Reflexive Christmas cheer without the jeer

Rating: 8/10 (14 December 2015)

At first glance, it's hard to imagine a less likely candidate for an unironic Christmas film than the director/star of the snappy, sardonic Swingers (and soon-to-be director of Iron Man, of all things). Yet, curiously enough, it's this particular background that makes Jon Favreau so well-suited (ha) for the job. Sharp enough not to tumble into the schmaltz too heavily but shrewd enough to recognize the value in playing it straight, Favreau's Elf hits the ideal balance between being fun for kids while clever and sweet enough to remain tolerable for adults without caving to becoming closeted-self-loathing. It's no wonder that such a comparatively recent film has already worked its way into vintage holiday movie canon.
Favreau is evidently nostalgic for the good ol' days of Christmas flicks (check out the distinctly Rudolf-esq stop motion Arctic creatures and Seussian snowflakes, some of the film's most delightful additions), but is clever enough to have a good beat on what makes them tick. Like all the best elating seasonal fare, Elf delivers a story of a fish-out-of-water outcast struggling with abandonment and an inability to fit in, but finds inspiration in his unflinching cheeriness in the face of his adversity, and its infectious effect on the community. Between corporate office culture, rampant consumerism and the bedraggled staff responsible for hocking it, there's a fair share of Scrooginess proliferating the film, but, bouncing along like a pointy hat-sporting George Bailey, Buddy the Elf(/human? Elf-man? Humelf...?) remains such a radiantly positive character that it's impossible not to be won over by him, as the film's other characters echo.
Though there are gleeful setpieces aplenty (the "you're not Santa!" toy store brawl is already iconic, but Buddy's proficiency in a snowball fight is just as wickedly fun), Elf works by never abandoning its core emotional story, weaving in touching beats throughout, as Buddy connects with his estranged "naughty listed" father and thug life brother, and clumsily wooes his jaded coworker (one of the film's few objectionable bits - while cute, it's a bit underdeveloped, not to mention eyebrow raise-worthy how quickly she acclimatizes to a romance with a man who, for all intents and purposes, has the mental facilities of a 12-year old...). Pacing-wise, the film ticks along at a satisfyingly jaunty rate, and it only helps that Favreau commits to the tone aesthetically, with popping, vibrant candy colours and soft-focus lighting that allows the film to almost literally sparkle. The climax, finding conflict in Santa's sleigh crashing in Central Park, beset by Nazgûl-like park rangers, would play as laughably shoehorned in if Favreau didn't deliver it with such a knowing wink, and, strained as it might feel, he pulls it off without distracting excessively. And aww shucks - who could begrudge to a finale that dives whole-hog into sentiment - a Christmas spirit-inducing sing-a-long, no less! - so confidently and unironically, that, unlike most such euphoric 'happy endings,' it actually works really well. Hell - if James Caan's humbug can sing along, you sure can too.
It's impossible to imagine the film to work without the stupendous work of Will Ferrell powering it. Like Favreau, Ferrell has mastered a delivery that plays to multiple audiences at once, allow him to sound wholeheartedly sincere yet uproariously stupid in the same breath, yet uniquely lovable either way. In between the inevitable more kid-friendly slapstick (and thankfully only one burp joke), Ferrell is never crass about Buddy's childlike approach to life, mining it for the utmost of wide-eyed truth, and he's all the funnier and more adorably charming for it.
The rest of the cast, thankfully, are game to echo Ferrell's spirit. James Caan is pitch-perfect as the curmudgeonly Scrooge too wrapped up in exploiting nuns and orphanages to pay attention to his giddy elf-son, while (a jarringly blonde) Zooey Deschanel showcases the luminescent, quirky charm that would shortly catapult her into stardom (she even sneaks in a couple of songs for good measure). Ed Astner's gruff warmth makes him the most definitive Santa Claus since Richard Attenborough, and the hangdog charm of Bob Newhart lends the film's narration a perfectly relaxed airiness. The ever-adorable Mary Steenbergen helps the film's emotional heart blossom as Caan's more amiable wife, while Daniel Tay avoids the curse of the obnoxious Christmas child star with an edgier and more sly precociousness. Favreau even sneaks in some parentally crowdpleasing cameos - hey there, Kyle Gass from Tenacious D and Andy Richter! - while Peter Dinklage just about walks off with the show with his sublimely preening rock star children's author.
Confidently festive and heartwarming with just the right underbelly of snarky eye-rolling, Elf is a true delight, and one of the most worthwhile additions to the Christmas pantheon. Although it's not as ambitious or infused with an emotional home run as other holiday classics, it's inevitable that the Christmas cheer level on the Clausometer will receive a hefty boost upon viewing or revisiting Elf.
I'm still not eating spaghetti with maple syrup, though. That's a step too far.
-8.5/10