JINGLE ALL THE WAY (1996) *1/2 There are many, perhaps endless, reasonable grounds upon which to indict, mock, ridicule, deride and ultimately convict the cinematic career of Arnold Schwarzenegger. It cannot be said, however, that he took himself too seriously. It may be said that he was over his head in every single role (I don't think this is quite true, but it's hardly an egregious misstatement), but it may not be said that he took himself too seriously. If, during the opening sequence, you have the sinking feeling that the film may never rise to this level again, I was once like you. And yes, the feeling is ultimately vindicated. The movie makes its semi-merry way, leaving a trail of trace elements of satire and a sense that it might have also contemplated comedy at some point. Rita Wilson is hardly a character for the ages but she's close enough to normal that you have to feel sorry for her, torn between a disastrous marriage and the attentions of Phil Hartman. (Hartman is incredibly, deliberately nauseating; take a gander at this role and then tell me why Phil did such a great Clinton impression) The final twenty minutes, when they pretty much give up any pretensions of anything and just do the wildest things they can think of, are a marked improvement. Is it enough to absolve psychologically absentee dads everywhere? I don't know. I don't know what kind of hints of absolution they'd be satisfied with.
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