What’s a terrible song about Christmas jumpers? You know – the one you really want to see as destroyed forever? Well, it sounds on the radio when happy people travel to beautiful homes to meet old friends for the holidays, and everyone suffers for it.
There’s the narcissistic Sandra (Wallis) and milk bun Tony (Rufus Jones), and daughter Kitty (David Mackenzie), who need a lot of support. He has oncologist James (Soupe Dirisu) and his young mother Sophie (Depp).
He’s crazy Bella (Lucy Punch) and his wife Alex (Howell-Batiste). Dan Nell (Knightley) and Simon (Good), their precocious son Art (Roman Griffin Davis) and the twin boys Thomas and Hardy (Gilby and the Hardy Griffin Davis, Roman’s brother and sister in real life) was waiting for them in a beautiful house.
There are twigs and polished porcelain on the pillow. Everything is like that and almost perfect except the most poisonous cloud that devours the planet and kills everything in its path and will be here in this significant part of the English countryside somewhere shortly after midnight.
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Well, we still don’t know the absolute disaster:
Because the plot reveals details here and there, with a slightly reversed dramatic irony. There was talk of the Queen’s address, perhaps of a bunker full of dog food for Corgis, and something of state-sanctioned suicide. After all, this group of people in their forties, except Sophie.
Who was a bit of a scandal, were all friends from high school or maybe college. It didn’t matter, considering they were on their way to death – teasing and chatting with the soft little thorn before sitting down for dinner. It actually turns out to be a terrible gift for what they were thankful for.
Then they started eating, and the kids started babbling like they had heard that poison cloud turns people’s guts into a mess. The poison cloud is the mad mother’s revenge on earth on its inhabitants for treating them like trash for thousands of years.
But these guys struggle through ritualistic gift-giving to children, the usual guesswork, petty bickering, and interpersonal grumbling. However, the latter is broadcast without traditional passive aggression being replaced by brutal directness. There is debate about all of this.
There are references to the Covid conversation: the British government. Armed with scientific claims that no life form will survive a toxic attack, has administered a pill called Exit, which is humane and painless and leaves a person forever. In theory, this was better than the terrible suffering one would experience if hit by the demonic inferno clouds. But: “Do you trust the government?” asked Sandra Bella, who replied: “Oh my God, no!” You killed Diana! “
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Therefore, not everyone agreed with the plan.
The aptest argument is given by young Art, who, because things developed too early, fought fiercely against existentialism as a whole, showed that the batteries in his new Christmas gifts would outlast him and also resisted the pill. To him, choosing to self-destruct was tantamount to giving up the fight.
This worried his parents, who understandably couldn’t understand the thought of their son’s plight – and besides, everyone got to see the last thing everyone had to see, in a pile of love in bed, sinking peacefully into eternal sleep. , you know heavenly rest, as the song is called.
Well, this film is about NEWS FOR COMFORT AND JOY. Camille Griffin sticks to Silent Night’s visual presentation, and her talented cast is up and running for anything. But the real tone of this thing is oddly soft. Which is mixing black jokes and emotional drama, neither of which light up. One moment it’s sorrow.
The next, it’s a roar. Griffins meddle in political and personal affairs. But they are never fully integrated into short statements about life or death, coping or togetherness. Or the role and power of comedy in the face of tragedy. It’s a rough mix. The concept is wilder than the performance.
This film has its strengths. One sequence in which Goode reluctantly spends his last few moments glorifying his children’s petty claims. In is his noisy portrayal of parenting in its most obnoxious guise. There’s a level of complexity to Knightley’s game, given the holiday tradition.
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The attempt to maintain the status quo, so no one gets discouraged. (Of course, it tends to fail.) But the film’s entire rainbow is sadder than encouraging. And the final frame obscures everything before it, undermining any attempt to rid the sanity and truth of the overheated emotion. After all, sometimes Silent Night worked and sometimes it didn’t. Take it, leave it, but in the end, it was Debbie Downer.