Tag: Mary Steenburgen

As far as “instant classic” Christmas movies go, the only one to really make a mark in recent years has been Clea DuVall’s Happiest Season (not, as Lindsay Lohan would like to believe, Falling For Christmas). Released in Our Year of the Pandemic, the movie was a rare bright spot in a 2020 pop culture sea of shit. For DuVall, who co-wrote the script with Mary Holland, brought audiences the so-called “first lesbian Christmas movie.” Even if DuVall might have received flak for not only casting non-lesbians as such, but also triggering lesbian audiences with her portrayal of Harper Caldwell (Mackenzie Davis). She being the closeted girlfriend of Abby Holland (Kristen Stewart). A closeted existence that adds salt in the wound of many real-life coming out stories, particularly when the whistle is blown on Harper’s sexuality against her will. Specifically, by her competitive sister, Sloane (Alison Brie).

Along for the family drama ride is Abby, who accepts Harper’s foolish invitation to Christmas with the Caldwell brood under the false impression that Harper is actually out. Even worse, she gave up her multiple pet-sitting gigs to be at this nightmare. One that doesn’t help her overcome her general disdain for Christmas, a holiday she’s grown to hate after losing her parents to a car accident. Unfortunately for her self-esteem, the only thing Harper’s family members seem to want to bring up is how she’s an “orphan”—especially Harper’s mother, Tipper (Mary Steenburgen, always obliged to play a mom role). Abby finally has to point out that she was never an orphan, as her parents died after she turned eighteen. The awkwardness quotient of spending her holiday with a different version of Harper among the conservative Caldwells is ramped up by her “daffy” (read: weird) middle sister, Jane (played by the movie’s co-writer, Holland).

But Abby would probably take Jane’s cringe-inducement over the one that arrives when Sloane does with her own family: her husband, Eric (Burl Moseley), and their twins, Matilda (Asiyih N’Dobe) and Magnus (Anis N’Dobe). Despite being a full-time mom who makes gift baskets now (or rather, “curated experiences”), Sloane still has plenty of fuel in her tank to be competitive with Harper as both patently vie for their father Ted’s (Victor Garber) approval. Becoming increasingly invisible among these long-standing dynamics, Abby is made to question her relationship entirely, as well as endlessly regretting having agreed to come at all after Harper blindsided her with the ruse they would have to put on while already driving there.

The only source of comfort among this den of wolves in sheep’s clothing is Riley Johnson (Aubrey Plaza). The fellow lesbian who just so happens to be Harper’s high school ex. Her real high school ex… unlike the puppet ex-boyfriend, Connor (Jake McDorman), who shows up to dinner at a restaurant the first night Harper and Abby are in town. Although Harper had no idea her mother would be so calculating as to invite him, Abby still feels miffed by the entire situation—rounded out by Riley also showing up to the same restaurant with her family. So that it becomes one big “Harper’s ex party” as opposed to a pleasant evening out. The mood is further dampened when Ted and Tipper are also alerted to Riley’s presence. “Her parents must be proud. And relieved,” Ted notes of Riley pursuing a career as a doctor. Tipper adds, “I know. That lifestyle choice.” “Mm, such a shame,” Ted concludes. As though Riley would be just perfect were it not for her being a lesbian.

In the meantime, John (Dan Levy), Abby’s best friend and the person she’s ill-advisedly entrusted to take over her pet-sitting duties, counsels her throughout this ordeal from afar. And when she tries to play off the unwanted charade as, “It’s kind of fun having a secret,” John ripostes, “Yeah, I mean there’s nothing more erotic than concealing your authentic selves.” Obviously, he is not Team Hide Who You Are For The Sake of Your Callow Girlfriend. Nor should anyone watching the scene unfold be.

While, yes, we’re supposed to have empathy for Harper’s intense phobia about being who she really is, in the end, all we really want is to see Abby with someone who doesn’t quite suck so much as she’s treated like a dirty little secret. And, because of all the charged moments we eventually get to see between Abby and Riley as the latter keeps encountering her in a state of distress, there was that faint glimmer of hope that Abby would actually pivot away from Harper and go for the girl that she also stabbed in the back long ago. That would be sweet poetic justice (and a full-circle scenario) indeed. But no, Harper must be cut some slack because of how she was raised—with the fear of “failure” (including being “other”) instilled within her by her own imperfect parents. And of course, Harper’s repressed situation is a foil for DuVall’s, as she spent much of her career in the closet (even despite appearing in the sapphic 1999 movie But I’m A Cheerleader), not coming out until 2016 (a somewhat ironic choice considering who took the presidency that year).

As for Stewart, who identifies as bisexual, she commented of any potential backlash, “I would never want to tell a story that really should be told by somebody who’s lived that experience. Having said that, it’s a slippery slope conversation because that means I could never play another straight character if I’m going to hold everyone to the letter of this particular law. I think it’s such a gray area [not to be confused with a gay area].” Just as it is to be stuck in the purgatory of being out in “the real world” and closeted among your nuclear family. Perhaps this is why DuVall is sure to include a speech from John, of all people, pleading for more understanding from Abby as he assures, “Harper not coming out to her parents has nothing to do with you.” This said as they take their “breather” walk after Harper’s true identity is harshly unveiled by Sloane in a very public way. By the end of the “outing,” Harper declaring her love for Abby is deemed by the latter as too little, too late.

But John wants Abby to understand that not everyone gets to have the same pleasant coming out experience that she did, giving her as a “for example,” “My dad kicked me out of the house and didn’t talk to me for thirteen years after I told him. Everybody’s story is different. There’s your version and my version and everything in between. But the one thing that all of those stories have in common is that moment right before you say those words, when your heart is racing, and you don’t know what’s coming next. That moment’s really terrifying. And then once you say those words, you can’t unsay them. A chapter has ended, and a new one’s begun and you have to be ready for that… Just because Harper isn’t ready, it doesn’t mean she never will be, and it doesn’t mean she doesn’t love you.” Ostensibly, John’s heart-rending speech doesn’t affect what Abby has decided is her bottom line: “I want to be with someone who is ready.” Hello! Riley. That spark between them being so obvious.

What’s more, Slate’s Christina Cauterucci also described “the film’s biggest shortcoming” as being how “the central relationship doesn’t seem all that great. Aside from an illustrated opening credits slideshow of moments from Abby and Harper’s history—a romantic picnic, pumpkin carving, moving in together—we barely see them interacting outside the confines of the closet… making it difficult to understand why Abby sticks around.” Especially when someone as fly as Riley makes her presence known. But with the general (though not official) confirmation of a sequel in the works, perhaps there’s a chance yet for Abby and Riley to come together more sexually for another happiest (i.e., gayest) season.