A White Christmas For a Black Sheep
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There’s a chill in the air and the leaves have finally begun to change, but the surest sign of the impending holiday season is the exploitative children’s fare we’ve come to expect in the months leading up to Christmas. Tim Allen is probably trying as we speak to pry himself into parents’ pockets one more time with “The Santa Clause 4: The Actor in Need of Paycheck Clause.” In the meantime, David Dobkin’s “Fred Claus” slides into theaters today.
“Fred Claus” tells the story of Santa Claus’s underappreciated and resentful brother, Fred (Vince Vaughn). Paul Giamatti plays the jolly old saint, who tries his best to fix his dysfunctional relationship with his brother. The trailer for the film shows the two actors on the doctor’s couch with Mr. Giamatti in full Santa regalia, and the dynamic between the lovable figment and his disgruntled brother clearly pleased someone enough to create the convoluted plot that gets them there.
Fred, an irritable repo man, has always resented his altruistic younger brother. The film begins in the magical realm of their youth, then shoots past a few hundred years with a disclaimer about saints being frozen in time, along with their families and life partners. Cut to the present, where Fred’s dream of opening a successful gambling business across from the Chicago Mercantile Exchange is cut short by his lack of funds. He ends up in jail and begrudgingly calls his younger brother for bail money, plus the $50,000 down payment for his off-track betting racket. Santa concedes, if Fred will put in a few days’ work at the old toyshop. But when the season arrives, Santa is behind schedule and Fred keeps screwing up. Will Christmas survive?
Despite some of the film’s manipulative aspects, watching Messrs. Vaughn and Giamatti play off each other in intimate moments is often rewarding. But the writers are not fully up to the task of following through on them. I blame story creator Jessie Nelson. The script flaws may be more the fault of screenwriter Dan Fogelman, but I’m still bitter about Ms. Nelson’s painful, horrible Diane Keaton/Mandy Moore “comedy” “Because I Said So.”
The film will also disappoint fans of Mr. Dobkin, who directed the 2005 smash hit “Wedding Crashers,” featuring Mr. Vaughan prancing around in his patented abusively endearing shtick. Where that film was unrelenting in its dedication to plot and character continuity, “Fred Claus” often drops the ball. Mr. Vaughn’s skill with insult comedy has become something of a crutch. His inspired performances in films such as “Old School” and “Swingers” are often duplicated to diminishing effect. The writers here play up his rapid-fire delivery, often burdening him with more words than a person can listen to in one sentence. Like Bill Murray in “Scrooged,” Mr. Vaughn unexpectedly makes for a lovable children’s hero, and for a holiday children’s film, he escapes with relatively few indignities. But even his dry nonchalance and wit cannot overcome charmless dance scenes and bungled attempts at elfin cuteness.
Like the successful Will Ferrell vehicle “Elf,” “Fred Claus” tries to get mileage out of the size disparities of the elfin community, but it misses the mark with its depictions. “Fred Claus” terrifyingly superimposes the head of John Michael Higgins onto the body of a little person to portray Fred’s trusty sidekick Willy, and rapper Ludacris gets similar treatment to play Santa’s elfin disc jockey, Donnie.
Watching these creatures dance is more likely to inspire nightmares than affection, and threatens to put “Fred Claus” in another genre entirely. Luckily, Mr. Giamatti anchors the film with a surprisingly charming interpretation of Santa Claus. Mr. Giamatti, in a disturbingly realistic fat suit, imbues Saint Nick with a warm, dependable nature. Miranda Richardson makes a similarly stable Mrs. Claus, fearing for her husband’s health and maintaining a logical distrust of his brother.
Wanda (Rachel Weisz), Fred’s improbably beautiful English girlfriend, has a lack of judgment that extends past her dating life into her career decisions. Somehow, Wanda has migrated from England to Chicago to be a meter maid. She sure is pretty, though. Kathy Bates and the inexplicably silent Trevor Peacock are similarly misappropriated as Fred and Nick’s parents.
The stroke of casting genius, though, comes with Kevin Spacey as the film’s anal-retentive villain, Clyde, the efficiency expert who threatens to shut down Santa’s operation. The script once again fails to outline where he was sent from or how he has the authority to end Santa’s career, but Mr. Spacey’s performance transcends those pesky details. Understated and maniacal, the Oscar winner puts to shame other overblown holiday villains who run rampant in Christmas entertainments (think Martin Short, Jim Carrey, Danny DeVito, Chevy Chase, et al).
Ultimately, the film struggles to float its sweet message, that there are no naughty kids, but “Fred Claus” does manage to grasp the cinematic magic of Christmas once it gets past the rigors of plot machinations. If kids can get past all of that, parents might be subjected to repeated viewings.
mkeane@nysun.com