Tis The Season To Be Happy - Happiest Season (2020)

I have to be honest: I made a face when I got to the end of Happiest Season thanks to some of the issues that I had with this film.

That’s right: it’s only some.

I sort of loved this queer, seasonal romantic comedy for exactly what it was, but I’m also a cynical cranky man who will look at things I didn’t like, wondering what would have made them better for me. With Happiest Season, a huge part of that was wanting an edit of the story, where someone could take the film and go “Yep, there are at least two very different narratives here, and to truly embrace a season that is so happy, you need to pick one. You don’t get to have it both ways.”

Back when I watched the film and was thinking such things, I thought that was just me, being a bit too much of a grinch to truly feel this film. But then I saw other people saying similar things and I realised that I wasn’t making it all up at all. Of course, because of that, it’s not like I’m writing this and being particularly original or anything.

But as I got closer to the holiday season proper, some part of me wanted to return to this film and figure out exactly what it was about it that I really did not like.

It’s an issue that I’ve written about a lot recently. At the heart of Happiest Season is something that I find really appropriate and necessary within the queer narrative, namely figuring out where this fits in to other parts of your life, especially when applied to family, and holidays. The film is a coming-out narrative at its heart, but seen through that very particular skin, namely the art of dealing with one’s own sexuality and how you’re meant to do that when everyone else around you is busy dealing with their own stuff.

Can all things Christmas, all things family, and all things queer really go hand in hand?

Happiest Season asks that, and in fairness to the film and its characters, it’s a very tough question to ask, with the film trying its best.

We’re introduced to Abby (Kristen Stewart) and Harper (Mackenzie Davis), a queer couple enjoying the romantic side of the Christmas season and, in the midst of that romance, Harper asks Abby if she’ll come to her parents’ for Christmas. Abby doesn’t really do Christmas after losing both her parents at that time of year, but she loves Harper enough to go.

Enough to bring a ring with her, with the goal of using this as an opportunity to propose, in front of Harper’s family.

Wouldn’t that be romantic?

That is if Harper didn’t break the news to Abby while on the way that she isn’t actually out to her family, despite telling her that she had told them about their relationship over the summer.

Oh, such hilarity that will follow! Such shenanigans.! And yeah, in writing this, I really want to re-watch The Birdcage and see how well that’s aged over the years.

But while there are some such laughs in Happiest Season, there aren’t enough to embrace this as a proper comedy, with a major part of this issue lying in how determined Harper is to stay in the closet.

Harper’s narrative is important for many reasons, searching for acceptance from all her family that is, in reality, more about accepting herself. But do such questions truly belong in a cute, romantic Christmas movie?

This has proven to be part of my big issue with this film, with Harper’s story being just too big an issue to fit with the Christmas/meet-the-family/will-I-get-to-propose shenanigans. In doing so, the film doesn’t get the chance to breathe and raise itself to any of its narratives, somewhat ruining them all, taking away from both its ability to become a cute holiday romantic comedy, or an important, queer, coming out story. By trying to deal with both in the same breath, the film somewhat misses the important bits of both.

And yet, I can’t stress enough how important these bits are.

Just because Happiest Season doesn’t live up to my expectations, it doesn’t mean that such a narrative doesn’t and can’t exist. I am well aware that some of my opinion may be coming through the lens of my own experiences, a lot of which I’ve written about before.

But I also can’t help but feel like I hate Harper. And part of me wants Abby to hate her too.

Unaware that Harper and Abby are a couple, Harper’s parents are more than happy to welcome Abby to their home for the season…albeit putting her in a bedroom down the basement. Harper’s father Ted (Victor Garber) is on the verge of running for mayor, and her mother Tipper (Mary Steenburgen) is keen to play the perfect housewife and host, even before taking that into account. In fact, Ted’s potential campaign takes up an uncomfortable space within this narrative, one that is already crowded with meet-cutes, coming out and seasonal stress: this election business in particular is somewhat unnecessary, save, perhaps, for a final beat of the film. As such, the film definitely never has a chance to feel truly Christmassy, with many of the social events that the film visits leaning that bit more political or familial than wholly seasonal.

The politics of sexuality and public opinion are a curiously important part of the film, especially when showing how aggressively Harper is staying in the closet. Happiest Season doesn’t treat this aggressive closeting as a cute, laughable situation though: instead, it’s a problematic part of the story, much like it is in many coming-out stories. Harper is so fixed on image and staying in the closet that the film introduces both her ex (and first girlfriend) Riley (Aubrey Plaza), initially introduced and discussed as something of a monstrous villain, and the film then gives us Harper’s high-school-maybe-boyfriend Connor (Jake McDorman), with Harper’s family doing their best to reconcile the two.

The film plays things too cute to ever truly address Harper’s relationships with either and, in doing so, I don’t think ever truly addresses Harper’s sexuality in full. Not that the film nor Harper needs to explain that to its audience, but one can’t help but wonder if Harper’s relationship with Connor, is anything more than a friendship, or if there is some sort of ‘romance’ there, a reconciliation of sorts that leads Harper to ignore Ally for an evening while the two catch up. This is part of several things that lead to interesting interaction between Abby and Riley, who has gone through similar types of denial which outed her while Harper locked the closet door even tighter.

As this causes Abby and Riley to bond in a fashion that addresses Harper’s issues and hammers them home to the audience, (puts on Sex And The City voice), is it really the happiest season if our characters are left so unhappy?

No, not it’s not.

This is part of why I though I was alone in watching this film, and part of the reason why I didn’t write about it sooner, but nope, I am not alone. I am happy to see that my cynicism and general mistrust towards Harper and her actions are somewhat justified, and it adds to this uncomfortable feel that this film isn’t the cute, romantic holiday-season romp that its title wants it to be.

And that’s totally okay, but why does the film insist on posing as just that?

How I wanted to see the film end was with a horrible break-up, Abby finding solace with Riley, Harper dealing with her shit, and all of them running into each other maybe at the next holiday season, at which point Harper can apologise, introduce her new partner (regardless of gender), identify herself out loud and clear the air.

Instead, Harper continues to deny her true self in a fashion that pushes Abby away fully, calling for a lift and rescue from John (the underused Dan Levy, probably the only part of the film that makes it a comedy at all.) Harper appears to sort out her stuff within a few breaths, finally speaking her truths out loud and driving after Abby in an attempt to win her back, but with no more than a few minutes left of the film, Happiest Season never really addresses or accepts the scars or the healing of the relationship between them both, implying that nothing more than a simple apology can and will fix the issues between them.

Perhaps this is because the film spends significant time and energy on other secondary plots, characters and interactions that are waved away in a single line of dialogue, never truly giving the time or place to breathe on any of them. One of my biggest issues is actually in Harper’s father being played by a queer actor, the film pitching Ted as a man who has no problem with his daughter coming out…but might need some time to truly deal with it rather than fully embracing his queer daughter. When he receives a phone-call regarding his mayoral campaign (see, told you it would come back!), the endorsement of his campaign is subject to Harper staying in the closet.

It’s a powerful moment in the film when Ted turns down such support…but doesn’t say such to his family. In doing so, it shows Ted to be a very proud, loving father, one who is prepared to support and protect Harper regardless of her identity.

He just won’t say that to her face, and that seems like a very important part of what should be there in this story.

There are several similar beats to Happiest Season, and the film just doesn’t feel right as this cute, romantic Christmas comedy that leans towards all things queer. Which is totally fine. This film doesn’t have to play with some of those serious expectations, even if, in posing as this nice, quirky, seasonal film, it makes its queer issues all the more problematic.

But that’s probably something that I love about this film.

Because such stories are true and faithful to the coming out story that so many of us have gone through; whether the sense of denial, the parents not having any clue of how to deal with , and what they can do to help you when all they want is your safety.

Or maybe, like the grinch that I am, Riley and Abby should’ve just gotten together and let Harper suffer.