‘The Merry Gentlemen’ Review: Britt Robertson Stuffs Her Stocking With Man Candy in Netflix’s Rote Rom-Com

As a cinephile with over three decades of film-watching under my belt, I must confess that “The Merry Gentlemen” left me feeling more like Ebenezer Scrooge than Santa Claus. While it certainly has its moments and pays homage to some classic holiday films, the movie ultimately feels like a tired retread of familiar territory with little freshness or innovation to offer.

Instead of labeling “The Merry Gentlemen” as “The Full Monty” combined with a Christmas-themed Hallmark movie, that comparison could be seen as an overstatement. However, it essentially summarizes the premise of this film, where a city dancer comes home to save her parents’ venue by having attractive men perform shirtless on stage. The Netflix Holiday Cinematic Universe production from director Peter Sullivan and co-star Marla Sokoloff lacks originality and inspiration, and it is delivered with visible flaws. The narrative struggles to find its footing after a promising start, and some budget-conscious choices take away from the film’s heartfelt and subtle messages.

30-something Ashley, played by Britt Robertson, is enjoying her life as a performer in The Jingle Belles Christmas Revue, with performances and rest periods spent in a charming New York City apartment. However, lately she’s been feeling somewhat out of sync with the rest of her troupe. To add to this, she’s unexpectedly let go from her job due to her supposed advancement in age. Feeling discarded too early and in need of a fresh start, Ashley rushes back home for the holidays to Sycamore Creek, a small town covered in snow and located in an unnamed Midwestern state that seems suspiciously like a Burbank backlot.

In various parts of town, Ashley’s arrival is greeted with heartfelt welcomes – from her older sister Marie’s greasy spoon diner to the live-music bar, The Rhythm Room, where she unexpectedly collides with Luke, a charming carpenter (played by Chad Michael Murray). The small establishment owned by Ashley’s loving parents Stan and Lily was once frequented by rock stars and royalty, subtly referencing “The Princess Switch.” However, it currently serves as a hangout for Danny, a regular patron, and a mountain of overdue bills. Facing the threat of eviction and a debt of $30,000, Ashley devises an all-male revue to save her family’s business, enlisting only the local men she knows: Marie’s husband Rodger, bartender Troy, and Luke, who can’t help but lend a hand, particularly to Ashley.

As a film enthusiast, I found myself disappointed that this movie didn’t venture too far from the familiar tropes of yesteryears. The plot revolves around an urbanite falling for someone in a quaint town and the critique of workaholics sacrificing love for their careers. For the creators to compete with the intellectually stimulating shared universes such as “A Castle For Christmas” and the latest “Hot Frosty,” they need to elevate their storytelling game. The movie is riddled with confusing aspects, primarily concerning character actions and scenes that either stretch the limits of believability (like a Santa photo-op happening past the bar’s closing hour) or leave us with more questions than answers. I couldn’t help but wonder why Marie would conceal her past relationship with a male stripper from Roger when he’s not shy about performing for a crowd of shrieking women?

Social media exists in this world, as TikTok is mentioned in an early scene, but nobody uses it at all to help fill the club with patrons. Surely Ashley’s dancing career would’ve guaranteed she had an account and a healthy fan following. Instead, she and Marie pass out flyers in the town square and wait for journalists to pick up their story. That’s fine for a movie taking place before smartphones were invented, but not for one set in this tech-heavy era. Plus, it’s odd that the film takes great pains to be extremely heteronormative, showing no male patrons attending these events (with the exception of the one guy working the A/V board). It pays no mind to the potential LGBTQ+ audience watching, when it could’ve seized an opportunity to be as progressive and inclusive as others in the growing Netflix Holiday Cinematic Universe (“Single All the Way” and “Falling For Christmas”).

Each performance is uniquely styled and characterized, as Sullivan leads an intricate dance routine accompanied by vivid stage lighting, editing akin to music videos, diverse costumes ranging from construction workers to Chippendale dancers, and a soundtrack licensed from the production company’s roster of artists. However, despite the display of muscular abs during body rolls, these acts seem to be simplified, unremarkable versions of those found in “Magic Mike”. They may cause blushing among older audiences, but only when family members are present.

There are highlights. Sullivan and Sokoloff pay respectful homage to their cinematic inspiration in the first montage, showing the guys’ infectious love of dance crossing over to their daily lives — cooking at the grill, storing a toolbox and making cocktails. Strong anti-corporate messaging is tucked away in the margins, from Marie’s motivation for buying the diner to the fight to keep the venue from a juice bar takeover. Lens flares center viewers in the characters’ psyches, whether it be when our heroine experiences an epiphany or when the narrative’s emotional drive ramps up.

The members of the group skillfully enhance the less-than-perfect script to the best of their abilities. Robertson excels as the main character, effortlessly balancing comedic slips with moments of emotional depth to make her character’s journey relatable. Murray, on the other hand, is delightful, infusing energy and excitement into the production. In terms of secondary roles, Caulfield is a fortunate casting decision, as his presence effectively underscores the theme of transformation. Given his past roles as a bookworm-turned-biker in “Grease 2” and a seductive pop star Rex Manning in “Empire Records,” he manages to outshine everyone else in this production.

Sentiments surrounding women unearthing hidden reserves of resilience, persevering and thriving in their second-life career choices are assuredly heartening — perhaps something Sokoloff herself experienced blending acting with her work behind the camera, writing and directing other films. Nevertheless, the predictable climactic conflict undoes the groundwork previously laid with these feminist notions, placing a finer point on romance instead of self-worth. Had the filmmakers evolved from the expected to the unexpected, this holiday romp would’ve been more merry and bright.

2024-11-20 03:20

‘The Merry Gentlemen’ Review: Britt Robertson Stuffs Her Stocking With Man Candy in Netflix’s Rote Rom-Com

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