There's a legend of a jogger in Central Park who stopped to catch his breath, only to have a stranger creep up behind him and cover his eyes with their hands. The startled jogger turns around, and, to his surprise, sees Bill Murray to be the culprit. Murray shrugs, remarks "no one will ever believe you," and strolls off. It's a great story - uncorroborated, of course - and fits perfectly into the mystique of Hollywood's most beloved melancholy clown. And if the objective of Sophia Coppola, reuniting with her Lost in Translation star, was to encapsulate the feel of that anecdote in A Very Murray Christmas (a title that sounds like it was stolen off a t-shirt) - charming, but left in a bemused, fuzzy "did that just happen?" daze - it's a feat she accomplishes with (jingle) bells on.
'Pleasant' is the first adjective that comes to mind in describing the film, but it's swiftly followed by 'odd' and 'non-narrative'. For every enthusiastic fan prone to extolling hyperbole like "I would literally just watch Bill Murray's face for an hour," Coppola appears determined to take you at your word, with this cheerfully ramshackle vision of sugarplums loosely structured around Murray's Christmas variety show being unattended and cancelled due to a raging snowstorm. At least one part of the film is a dream sequence - I'm still skeptical that more isn't - but mostly an excuse for Murray to croon Christmas carols and banter with his celebrity guest stars who flit in and out - a cute, albeit somewhat dusty premise. As with much 'Hollywood does Hollywood' schtick, the disjuncture between celebrities playing themselves (Chris Rock, Miley Cyrus, and, yes, Clooney) and celebrities playing characters (Amy Poehler, Michael Cera, Rashida Jones and Jason Schwartzman) can be a bit rocky, but Coppola largely skirts the fourth wall with cheeky grace, landing a choice Monuments Men gag amongst others (which is already probably more laughs than the film itself yielded).
What the film lacks is much of a payoff or sense of purpose, which can make Coppola's trademark dreamy, leisurely pacing really start to grate as the festive sparkle wears off. There's a woven in subplot involving Murray reuniting Jones and Schwartzman's feuding couple after their wedding is postponed, but the strength of the actors' performances (particularly Jones) makes the 'sing your love to one another' sit uneasily, even amidst the kitschy, meta variety show aesthetic presiding over the film as a whole. As our host, Murray, playing the Bill Murray of Zombieland, birthday party crashing lore, is charm and class personified, compensating for the lack of plot with sheer charisma, but even he looks desperate for more to do, making it hard to avoid the feel of a wasted opportunity. The celebrity cameos are fun (Clooney in particular, who looks like he was paid for the gig in champagne, appears to relish the rank weirdness of his bit), but it all wears thin so soon that it's akin to the hangover hitting before you've left the party.
Coppola's Christmas Carol is as insubstantial as a Christmas cookie, but a largely cheerful evening for all who have ever wanted to spend their Christmas doing karaoke with Bill Murray (and let's face it - who wouldn't?). But, like all good Murray stories, it fades from consciousness almost immediately, unlikely to ever be revisited, but leaving a pleasantly confusing after glow. Is it likely to worm its way into the pantheon of annual holiday viewing? Nah. Give Scrooged another go instead. Ho-ho-ho-hum.
-6/10
'Pleasant' is the first adjective that comes to mind in describing the film, but it's swiftly followed by 'odd' and 'non-narrative'. For every enthusiastic fan prone to extolling hyperbole like "I would literally just watch Bill Murray's face for an hour," Coppola appears determined to take you at your word, with this cheerfully ramshackle vision of sugarplums loosely structured around Murray's Christmas variety show being unattended and cancelled due to a raging snowstorm. At least one part of the film is a dream sequence - I'm still skeptical that more isn't - but mostly an excuse for Murray to croon Christmas carols and banter with his celebrity guest stars who flit in and out - a cute, albeit somewhat dusty premise. As with much 'Hollywood does Hollywood' schtick, the disjuncture between celebrities playing themselves (Chris Rock, Miley Cyrus, and, yes, Clooney) and celebrities playing characters (Amy Poehler, Michael Cera, Rashida Jones and Jason Schwartzman) can be a bit rocky, but Coppola largely skirts the fourth wall with cheeky grace, landing a choice Monuments Men gag amongst others (which is already probably more laughs than the film itself yielded).
What the film lacks is much of a payoff or sense of purpose, which can make Coppola's trademark dreamy, leisurely pacing really start to grate as the festive sparkle wears off. There's a woven in subplot involving Murray reuniting Jones and Schwartzman's feuding couple after their wedding is postponed, but the strength of the actors' performances (particularly Jones) makes the 'sing your love to one another' sit uneasily, even amidst the kitschy, meta variety show aesthetic presiding over the film as a whole. As our host, Murray, playing the Bill Murray of Zombieland, birthday party crashing lore, is charm and class personified, compensating for the lack of plot with sheer charisma, but even he looks desperate for more to do, making it hard to avoid the feel of a wasted opportunity. The celebrity cameos are fun (Clooney in particular, who looks like he was paid for the gig in champagne, appears to relish the rank weirdness of his bit), but it all wears thin so soon that it's akin to the hangover hitting before you've left the party.
Coppola's Christmas Carol is as insubstantial as a Christmas cookie, but a largely cheerful evening for all who have ever wanted to spend their Christmas doing karaoke with Bill Murray (and let's face it - who wouldn't?). But, like all good Murray stories, it fades from consciousness almost immediately, unlikely to ever be revisited, but leaving a pleasantly confusing after glow. Is it likely to worm its way into the pantheon of annual holiday viewing? Nah. Give Scrooged another go instead. Ho-ho-ho-hum.
-6/10