On paper, “Oh. What. Fun.” has the makings of an attractive holiday feature that encourages Prime Video subscribers to click play: Michelle Pfeiffer leading a company of instantly recognizable actors directed by a notable filmmaker, a heartfelt story about the harried holidays from the vantage point of an egregiously underrepresented POV in the genre (mothers) and a soundtrack littered with festive songs covered by musical artists with household names. However, director Michael Showalter’s yuletide anthem for unheralded matriarchs fumbles severely, delivering bland comedic hijinks, insufferable characters and generic conundrums. It makes audiences wish for the slightly darker version simmering beneath the surface, instead of the one with a Norman Rockwell-esque, shellacked sheen and rushed resolutions.
Houston housewife Claire Clauster’s (Michelle Pfeiffer) favorite holiday is Christmas. She eats, breathes and sleeps all things Saint Nick, dreaming year-round about how to make the season perfectly jolly. Her husband Nick (Denis Leary) supports her obsession to an unhealthy degree, as he’s completely unbothered by any of her needs. She’s the type of person who genuinely delights in hosting the annual familial festivities for their three now-grown children.
First to arrive is eldest daughter/mousy novelist Channing (Felicity Jones), along with her long-suffering husband Doug (Jason Schwartzman) and their tween twins, Lucy (Rafaella Karnaby) and Ben (Drake Shehan). They’re followed by the youngest, newly heartbroken slacker Sammy (Dominic Sessa), and finally middle child/lesbian love-bomber Taylor (Chloë Grace Moretz), who’s brought home the latest (Devery Jacobs) in a long line of girlfriends to meet the Clauster clan.
However, Claire’s world is rocked upon discovering that none of her ungrateful kids has given her the only gift she’s ever hinted at wanting: a from-the-heart letter entry in a Best Holiday Mom contest. The altruistic gesture would mean that they appreciated her yearly efforts to go above and beyond, and winning would mean an all-expenses-paid trip to Burbank to meet her idol, self-help guru Zazzy Tims (Eva Longoria). Claire’s discontent is palpable, manifesting in a passive-aggressive gift exchange with adversarial neighbor Jeanne Wang-Wasserman (Joan Chen), and escalating dramatically once her family forgets her on an excursion into the city. Havoc and a modicum of hilarity ensue.
Showalter, who’s no stranger to directing powerhouse leading ladies (including Sally Field, Anne Hathaway, and Jessica Chastain) in female-driven films (such as “Hello, My Name is Doris,” “The Idea of You” and “The Eyes of Tammy Faye”), keeps the focus locked on Claire’s anxieties and external societal pressures, primarily through voiceover narration. We can also easily spot the ample reasons why she cracks, showcased in subtle reactive moments and overt dialogue-heavy slights. Pfeiffer shapes her miffed mother into someone with an interesting internal dynamic that drives the action, even when the logistics of her change baffle and appear antithetical to her character’s initial setup as a stereotypically perfect, subservient wife, mother and human being.
That said, the lackluster material (which Showalter cowrote with Chandler Baker, who also gets story credit) unfortunately lets a luminous Pfeiffer down too early on, undercutting her performance prior to the midpoint. The filmmakers fail to give tangible meaning to Claire’s crumbling psychosis as her tightly wound life unfurls and her conspicuous character flaws take hold. She fat-shames Channing (giving her carrots instead of homemade cinnamon buns), shoplifts and sneaks onto a studio soundstage, but rarely suffers any consequences for her actions.
Claire’s emotions motivating her mental breakdown are dealt short shrift once her unappreciative family inevitably comes crawling back in the 3rd act. Her self-reflection, acknowledging the toxic role she played in her own demise, is missing the punch it desperately needs. Outside of Channing, none of these people are truly held accountable for their selfish actions in any significant way. They all move on without sincere apologies and earned emotional change.
Comedic shenanigans are heavily orchestrated, awkward and quickly wear down one’s patience. The mall security pursuit, the abrasive delivery driver (played by Danielle Brooks) with whom Claire is forced to bunk while out on the road, and Zazzy Tim’s unburdening session over booze and weed aren’t nearly as hilarious as the filmmakers want us to believe. Doug’s preoccupation with being besties with Taylor is the most cringey of the sibling storylines, narrowly edging out a random choreographed dance sequence between Sammy and girl-next-door Lizzie (Havana Rose Liu). The lone segment that does elicit a few chuckles plays off the tired joke that dads struggle putting together complex kids’ toys, as Nick enlists his construction employees to help him build an overly complicated, plastic Dreamhouse for the twins.
While “Oh. What. Fun.” is far from being any fun as the title even sarcastically promises, it excels when it favors its progressive genetic makeup. Leaning into the darker undertones of the material, albeit all-too-fleetingly, helps color and shade our heroine as an antiheroine. Including ’80s songs (Talk Talk’s “It’s My Life”) and yacht rock classics (10cc’s “The Things We Do For Love”), as well as their hipster cover versions, adds a delightfully unconventional vibe to the seasonal soundscape.
Though it hopes to resonate in a way similar to the Christmas-themed escapades in “The Family Stone” and “Happiest Season,” Showalter’s stab at a holiday staple is more akin to a belabored offshoot of the Christmas Bathrobe skit on “Saturday Night Live.” A fed-up mom experiencing a psychotic break and abandoning her family to meet her TV idol is a great premise for an indie comedy. It’s a shame they’ve refurbished the concept into an upbeat, feel-good presentation for a high-profile streamer, shoehorning false notes of poignancy into the proceedings and giving it all a “heartwarming” conclusion.
