natmavila

Alright, *All I Want for Christmas* (1991) is like getting coal, but the coal is somehow insulting you. This movie follows two kids who plot to get their divorced parents back together for Christmas, and it's like *Home Alone* and *The Parent Trap* had an illegitimate lovechild who was promptly disowned. It's supposed to be "heartwarming," but the only thing it warms is my impatience, which was boiling over around the 30-minute mark. These kids' plan is so convoluted it feels like a test in unnecessary problem-solving. And don't even get me started on the "romantic" moments between the parents-it's like watching two cardboard cutouts flirt.

The dialogue here could've been written by a chatbot, and not even a good one. Every line feels like it was workshopped at a corporate board meeting where no one has ever experienced joy. Watching the kids try to manipulate their parents is somehow both creepy and mind-numbing; they keep whispering and giving each other knowing looks like little Bond villains. It's weird. There's a scene where they try to set their mom up with a "suitable" partner, and honestly, I was hoping she'd just run away with him to escape this chaotic nightmare.

And the cherry on top? Santa Claus himself shows up, but he looks like he's barely holding it together, and I'm pretty sure his Christmas magic ran out back in 1989. By the time the movie ended, I was just grateful the credits rolled and didn't reveal a sequel. *All I Want for Christmas* made me realize what I really want for Christmas: 90 minutes of my life back.

Oh boy. *Christmas Evil* is like if Santa took a sharp left turn off the North Pole and right into the deep end of "What were they thinking?" This movie wants to be a psychological thriller about a man's descent into holiday-fueled madness, but what it really delivers is 90 minutes of off-brand Santa giving everyone the creeps. Our lead, Harry, has the intensity of a man who looks like he eats candy canes *whole,* plastic wrapper and all. Watching him get angrier and angrier about people not respecting Christmas is less scary and more like watching your weird uncle rant at the family dinner table about "the true meaning of the holidays."

The pacing? Slower than a one-horse open sleigh stuck in molasses. Harry doesn't actually start doing anything "evil" until well over halfway through the film. Up until then, we're treated to an endless parade of him peering through binoculars at neighborhood kids, spying on co-workers, and obsessively keeping lists of who's "naughty" and "nice" like a deranged Walmart Santa with a grudge. When he finally goes full Santa-slasher, the kills are bafflingly sparse and lackluster. For a movie titled *Christmas Evil,* you'd expect more...well, *evil*. Instead, he mostly just looks confused, shuffling around in a costume that looks like it was borrowed from a local theater production of *A Christmas Carol.*

But, in a weird way, *Christmas Evil* is almost so bad it's good. There's something genuinely entertaining about how earnestly the movie tries to sell this deranged holiday spirit as both tragic and terrifying. Instead, it's just awkward, with random musical cues and baffling edits that make it feel like a fever dream of a Christmas nightmare. It's not scary, it's not heartwarming, and it's definitely not a holiday classic, but if you're looking for an accidental comedy that's equal parts unsettling and unintentionally hilarious, *Christmas Evil* might just be the lump of coal you're looking for.

Anna Kendrick saw the true crime genre, rolled up her sleeves, and said, 'Hold my kombucha.' Woman of the Hour is somehow both chilling and hilarious, like if Dateline and The Office had a baby and dropped it on a game show set in the 1970s. Picture it: you're a serial killer, doing what serial killers do, and suddenly you're smack in the middle of a brightly lit dating show with your teeth sparkling and disco music blaring. Kendrick takes this insane, true-crime setup and delivers it with both suspense and the kind of awkward humor that reminds you why she's not just an acting triple threat but also somehow the best friend we all wish we had.

Honestly, I didn't know if I should laugh or keep my door locked for the next three days. Daniel Zovatto's Rodney Alcala is terrifyingly convincing as he oozes charm in that 'should we run or should we laugh?' way. And Kendrick as Cheryl Bradshaw? Perfectly naive, quirky, and 'I made an oopsie by picking a serial killer' kind of vibe. Also, how is this her directorial debut? It's like she's been quietly studying Hitchcock, true crime podcasts, and 1970s fashion catalogs on the side. The suspense hits hard, but Kendrick's got that light touch, balancing out the horror with just enough comedy that you don't quite lose your faith in humanity... but you definitely side-eye anyone who's a little too charming.

This is the rom-com crime thriller I didn't know I needed but now can't stop thinking about. The cinematography? On point, like a vintage Polaroid come to life. The soundtrack? Funky and fabulous, somehow making you feel like you're dancing on the edge of danger. Woman of the Hour is the best reminder that sometimes, truth is stranger (and way more unsettling) than fiction. Kendrick, you've outdone yourself. Now, please, no more TV dating shows for any of us. Ever.