My movie may be seasonal, but it’s not Jolie

Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 27/11/2017 (3212 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

I don’t know what you guys have been doing for the past month, but I’ve been lying on the couch in my den watching Christmas movies on my big-screen TV.

I don’t mean festive Hollywood blockbusters featuring big-name actors. No, I’m talking about cheesy made-for-TV movies starring B-list actors who you may or may not recall seeing in a commercial for bargain laundry soap or taco dip.

These slapped-together holiday flicks have been airing non-stop on every other channel for several weeks and, despite my obvious high-brow tastes, I can’t stop watching them, even though they all share the same basic plot wherein a single mom with multiple kids, many of whom have rare diseases, moves to a small town and eventually falls in love on Christmas Eve with her ruggedly handsome former high school boyfriend and/or the local banker.

In a sincere and humanitarian effort to cash in on this entertainment trend, I took several valuable minutes on Friday to bash together the following script for what I’ve decided to call Doug’s Generic Holiday Movie. Enjoy:

Scene No. 1

(Several people are standing in a seasonal store selling giant novelty candy canes, felt reindeer antlers and fuzzy Santa hats when, suddenly, a beautiful woman walks through the door.)

Leading man (furrowing his brow): “Hello, there. You look remarkably familiar. Do you mind if I ask your name?”

Beautiful woman: “Yes, I’m Angelina Jolie. You may know me from such movies as Lara Croft: Tomb Raider and Gone in 60 Seconds.”

Leading man (scowling): “OK, there’s been some terrible mistake. This is a low-budget made-for-TV special and there’s no (bad word) way we can afford you!”

Angelina Jolie (walking to the door): “That’s what I thought. Ciao!”

Scene No. 2

(The same group of people are standing around in the same store sipping eggnog, crafting homemade holiday ornaments, and nibbling Turtles when, suddenly, an entirely different woman walks in.)

Second beautiful woman (glancing around furtively): “Well, here I am, a completely different single mother with a truckload of kids, hoping to land a job and, just possibly, find true love in this fictional but quaint village.”

Leading man: “Hello. You look familiar, but not so familiar that you threaten to violate any copyright laws or require us to cough up a big contract. Have I seen you before?”

Leading woman: “Yes, you may have seen me in that commercial for toilet-bowl cleanser, or possibly on the Home Shopping Network selling knockoff costume jewelry. These are my movie kids, several of whom have exotic and potentially fatal-sounding diseases.”

Leading man: “Ho, Ho, Ho! I am definitely falling in love with you in a seasonal sort of way.”

Sickly child (coughing): “Are you an idiot, or what? You don’t fall in love until the final scene. Read the (expletive deleted) script!”

Scene No. 3

(The camera zooms in on the lovebirds sitting at a table in a candle-lit restaurant. He is wearing a Santa cap and she is sporting novelty elf ears. A choir is singing Frosty the Snowman — “Thumpety, thum, thump” — in the background.)

Leading man (handing the woman a tiny velvet box): “I know it may be too soon in the film for this, but I wanted you to have this sincere expression of my deep holiday-season-inspired love.”

Leading woman (eyes growing to the size of manhole covers): “What a beautiful diamond-encrusted fake ring!”

Leading man: “Yes, it belonged to my grandmother.”

Leading woman (making a sad face): “Oh, I’m sorry. When did you lose her?”

Leading man: “What? No, she’s still alive. I just took it out of her jewelry box.”

Leading woman: “Oh.”

Scene No. 4

(It’s Christmas Eve at last and our love interests are sitting beside a fireplace, near a beautifully trimmed tree, while a generic elevator-style voice croons something about chestnuts roasting by an open fire.)

Leading man: “Well, here it is Christmas Eve and we had better be in love now because there’s only about five minutes left before the credits roll.”

Leading woman: “OK, let’s pretend to kiss, because my contract states that anything more isn’t included in the budget of this movie.”

Leading man: “Sounds good to me. By the way, whatever happened to those realistically cute kids of yours who were so sick in the first few scenes?”

Leading woman (eyes brimming with tears): “I… I… I don’t know how to tell you this, not on Christmas Eve.”

Leading man (voice trembling): “Ohmygawd! Don’t tell me Tiny Jim is dead!”

Leading woman (rolling her eyes): “Huh? Don’t be stupid. He got signed to do a commercial for some sugary breakfast cereal, so we had to write him out of the last scene.”

Leading man: “Oh. Um… Merry Christmas!”

Leading woman: “Yeah, ditto.”

(As the camera fades to black, we hear the sound of Christmas bells ringing … or, just possibly, a cash register.)

doug.speirs@freepress.mb.ca