Exhibit A in coming up with the title first and reverse-engineering a premise: Violent Night. “Okay okay okay … picture this: It’s Die Hard, but Nakatomi Plaza is the mansion of a family of rich assholes in Connecticut, Hans Gruber is John Leguizamo, and John McClane is Santa Claus.”

That’s really about all you need to “get” Violent Night, and maybe all the movie is going to give you. Tommy Wirkola’s film has the disadvantage of following numerous previous films that have featured a “bad” Santa Claus, both real and shopping mall Santas, both in terms of pickling himself in alcohol (the actual Bad Santa from 2003) and in terms of his unlikely fighting skills (the Mel Gibson vehicle Fatman from two years ago). Any of the one-time freshness of a Santa Claus who does things a Santa Claus is not supposed to do is now about as appealing as yesterday’s unrefrigerated egg nog.

But Wirkola and screenwriters Pat Casey and Josh Miller think they still have something to say on the subject, even if that thing was said a lot better in the all-time action classic and beloved Christmas movie referenced in the first paragraph. Violent Night is clearly leaning into its Die Hard comparisons, as Santa is even in conversation over a walkie talkie with a young girl who fulfils the role of Reginald VelJohnson’s police officer to Bruce Willis’ McClane. Any comparison with Die Hard does this film no favours.

We meet Santa Claus (David Harbour) in a pub in England, which is where he’d stop after Australia but before the States. He already seems three sheets to the wind despite the massive undertaking that still lies ahead of him – hey, do your drinking one of the other 364 nights, Santa. And clearly he’s lost the love of the work he’s been doing as Father Christmas for the past millennium. After drowning his sorrows, he drowns the bar owner in vomit as his sleigh is lifting off the pub roof.

Fortunately, a family of assholes in America will give him reason to believe again. The Lightstone family, led by domineering matriarch Gertrude (Beverly D’Angelo), are gathering at her Connecticut compound to engage in the annual rites of sucking up to her. Gertrude’s terrible daughter Alva (Edi Patterson) and her vacuous movie star husband (Cam Gigandet) reflect Gertrude’s venality, but her son Jason (Alex Hassell) has fallen a bit farther from the tree. He’s got his problems – he’s separated from his wife Linda (Alexis Louder), though she’s agreed to join the Christmas festivities for the sake of their daughter, Trudy (Leah Brady). But at least he’s got salvageable qualities, which will show themselves over the course of the evening.

An evening in which the mansion will be beset by thieves in search of $300 million in cash held in a vault on the premises, led by a man who only identifies himself as Mr. Scrooge (Leguizamo). After subduing all security and staff through primarily fatal means, the thieves seem to have a clear path to their prize – except that at the time they start shooting up the place, Santa has raided their liquor cabinet and is currently enjoying a soused repose in their massage chair. Even if he’s no longer feeling this Father Christmas gig and would just like to get out of there, he can’t leave a true believer like Trudy in peril.

There aren’t a lot of surprises from here. If you’re hoping for some clever fight sequences that will at least prompt “oohs” and “ahhs” in terms of brand new, Christmas-themed methods for dispatching a bad guy, you’ll mostly be out of luck. They try, but the effort is fruitless outside of a scant few inspired moments. Which seems particularly disappointing given that David Leitch, the stuntman turned director known for his fight choreography in films like John Wick and Atomic Blonde, serves as a producer.

Violent Night blunts its already minimal impact by offering up a truly puzzling tone. Its musical score is right out of the most conventional Christmas movie you could imagine being released in 2022, or really, in 1982. If that’s the point, it’s not made strongly enough. Anything and everything about the little girl, Trudy, is terminally precious, most notably the performance of the young actress. Everything about its “true believers power Christmas” theme – which seemed genuinely heartfelt in Elf – is earnest in a cloying way that’s out of sync with the smartass tone the film employs elsewhere. This is the sort of film that tries to save itself with deadpan deliveries and comic patter, but those aren’t sharp enough to win a laugh, and they also underscore the schizophrenic presentation of this material.

Anything that’s good about Violent Night – and there ain’t much – can be attributed to David Harbour. The Stranger Things star has a charisma that can substitute for actual substance, and he occasionally converts our yearning to like the film into something positive. He needs to do a lot better than this with his movie choices, though. Harbour had the misfortune to associate himself with the doomed reboot of Hellboy in 2019, and a second outing as a character defined by the colour red doesn’t figure to endure much better in our collective memories.

 

Violent Night is currently playing in cinemas.