Am I supposed to have an opinion on mumblecore? Because I honestly don’t. And I feel like any review of a Joe Swanberg film is supposed to be prefaced with some expounding on how the writer feels about mumblecore, as it’s a style that draws reactions in a very binary, love-it-or-hate-it range. Thus, one must make clear what stance they take on the film in question in relation to all those “other” mumblecores. “I usually don’t like it, but this one is different!” “I liked it, but it should be noted that I don’t mind mumblecore.” And so on and so forth. I have liked some mumblecore movies, and I have disliked others. I’m distrustful of anyone who dismisses whole aesthetics out of hand. All of this is a long roundabout to saying that I enjoyed Happy Christmas quite a bit, but I can’t help you if you harbor any distrust of mumblecore.
Anna Kendrick stars as Jenny, a feckless 20-something who moves to Chicago to stay with her older brother Jeff (Swanberg) after a breakup. Jeff lives a pleasant life in a nice house with an awesome basement, along with his wife Kelly (Melanie Lynskey) and toddler son Jude (Jude Swanberg). Jenny shifts their status quo in ways both negative (getting blackout drunk on multiple occasions) and positive (encouraging Kelly to dive back into her writing career). There’s not much of a plot. Jenny looks for a place to live, tentatively woos babysitter/pot dealer Kevin (Mark Webber), and hangs out with friends. The movie isn’t exactly a breezy slice of life, though — uneasiness undergirds much of Jenny’s interactions, as her lack of responsibility and self-loathing threaten to undo any improvements she makes in her life.
Kendrick has established a “type” as the driven young woman who has a plan of action and has usually ticked off half the items on it. Playing a booze-abusing slacker is not an unexpected deviation, but she makes it work. In particular, she’s nailed down the aversion stance that any fuckup will take when they’ve, well, fucked up: the body coiling defensively into a question mark shape, every vocalization a bitter mutter, the averted gaze that’s lined with guilt and embarrassment.
More importantly, Kendrick knocks against each member of the ensemble in an entertaining way. I don’t know that she and Swanberg are convincing as siblings, but they do have an endearing interplay. And she and Webber are cute together. But the film really belongs to Jenny and Kelly, who build a truly touching friendship after initial chilliness, and in an authentic way. Bits with them pounding back alcohol or planning out an airport erotic novel are a delight. Lena Dunham also shows up sporadically as Jenny’s only Chicago friend, Carson, and she’s a treat, getting to play against type. While Dunham’s usually played the girl who has no idea of where she’s going, Carson is put together, especially next to Jenny. All of them get the show stolen from them whenever tiny Jude shows up, though. They’re all talented ad-libbers (as in most of Swanberg’s films, the actors improvised dialogue off an outline rather than using a concrete script), but none of them can hold a candle to his bizarre baby proclamations.
Happy Christmas is the kind of movie whose tone seeps into you as you watch it. It’s extraordinarily pleasant, though it jibes enough darkness into itself that it doesn’t feel ephemeral. It’s a brief visitation with characters whom you grow to like, at a time in their lives that isn’t revelatory, but an interesting state of flux. And it has a cute baby saying silly things.
