Jingle All the Way

Chris Parnell trying out for The Wiggles.

You know those shits you sometimes take for which wiping just isn't a viable option? The kind where conducting a thorough clean up would require a feat of engineering beyond our not insignificant understanding of the physics of fluid dynamics? You might labour at it for a few minutes until the discomfort and blood puts you off and you realise that the effort is akin to attempting to mop up the last of the meat juice from your dinner plate with half a brick, and you realise that at some point you're just pushing food around your plate, metaphorically speaking.

This movie is like of those poops; It's messy, it doesn't really go anywhere and in the end you're kind of sore, but more than anything just glad that it's over.

The story is one we've heard before, and while there is some truth to it, it still irks me to have to type it - mostly because that's work, and I hate work. OK, so Howard Langston (Arnold Schwarzenegger) is a hard working father busting his arse in the holidays so his cuntish wife can stay at home and drink wine all day and neglect their shit of a kid who does nothing but watch shit TV and complain. The similarities this movie has to my life is amazing. I just hope I don't grow up to shit all over a beloved, multi-billion dollar franchise too.

So Howard is working and misses his kid's (Jake Lloyd - a whole 3 years before he would piss into our eyes as a young Anakin Skywalker) karate graduation or whatever it is they have when they get a new colour belt and have to accessorise and coordinate while fighting 5 other kids. His neighbour (Phil Hartman - who you may remember from such staples of comedy as The Simpsons and News Radio) tapes it, because his neighbour is a single dad and trying to plough more than the odd sidewalk, if you know what I mean. Howard's wife gets cranky and his kid goes on about Turboman for a bit, and then Howard realises he didn't buy the kids Christmas present - a Turboman doll.

Hold up just a second here.... Howard - the hard working, late night at the office father - forgot to buy the present. I have some questions.

1: Why did you ask a man to do something and then a) trust he'd remember to do it and b) only remind him of the task after the deadline has passed. And...

2: What, where you too fucking busy, drinking wine and baking seasonal cookies? Huh? Got too much on your plate, do you? With all that nothing you fucking do all day, you slag. "Oh Howard, how could you forget to do a simple task I could have easily done, when you only work late everyday to provide for your family that hates you as you take step after grinding step towards your inevitable grave."

I admit I may have got a little carried away there. My therapist says I'm making good progress.

So, now Howard must procure a Turboman doll on Christmas eve when they are entirely out of stock. Let the hijinx begin!
From here on out it's just utter shit. I mean, the first part was shit too, but now it's shit AND it's got Sinbad in it. So, you know, doubly shit.

There are a lot of points I want to cover, and I refuse to dedicate an entire paragraph to each, so here are some loosely thrown about in bullet point.

• Why is the wolfman sidekick hot pink? Who thought that was a good idea? This is more embarrassing for the lycanthropic community than Twilight, or that one with Kate Beckinsale in all the sexy leather.
• Why is Jake Lloyd's head so fucking big? He looks like a giant chuppa-chup, but with considerably less emotional range.
• At some point Arnold Schwarzenegger fights Jim Belushi dressed as Santa, and a midget in an elf costume. He then proceeds to fight a whole range of Santas of differing heights, ages and ethnicities. Just let that sink in for a minute. Arnold Schwarzenegger - the Terminator - beats up a has-been actor in a Santa suit, then also beats up at least one midget (there may be others). Then, because that wasn't enough, he fights a veritable plethora of Santases. Santas? I don't know what the plural of Santa is.
• Who would believe for a minute that this guy's name is Howard Langston. He's a massive, muscled dude with a thick Austrian accent and an inability to say the word 'turbo', so you give him a name so white it's difficult to look at without squinting.
•  Why is this apparent father so awkward with his own kid? Hell, even Rolph Harris is more comfortable around children. And why are you wearing a purple belt on your head and making questionably racist karate chop noises and doing air kicks? You were Conan the Barbarian for Christ's sake man, have some self respect.
•  I'm pretty sure at some point he calls his kid va-jamie, which is understandable because his kid is just an incredible cunt.
• Unexplainable Chris Parnell cameo
• The bad guy in the Turboman show touches his dick every time he wants to disappear.
• At one point, and I shit you not, Sinbad says -and I quote - "I got sickle cell. Don't hit me." He then threatens a dozen police officers with a package, claiming it's a bomb. It then, to his surprise, explodes. This isn't funny. There should be no laughs had here. Not that the deaths of law enforcement officers isn't sometimes funny - just not in a Christmas movie for children

I'm pretty sure this movie is the reason Phil Hartman's wife shot him. She saw this and was just all, "There is no way we can live with the embarrassment of being the support cast for Sinbad and that Lloyd kid." 

Here's to a film so bad, so incredibly mundane that they got Larry the Cable Guy for the sequel.

5 Stars.