MOVIE REVIEW

Bad Santa  (2003)

Starring: Billy Bob Thornton, Bernie Mac, Lauren Graham
Director: Terry Zwigoff

Rating: R

Studio: Dimension

Release Date: 11.26.03

Review Posted: 11.21.03

Spoilers: Minor

By Sara M. Fetters

"Bad Santa;" Funny Movie

In a world that has embraced the putrid “Elf,” one of the single worst Christmas films ever to see the light of day, it would figure that I would in turn fall madly in love with what may be the most vile and grossly disgusting Christmas comedy of all time. But whereas the simple-minded aliment of Will Ferrell’s hit comedy has discovered mass appeal, I’m not about to even hint that Terry Zwigoff’s  “Bad Santa” will do the same. If anything this dingy little piece of cinema will probably come and go in a week, destined for the cult classic bin at a local video store faster than you can say “happy holidays.”

 No matter, I’ll take the acid-laced laughs featured here any day. This is a down and dirty comedy rutted in the gutter. While far from perfect and more than a tad disjointed, it’s still got more belly laughs in its first ten minutes than your typical comedy has in its entire run time. It is covered in nicotine stains and reeks of alcohol, crude and crass in the ways independent comedies are supposed to be but so seldom are. The biggest surprise is that it was even made, Miramax chief Harvey Weinstein willing to role the dice on a movie honchos at Disney are sure to dislike. “Bad Santa” is gutsy and not afraid to go for the jugular, lacerated with the kind of wit, whimsy and, yes, wisdom black comedies were born and bread for.

Billy Bob Thornton stars as Willie T. Stokes, a washed-up safecracker who masquerades each Christmas as a department store Santa Claus. Along with his midget partner-in-crime Marcus (Tony Cox), the duo spend a month dealing with the children of the world as Kris Kringle and his diminutive elf, only to rob the mall’s safe after closing on Christmas Eve. It’s a lucrative way to make a living, the two stealing more than enough in this one yearly heist to last them for the next 11 calendar months.

Willie’s a wreck, though. Each year he becomes more pathetically slovenly, chain-smoking and binge-drinking his way through the holiday with profanity-filled flare. It’s starting to wear thin on Marcus. The real mastermind of these heists, the minute part of this team is starting to think their current stint taking a Phoenix department store is going to be their last gig. Not that Willie really cares. He’s so caught up in his own self-loathing he hardly has the time to notice his cohort's growing hatred.

That slowly starts to change when the faux Santa meets “The Kid” (Brett Kelly), an eight year-old overweight misfit who decides – for no apparent reason – that Willie is that actual jolly man of the North Pole. No matter that he drinks like a fish, spouts swear words as if he’s writing a thesis on them and admits to having a rear-ended affair with Mrs. Claus’ sister, to The Kid, Willie is Santa, and the nefarious criminal just might as well get used to it.

I know what you’re thinking. The Kid ends up showing Willie the true meaning of Christmas, this felonious reprobate seeing the error of his ways and embraces the holiday spirit. That’s how movies like this are supposed to go after all, right? Not in the world created by director Zwigoff and writer’s Glann Ficarra and John Requa. If there is redemption, it’s a blood-splattered one chased with a tequila shooter, the movie refusing to lose its dark moral compass for anyone. Opening with Santa vomiting in an alley of lily white snow and closing out with sights of Kringle no child would ever recover from, “Bad Santa” is a litany of bad taste coated with enough arsenic to silence a choir of diamond-winged angels.

Credit goes to all involved to have the guts to take this beautifully badass movie to its wondrously putrid extremes. It is easy to see what executive producers Joel and Ethan Cohen (the brothers reportedly re-wrote the script during filming with the director, making it even more surreally unsettling) saw in the screenplay. This movie fits right into their oft-kilter oeuvre, a view of the world that’s just this side of crooked. Same goes for Zwigoff, whose last film “Ghost World” was one of the most perfectly realized dark comedies of the past decade. He brings that same, fancifully twisted touch that graced that film, only this time turning on the screws even tighter creating a land where even the most loathsome can almost be loved just for being who they really are.

The acting by all is quite fine. Thornton can play a character like Willie in his sleep, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t fun to watch. Just the opposite, the actor makes this nimble-fingered and mumble-mouthed maroon a sight to see, and Thornton elevates profanity-driven ranting to a level all its own. Even better is Cox. A veteran of over 50 films including “Friday” and “Beetlejuice,” this is a juicy, full-throttled role actors of Cox’s stature just do not get, and he more than makes the most of it. It’s one of the most lucidly self-assured supporting turns of the year. But in a movie this brutal and unforgivingly dank there isn’t a soul in Hollywood that’s going to remember it, which isn’t just a shame – it’s an out-and-out travesty.

The rest of the cast is nearly as accomplished. Bernie Mac is in fine fettle form as the mall’s chief of security, while Lauren Graham of “Gilmore Girls” takes part in a scene of front seat procreation that’s sure to live on in cult-film eternity, her chants of “f**k me Santa” sending me into fits of delirious giggles I still haven’t gotten over. Then there are the wonderful talents of John Ritter. The late television icon makes his final appearance here, showcasing his great gift for the last time. His mall manager is a revelation, Ritter’s few scenes filled with a tight-assed insecurity that’s unrepentantly ridiculous.

Not all of it works. “Bad Santa” does tend to move in fits and starts, and the last ten minutes or so drag on far longer than needed. What more, Zwigoff completely wastes the great Cloris Leachman, allowing her nothing to do other than look like a haggard, pathetic mess. And, as often as the movie hits the mark, it does have its share of moments where it goes so far past the line of good taste the film becomes borderline reprehensible.

You know what, though? I really don’t care. “Bad Santa” takes political correctness and gives it such a flagrantly prominent middle finger that I can’t help but stand up and applaud. The entire company involved with making this should take a bow. There hasn’t been a holiday film this tart-tongued since Dennis Leary tried to save Judy Davis and Kevin Spacey’s marriage in “The Ref.” Like that film, “Bad Santa” is destined for tar and feathers in the present only to be revered down the line. Until that happens, let me be one of the first to say this bilge pile of Christmas pathos is a movie to not only embrace, but to love.

Rating: êêê  (out of 4)

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