All Ma’Dere (Devine) wants is to reunite her brood and have a nice, quiet Christmas where everyone gets along and bygones remain bygones. She ain’t gonna get it.
Maybe it’s because the good Lord disapproves of her secretly living in sin with Joe Black (Lindo), even though Joe’s a deacon, her no-good husband is long gone, and her kids have all flown the nest - save Baby (Chris Brown)… and he’s pretty big these days?
Whatever the reason, the rest of her clan may look like they’re living the African-American dream, but the reality is not so tinselly.
Eldest son Quentin (Elba) is a sax-playing, debt-ridden fly-by-night, just like his old man. Army officer Claude (Columbus Short) is acting all furtive because his girl is white. Baby dreams of becoming a singer but daren’t break the news to Ma’Dere (er, why?).
"as bland a buffet of characters and situations as you’re likely to see at this or any other time of year"
Of the female siblings, Lisa (King) is married to a cheating control freak (Laz Alonso) who wants her to persuade everyone to sell the family’s ailing dry-cleaning business. Kelli (Sharon Leal) is rich but single and can’t cook. Mel (Lauren London) is on her umpteenth college boyfriend.
Two bumbling debt collectors add nothing to the mix. And, as one of the producers, ER regular Mekhi Phifer has his role as Kelli’s suitor bigged up at the beginning as a “special appearance by”. What’s so special about it is unclear.
Writer-director Whitmore has served up as bland a buffet of characters and situations as you’re likely to see at this or any other time of year. Anyone expecting a hearty helping of belly laughs and juicy revelations is more likely to be overfaced by boredom.
The depth of wit can be gauged by the best gag which pertains to the phrase “Ho Ho Ho”.
As in “ho”. Ho ho ho! Whitmore also has a very strange idea of what constitutes festive cheer.
One man has a bottle broken over his head. Another pulls a gun on someone who is mildly rude about his woman. A third is angrily beaten with a belt while lying naked and defenceless on the shower floor.
It seems that most anything can be imbued with Christmas spirit as long as it’s set to a jazzy version of Jingle Bells.
But just when you start to believe that the lack of schmaltz is actually a redeeming quality, This Christmas smothers itself in cloy sauce before further outstaying its welcome with an interminable stretch of ersatz ‘fun’ that wouldn’t be worth hanging around for if it played where it belongs - alongside the end credits.
Goodwill be stuffed – this is about as appetising as a plateful of reheated sprouts.
Elliott Noble
