By admin 
At the end of Peter Godfrey’s ‘Christmas in Connecticut’ – the best Christmas movie of all time (don’t argue with this) – beloved character actor Sydney Greenstreet, fresh from a comedy romp of epic proportions, can think of nothing more to do than throwing his mighty head in the air and declaring, “What a Christmas! Ho ho, what a Christmas!”
I also initially couldn’t think of much else to say about Tyler Taormina’s quirky and lovely “Christmas Eve in Miller’s Point.” What a Christmas indeed. The film is an eclectic mix of realism and dreamy, dare I say Lynchian mannerisms. It’s set in the 2000s but features wall-to-wall mid-20th century pop hits, like a family-friendly cousin to Kenneth Anger’s “Scorpio Rising.” When Peggy March’s “Wind-Up Doll” drowns out the family’s playtime, you can half imagine the leathery biker tinkering in the garage.
‘Scorpio Rising’ infused its action with then-pop songs as a subversive commentary on masculinity and queerness. “Christmas Eve in Miller’s Point” uses them as a glue, connecting multiple generations of a family, all squeezed into one overly decorated house. The cell phones and video games are Millennial, the music is Boomer, and Generation
All of this, for the first half of Taormina’s film, has a hazy, half-remembered quality. I wouldn’t be surprised if cinematographer Carson Lund (“Ham on Rye”) based the aesthetic of the entire film on 1980s holiday commercials. You know the kind, the ones with Vaseline stains on the edge of the frame, warm lights clashing with russet sweaters, and every conversation somehow returning to a Casio wristwatch or whatever brand of liquor that season was popular. It seems like the camera has hovered past most of the product placement — although M&Ms are certainly having their moment — and moved into the background to find out what all the extras of “Watermelon Watermeloning” are about.
The plot… doesn’t exist. Lots of things happen, but nothing drives “Christmas Eve in Miller’s Point” in any direction except inevitably forward, but that’s just the march of time. Uncle Ray (Tony Savino) is writing a book and he doesn’t want anyone to know about it. One of the children lost his pet lizard. Michelle (Francesca Scorsese, yes, the one with the TikToks) sneaks out and has a mild romantic high with Lynn (Elsie Fisher, “Eighth Grade”), a late-night bagel shop clerk. Mothers and daughters don’t connect, other mothers and daughters do connect. Regrets are passed around like sandwiches, and minor dramas arise when someone refuses to pass the sandwiches.
There’s a favorite version of “Christmas Eve in Miller’s Point” that Tyler Taormina didn’t make, but it comes close. The atmosphere of light affection fills the room like a Yankee Candle, the subplots dancing around until they find something resembling a conclusion, so it’s not entirely unlike Garry Marshall’s many ensemble holiday films, like “New Year’s Eve” or “Mother’s Day” or “Talk Like a Pirate Day,” which wasn’t a real day, but it should have been. Unlike those schmaltzy hits, Taormina’s film never relies on ingenuity, even when it comes to coincidences. It never comes close to mawkish. The sweetness hits harder.
It’s not all cheer and nostalgia. Strangely enough, there is a pervasive sense of vague menace at the periphery, the threat that something really bad could happen. “Miller’s Point” stands apart from conventional genre expectations, so anything is possible and the certainties are eliminated. Teenagers sneak out and stare at weirdos in the cemetery, drink beer, and smash stuff (always by accident, but always, anyway). Scenes fade so slowly into deep colors that it’s a little disturbing. Before the children go to sleep, it is so overwhelmingly busy in the house that it really gets stuffy no matter where you look. People with social anxiety may think of “Miller’s Point” as some kind of horror movie.
Yet that hardness is not tangible. It’s just the tone, and it never interferes with the tender reality that Taormina builds for its audience. However, the police do. Michael Cera and Gregg Turkington play crazy, laconic police officers who ignore almost every crime. They always look at each other slowly, as if to say, “I didn’t see anything if you didn’t see it.” By the time they actually say something out loud, the movie is half over, and what they’re thinking about is an oddly heavy meditation on perhaps their deep-seated sexual attraction to each other. Or maybe it’s all hypothetical. Or maybe it’s just weird. They’re in a slightly different movie, but we love it.
“Christmas Eve in Miller’s Point” is free in a way that few movies are. It’s free in a way that few people are. It is able to go anywhere and feel everything, unhindered by expectations or self-doubt. That it comes together at all is thanks to an astonishing editing style, so kudos to Kevin Anton (“Ham on Rye”), who somehow stitched together this collection of fleeting moments, difficult dialogue and only mildly funny jokes into a tapestry that is intertwined. a very dangerous evening.
The thing is, I’m not even sure if I always liked it, but I was hypnotized and that counts for something. “Christmas Eve at Miller’s Point” captures a great experience. It is a great experience in itself. It’s a little bit happy, a little bit sad, a little bit unpleasant, it’s a lot like going back home. And it’s always interesting.