Thomas Kinkade's Christmas Cottage (2008)

The cliche, "so bad it's good," doesn't begin to convey the unprecedented absurdity that is this movie, an experience so unique as to feel alien in its approach to human emotion and storytelling. The existence of this film defies easy explanation. It is blatantly a marketing exercise attempting to promote the brand of Thomas Kinkade, a producer on the film, that inexplicably features a cast including Peter O'Toole, Ed Asner, and Marcia Gay Harden, along with talented character actors such as Chris Elliott and Richard Moll. None of them are phoning this in, either - everyone involves pours their heart into this thing, and the result is almost indescribable.

Visually, this pointedly is not stylized to look like one of Kinkade's Candylandesque dreamscapes. Instead, it aims for realism, invoking the style of 70s dramas. Director Michael Campus made a handful of well-regarded blaxspoitation films and seems to have reemerged from a thirty-two year hiatus to make Christmas Cottage. He gives the movie a notably dark aesthetic in keeping with its stated themes.

I'm specifying "stated themes", because I don't actually think they are what the movie is about, or rather I don't believe those are at all related to the underlying idea and message being conveyed. The movie offers lip service on the importance of seeing the good (i.e., the light) in ourselves and those around us (as well as its symbolic relationship to Christmas and the solstice), but it doesn't actually seem to care about that. I think the actual point of the movie is established early on when Norman Rockwell is namechecked. As the film progresses, we're introduced to character after character clearly meant to evoke Rockwell's work. We're then told these people are what inspire Kinkade.

The actual no-nonsense theme this movie wants to inception into our brains is that Kinkade is his generation's Norman Rockwell. Again, Thomas Kinkade produced this thing: it's about selling his legacy as something more than a corporate-friendly painter masquerading as an artist. To that end, it sets out to construct a metaphor comparing him to one of America's most prominent popular artists.

Setting aside the absurdity of that comparison (Rockwell actually had something to say), the movie fails to build its case. Its portrait of Kinkade as a painter for the masses is predicated on the notion that the rural townsfolk surrounding him through his childhood remain his muse. They see themselves as flawed, broken people in economically destitute regions forgotten by progress, but he sees them for their true selves: he sees the light within, and that fuels his work. The obvious flaws of the movie's supporting characters are represented by the darkness of winter. These are people starving for affirmation, and Kinkade is here to remind them the light they seek is already within them.

The problem is the movie clearly doesn't believe any of that.

Its depiction of the inhabitants of Kinkade's small town is almost universally negative. We're told that Kinkade sees through these people's quirks to their true selves, but the movie clearly doesn't think there's anything more to its subjects than potential marks. It professes to see the beauty and majesty in its subjects while treating them with disdain. The difference between what the movie says about the community being portrayed and how it appears is huge.

The movie's plot barely registers, because so much time is spent following side characters and their misadventures. However, the central conflict concerns Thomas (Jared Padalecki) and his brother, Pat (Aaron Ashmore), returning for winter break to discover their mother, MaryAnne (Harden) is about to lose her house (the titular cottage the boys grew up in). The boys take jobs to try and raise some money, but it's clear there's no way they'll earn enough.

Meanwhile, Kinkade's mentor, world famous artist Glen Wesman (O'Toole) is confronting his own mortality. He can barely paint and is developing memory issues. Can he manage one last painting before he dies?

Those are the two main storylines, but the movie is a jumble of subplots. We get a Christmas light rivalry between two local families, a town tree lighting intended to garner interest from tourists, the Kinkades' estranged father showing up to be useless, there's an aging beauty queen vying for attention, a church nativity play the town cares way too much about, and so on. This is a movie that introduces two love interests who are barely on camera and serve very little purpose - one drops in for a scene to serve as a counterpoint to Kinkade's stated belief the townsfolk are worth his time, and the other is essentially a teaser for a follow-up about his future wife that was never produced. Two-thirds of the movie is filler, theoretically justified by the conceit that it's all inspiring Kinkade to paint a mural honoring them, which in the process helps him develop his style.

It all resolves with Wesman internalizing things Thomas and MaryAnne told him producing his final work as a tribute to light and hope. He gives this to the Kinkades and instructs them to sell it to get enough money to save their home. Then he goes home and dies that night. If I believed for a moment this was actually based on a true story, I'd suspect they murdered him to steal the painting, since no one outside of the family heard Wesman gift it to them.

The holiday stuff is obvious, right? The movie outright says Christmas is about finding light during the darkest time of the year. In keeping with Kinkade's paintings, it's religious enough to convince Christians it's about them, while ambiguous enough to avoid ostracizing anyone else. You can read the light in darkness motif as a reference to Jesus or the solstice: no matter who you are or what you believe, know that Thomas Kinkade wants your money.

So, it's awful. No surprise. And you should avoid this thing like the plague, right? Right?

Hell, no - this movie is an absolute blast.

Okay, let's back up. First of all, this jumble of cynical marketing bullshit is transparent to the point of hilarity. The sheer blatancy of the whole thing leaves you watching with your mouth hanging open in disbelief this was made at all. On top of that, every dramatic moment, no matter how good the performance, falls flat on its face because the script (written by Ken LaZebnik) isn't properly structured or thought out. Everything serious in the movie is a mess.

The comedy... actually, some of that's pretty good. It's more the performances than the writing, but Elliott and Moll make the material funny by virtue of treating it like the farce it is. It's not just them, either: half the cast turns failed jokes into successes with well-timed reactions. And, to the director's credit, that wouldn't have worked if he hadn't allowed it.

This thing is awful and by virtue of that awfulness, wonderful. There's too much going on at all times for it to ever get boring, and most of what's going on is too bizarre for you to look away. I honestly had a great time watching this, laughing at the absolute stupidity of its attempts to enhance Kinkade's image and build some kind of mythology around a man whose life's work makes Coke ads look like fine art, then laughing again as talented comedians just had fun with nonsensical parts. When Peter O'Toole and Ed Asner take this seriously, it's equally funny by virtue of the disconnect between the caliber of the performers and the idiocy of the script.

This movie is horrible and amazing, and I couldn't recommend it more enthusiastically.