Problem: negative
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Answer: Not as bad as you've heard. There are actually some funny parts and Affleck and Applegate have fairly good chemistry. Applegate, in particular, is appealing and likable as Affleck's love interest. James Gandolfini and Catherine O'Hara are consummate professionals. They're pretty good in just about everything. In the end, "Surviving" is not the worst holiday movie you'll ever see.

Unfortunately, it is unfocused and much of the comedy is forced. The attempts at dark humor come off as dour. Affleck tries hard to be endearingly spastic and overenthusiastic but comes across as disturbed. His character's cartoonish nature is brought into high relief when viewed next to Gandolfini and O'Hara's more muted, believable performances. Even by the relaxed standards of holiday movies, you never fully buy into the set-up of Affleck "renting" this family for X-mas.

There are also scenes that border on the surreal in their strangeness. The X-mas eve scene replete with incestuous humor (a son being discovered looking at naked, provocative pictures of his mother) that not only isn't funny or believable but disturbing.

To make matters worse, the colors in this film are muddy, almost noirish. The house set on which most of the movie takes place looks stagey and cheap.

"Surviving" is mostly of interest as the fourth in a string of box office duds (Paycheck, Gigli, Jersey Girl, and this) for Affleck. It remains to be seen how lasting the damage will be.

Problem: negative
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Answer: I know, I know, "Plan 9 from Outer Space" is the worst movie, or maybe "Manos, the Hands of Fate." But I can't get worked up over those sock-monkey movies. Of *course* they're bad. How could they be any good? But if you're talking about movies with respectable production values and bankable talent, the T. rex of all turkeys has to be "Yentl." All the treacly phoniness, all the self-absorbed asininity, that stains everything Barbra Streisand has done since 1964, reaches its culmination in this movie. From its lonely summit of awfulness, "Yentl" looks back to "A Star is Born" and forward to "The Mirror Has Two Faces." There is nothing else quite like it. What emotional undertow dragged Streisand out to make this movie I would rather not speculate, and what audience she was playing to I cannot possibly imagine, although I'll bet there's a nine in ten chance you aren't a member of it.

Nobel Prize-winner and saintly guardian of Yiddish literature Isaac Bashevis Singer was so outraged by what Streisand did to his story that he blasted her in public for it. It is a tribute to Streisand's impenetrable vulgarity that she not only didn't commit suicide, but went on to make more awful movies.

Problem: negative
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Answer:
Nick Cage is Gates, a treasure hunter (oh, excuse me... treasure "protector", whatever that means) who is descended from a long line of treasure hunters. One of his ancestors had been given a clue to the whereabouts of a huge treasure that our Founding Fathers, most if not all Freemasons, had decided to hide because they just didn't want to finance their Independence all that badly.

The first clue turns out to be in a long-lost ship hidden in the Arctic. Gates and his crew, consisting of financier Ian (Sean Bean), Movie Dork Riley (Justin Bartha of the immortal "Gigli") and a couple of faceless lackeys, enter the cargo hold of the ship. They immediately spill out tons of gunpowder all over the floor, not that this is significant in any way. At last they find the clue (a skeleton is hovering over it) and it turns out to be a pipe with writing... on it. Sort of. Don't ask me to explain.

It's a riddle, and despite the fact that his expedition is clearly miffed at not finding the actual treasure, Gates wanders around yammering to himself about the meaning of the riddle, in this frozen cargo hold, while the crew just stands around slack-jawed. I mean, come on. Someone should have been a little vocal in their disappointment of coming all the way to the freaking Arctic and not finding anything interesting, but they just stand there as Gates enters his own world, solving the riddle.

The next clue turns out to be on the Declaration of Independence. Ian decides to steal it. Gates is appalled. Various characters deliver gratingly obvious exposition (get used to it). All this leads to Ian's lackey pulling a gun on Gates, and the gunpowder going off in a big explosion. (oh, that's why they spilled all the gunpowder! Huh!!) Ian and his henchmen make their escape, and Gates and Movie Dork Riley walk nine miles in subzero temperatures to an Inuit village in order to stop them.

To stop them, Gates concludes after trying the FBI and Super Archivist Abigail Chase (Diane Kruger), Gates and Riley must steal it themselves. Riley then tells Gates in excruciating detail why they can not steal the Declaration, because it's so protected with metal and laser eyes and high tech security blah blah. Gates then tells Riley that there's an opportunity to steal it from the Preservation Room. Does Riley know what the Preservation Room is, Gates asks? "A place where they make jams and jellies?" I am not kidding; that's the actual line. Bartha doesn't deliver it like a joke, either. So Riley does all this research about the Library of Congress and the Archives and water and sewage, fercryinoutloud, but doesn't know what the Preservation Room is. This pretty much indicates what level this script is on.

To make the rest of this short, Gates does in fact make off with the D of I, in a ridiculous break-in that could only happen in a movie. (I also hate the way they depict computer monitor technology in movies -- full of improbable and impractical graphics and fonts.) Abigail Chase ends up tagging along for convenience's sake, and as an obvious "love interest" angle. At one point, the three of them, on the run from the law, discuss all their plans really loudly in a clothing store, surrounded by people.

A series of clues and the kidnapping of Gates' father, played by a dyspeptic Jon Voight, leads good guys and bad guys alike to a huge Indiana Jones fun-house located underneath New York City. Odd that the subway builders never found this thing. Gates and Gates Senior lead Ian off on a wild goose chase. Ian believes they're trapped in a cul-de-sac and leaves them there. However, after they're gone, Riley asks how they're going to get out. Gates...

... oh boy ...

... presses a button and a door opens. No, I'm serious. A button, like they might have on a vacu-flush lavatory in an office building. Good thing he knew where that was. Anyway, after some more knob-twiddling, they find this immense treasure room (remember, this is all underneath Manhattan!) full of all sorts of historyish golden things. Riley gets to deliver a really stupid line. Again. And FBI officer Harvey Keitel forgives them, arrests Sean Bean, and allows the two chemistry-less leads to get married.

For any viewer, I think it would be hard to ignore all the exposition, the leaps of logic, and the stereotyped characters for very long. Though some of its exposition involves nice history lessons inserted into conversation at random moments. I'd like more conversations like that in my life.