Single All the Way (2021)

We probably should have watched this back in 2021. We must have run out of time or something. Or maybe we deprioritized it on the grounds it felt a year late - this Netflix-produced Hallmark-style Christmas romantic comedy constructed around a same-sex couple was released on the heels of several similar high-profile entries from Hulu, Lifetime, and (with caveats) even Hallmark, all of which delivered in this sub-sub-genre a year earlier. And while Single All the Way may be the first gay Christmas romantic comedy produced by Netflix (I've seen that honor bestowed upon it in several places), it's certainly not the first of its kind released by the streamer. The distinction between in-house productions and acquisitions may mean something to executives, but to those of us watching, it's hard to differentiate between something like this and, say, A New York Christmas Wedding, which came out on Netflix in 2020.

Okay, maybe not that hard: Single All the Way is, by virtually any yardstick, a far better movie, with much better production values (which in this case means more money), better jokes, more experienced stars, better direction... you get the gist. But when Netflix touted Single All the Way as a step forward for queer representation in 2021, it felt a bit late to the party. That's not to say making more of these isn't important - there's still a dearth of these compared with the seemingly infinite number of holiday romances about straight (usually white) couples - but Lindsay and I must not have felt the same drive to get to it on year one that we'd experienced in 2020.

I actually do recall why we didn't catch it soon after: we forgot we hadn't seen it. No, really: when I saw this referenced in later years on lists of beloved Christmas romantic comedies, I assumed it was one I'd already seen. It wasn't until I was reading Liz Faber's essay anthology, "Under the Mistletoe" and came across detailed descriptions of Single All the Way that I realized it had slipped through the cracks.

All of which is a longwinded way of introducing the fact I'm about to review a movie late, and in this case, that may have some repercussions. Because, while I stand by the compliments a few paragraphs earlier, my overall experience with Single All the Way was mixed. And while I believe my opinions and reactions would have been the same had I not read Molly Frizzell and Rodrigo Munoz-Gonzalez's essay, "Holiday Romance Films as Mediated Rituals" in Faber's aforementioned anthology, I can't be sure (sidenote: good essay!). There's a reason I typically try and avoid criticism until after I've written these things.

So consider that an endorsement of Frizzell and Munoz-Gonzalez's essay. Everything that follows represents my opinion, with the acknowledgment I can't know for sure whether reading their conclusions a few weeks beforehand influenced my own.

The plot of Single All the Way is, at its core, fairly straightforward Hallmark in construction, with one small alteration. And no, the "alteration" I'm referring to isn't the leads' gender or sexuality, as their being gay is entirely incidental to the plot. The character of Peter (Michael Urie) could have been rewritten as a woman, and the only things you'd need to change to make the script work would be a number of jokes and comments which don't affect the plot.

Depending on your point of view, that's not intrinsically a good or bad thing. Representation is important in its own right, and I certainly don't think every movie with queer characters needs to be about them being queer. However, it's worth noting this isn't reinventing the wheel the way, say, Happiest Season did. The goal here is simply to deliver a standard, low-stakes holiday romcom where the couple is gay rather than straight, and to do so in a way that appeals to as many fans of those movies as possible.

It's that last bit that creates a sticking point, but we'll circle back to it.

Because we're following the standard Hallmark blueprint, our main POV character (the aforementioned Peter) finds himself getting ready to go home for the holidays, leaving LA for the small New Hampshire town he grew up in. He'd been planning on bringing his boyfriend and introducing him to his family, only to learn at the last minute the man he'd been seeing was secretly married to a woman and living a double life. Peter broke off that relationship and asked his best friend, Nick (Philemon Chambers), to come home with him, initially under the pretense of pretending to be his boyfriend.

Oddly, they never actually attempt this deception. Before Peter can lie, his mother reveals she's arranged a blind date for him, and Nick - not wanting to get in the way - insists that's a great idea.

A few details about all of this. First, the reason Peter's mother, "Christmas Carole" (Kathy Najimy), doesn't assume her son and Nick are an item is that they've been friends for almost ten years, the entire family has met Nick numerous times, and everyone loves him. Actually, with the exception of Carole most of the family believes that they should be a couple Also, they're all extremely motivated in seeing Peter find a serious, long-term relationship.

So, the twist to the formula is that rather than traveling from big city to small town and discovering the perfect man there, our protagonist brings the perfect man from the big city to the small town. Other than that, this more or less all plays out as expected. The "blind date" fills the role that would be typically be the lead's alternate love interest back in the city. In this case, James (Luke Macfarlane) is a nice, attractive man who seems like a potential rival. And perhaps he could have been, if he hadn't bowed out after realizing Peter belongs with Nick.

By the end of the movie everyone realizes this, not that it was in much dispute throughout. Aside from Peter's mother, who was perhaps misled by an LGBTQ+ book she read in an attempt to be a better ally, his entire family spends the movie trying to get Nick and Peter into a relationship. It's a little creepy, honestly, given how clear Peter is about not wanting them involved in his love life (though the movie also makes it clear he secretly needs their help, which makes it all even more creepy, in my opinion).

Meanwhile, Nick is struggling with his love of Peter (and his love of Peter's family, who he desires to be a member of) and not wanting to get in the way of Peter's burgeoning relationship with James. But of course love wins out, and everything just kind of follows the formula. By the end, Peter and Nick have professed their love and are planning to move to New Hampshire to open a plant shop (don't ask) and be with Peter's family.

The biggest problem here concerns Peter's family. Nothing about them is presented as a character flaw (no, Jennifer Coolidge's Aunt Sandy doesn't count: she's comic relief - if those had been flaws, she'd have had an arc addressing them). Because of this, the movie winds ups up being the story of a family transforming their son and his best friend into a monogamous couple who will move back to their town, providing the family with labor.

That's actually kind of stated outright. Nick and Peter are both great with Peter's siblings' kids, Nick is a fantastic handyman, and the existence of their relationship seems to mean as much to Carole as it does to Peter. The family misses Peter and wants him closer, which is sort of sweet but also... uh.... Let's back up a bit.

Because while the outline would work for straight or gay characters, this is still a movie about gay men. And remember what I said earlier about this being crafted to appeal to as broad an audience as possible? In that spirit, this seems to be reassuring straight viewers that gay people are still valued members of their families, because they're capable of assisting those families in numerous ways. This is in effect commodifying queer people as assets to straight people.

I realize that's an uncharitable reading, but - in my view at least - it's how the movie is laid out. There's a reason Happiest Season's story was told around a dysfunctional family that had to grow into something worthy of its heroines. Without that, the implication is that it's ultimately up to queer people to fit into and be useful to their families and communities.

I don't seriously think that was intentional, of course. Rather, the movie was likely attempting to reassure its more conservative viewers with a familiar narrative that celebrates family as the ultimate ideal. But in doing so, they created something surprisingly regressive in subtext.

That's certainly not to say there aren't merits to the movie. I said at the start it was funny and well made - this is, from a technical standpoint, better than most streaming holiday romcoms. I understand why it's beloved by fans of that subgenre, including many from LGBTQ+ communities. Regardless of whether I like this (and I at least somewhat do), there are a lot of people who have asked for movies exactly like this for decades, and frankly they deserve to have them.

In addition, while the plot has regressive, heteronormative overtones, the movie includes content (mainly through humor, but also within a few dramatic moments) touching on sexuality (and more importantly sex) you don't see in its Hallmark counterparts. If this is being overly sensitive towards straight, conservative viewers regarding their relationships with gay relatives and neighbors, it's also subtly inferring they need to be less puritanical. That's certainly not a bad message.

I should also acknowledge most romantic comedies can be viewed through a similar prism. It's difficult, if not impossible, to make an effective movie expanding representation or espouse a progressive viewpoint without making sacrifices around approachability. However, I do think that the structure makes the regressive subtext in Single All the Way more intrusive than most other gay romantic comedies we've seen recently.