A Christmas Ponderance

[Originally published: 13th Dec 2022]

Hello readers! Today’s blog post is coming in the form of a film review – although that isn’t as straightforward as it sounds. Yesterday I had the misfortune of watching A Christmas Prince on Netflix, which describes itself as a “romantic comedy”, despite being neither of those things.

This is in no way my sort of film. In fact, it was only chosen in anticipation of it being dreadful, as it was deemed to pass the “so bad it’s good” threshold. As you may have guessed, this was a social occasion, and the role of the film was to bring everyone together in shared discomfort – a task it fulfilled perfectly.

A bit of context

A Christmas Prince comprises 90 minutes of tropes, tinsel-clad castles and fully believable human dialogue that definitely wasn’t written by AI. Indeed, the film was written by a woman named Karen – which, unlike the plot, makes perfect sense when you think about it.

In brief: a journalist from New York is sent to the Kingdom of Aldovia to get her “big break” writing about a mysterious, “playboy” prince. He is due to announce whether he will accept or reject the throne – a decision that, for inexplicable reasons, must be made by Christmas Day. Through a series of things happening in sequential order, otherwise known as plot, our young, female protagonist ends up pretending to be the governess of the princess, in order to unearth tabloid-worthy truths about the prince. There is a lurking ex-girlfriend, a slimy cousin vying for the throne, dead parents, and a totally inconspicuous, giant wooden acorn that is in no way Chekhov’s unexplained item in plotting area. Oh, and it goes without saying that the journalist and the prince must fall in love.

Why do we need to talk about this?

By now you’ve probably noted my disdain for this film. However, as easy as it might be to tear into it, when I was asked to give it a rating, I struggled. Don’t get me wrong: there is a lot to dislike about it. But I know this film was never made for people like me. It knows what it is. It knows what it wants to do. And it makes this clear from the outset. Therefore, taking all personal taste out of the equation, does this film achieve its own aims? Quite simply: yes. Yes it does. But does this make it a good film?

Somehow, A Christmas Prince made me return to the age-old question of how we define entertainment. What is art, really? I mean, it sure as hell isn’t A Christmas Prince, but let’s keep the discussion going while the momentum lasts.

Objectively bad

I said there was a lot to dislike about this film, but for the sake of my time and yours, I will focus on the two main offenders.

Firstly, the characters: if they can even be described as such. Unfortunately, they have no discernible personalities beyond “the main one”, “the mean one”, “the prince one” and “the dead one”. Worse still, the plot is never advanced by decisions made by the characters, but by random events that just so happen to involve them. The only characters with agency are the villains, but as their motivations remain a mystery to the viewers (and presumably the writers), they only serve as plot devices. Literally the CASIO 9750GII.

Secondly: the plot somehow manages to be both non-existent and predictable, relying on tropes to the point where we wished we’d drawn up a bingo sheet beforehand. We all know that the journalist and the prince will hook up at the end of the film. We just have to sit through 90 minutes of other stuff first, and hope that the writers throw occasional rewards our way.

However, the story is so starved for content that it falls back on weedy reserve tropes that had no place on the front line. For example, when our minimalist journalist protagonist follows the prince into the trees at the end of the garden, she gets set upon by wolf (singular), and must be rescued. This is despite the film having no track record of violence or threat – a track record it maintains, as the wolf only flashes a cheeky bit of tooth before skulking away. That’s about as exciting as it gets.

But what if… Good?

The thing is, there will be people out there who love this sort of thing for the exact reasons that I don’t. The characters are simple, so they don’t require any explanation or deep thinking, and they certainly don’t prompt any soul-searching within the viewer. The protagonist is only hollow because she’s a literal vessel to channel the fantasies of the viewer: to let them live vicariously through her total lack of agency. To have a personality is to risk alienating the audience – which is the last thing this film wants.

In terms of plot, I can only assume that some people take comfort in knowing exactly how something will end. Maybe this is why Titanic did so well? The film that is. Not the ship. The audience know exactly what they’re in for, and any clever attempts to overturn stereotypes or deconstruct tropes will not be appreciated. This film will have absolutely no thinking or threat – and that’s a sacred promise.

Can we judge art on its own terms?

This dreadful film did everything it set out to do. It died peacefully, surrounded by family, knowing it lived its life to its fullest. Of course, it was then resuscitated against its wishes, and another two films were beaten out of it in order to flesh out the Netflix Christmas Cinematic Universe (this is apparently real). But the first film ended with an air of satisfaction, at least. It set a low bar, but it passed that bar. So was it a good film, really?

If a piece of media does everything it set out to do, and makes people happy as it does so, then it is valuable. If a piece of media has clear delusions of grandeur, then falls flat on its face, it can leave a sour taste in the mouth – even if it does a lot of good along the way. We might consider something to be a masterpiece if it revolutionises the field, but what if a piece of art just straight up aces a niche which has been done a thousand times already? Can works inspired by others, or following tropes, be considered great – or even greater than the originals?

Perhaps this is not a problem with the films themselves, but with attempting to rate them on a numerical scale. Who knows?

That being said, please remember to rate my books on Amazon. Thank you.