, has been dragged into this monstrosity to be the replacement for Gilmore Girl Lauren Graham as the stock romantic interest. And honestly, I’m disgusted for her, if she isn’t already for herself. Brought in only so Thornton can deliver a “I’m not into that romantic mushy stuff” joke telling her she has big tits! An awesome talent, wasted because someone wanted to make a boob joke? For fuck’s sake.
As 2016 begins to wrap up, it never stops reminding us just how fucking pitiful a year it has been for films. As we roll into Oscar-bait season, we can only hope and pray that this unwashed nutsack of a film is forgotten as quickly as its predecessor; and hopefully the world will have ended before someone greenlights Bad Santa 3: Santa Harder.
IT’S FUCKING NOVEMBER!