Happiest Season Makes the Yuletide Gay
Lesbians everywhere gathered around televisions and laptops on November 25th, clamoring to feast their eyes upon Happiest Season, a holiday romantic comedy from Hulu. The film, directed by queer icon Clea DuVall, stars Kristen Stewart and Mackenzie Davis. As the pair prepare to spend Christmas together as a couple, they trek back to Davis’s hometown. Awaiting them is her eclectic family, the likes of which include Alison Brie and Mary Steenburgen.
What ensues is a fresh take on the age-old concept of a holiday romance. Before the first twenty minutes of the film have concluded, revamped storytelling methods from the 2010’s era of romcom are apparent. Audiences crave new twists on already beloved tropes, and their thirst will certainly be quenched in the case of Happiest Season.
Stewart and Davis are magnetic together. From the opening scene, right down to the very last, viewers are able to feel the chemistry radiating off of them. There’s a notion of understanding the present, knowledge that each one is holding the other as they execute the dance of telling this story. This works to their advantage, presenting itself in their comedic cadence (in Stewart’s case, particularly), timing, and overall presence throughout the movie.
The film boasts an impressive ensemble cast, featuring Aubrey Plaza, Dan Levy, and Mary Holland. In the case of Steenburgen, we see what may be the most hilarious performance of the entire movie. Her obsession with running an Instagram account for husband Ted’s (Victor Garber) mayor campaign provides many instances of laugh-out-loud dialogue, of which I was not anticipating.
I’ve been waiting for a film like Happiest Season for a long time. Growing up, as I struggled to come to terms with my sexuality, I longed for representation in cinema that could help me figure out where I belonged. The idea that young queer people of the future will have this film to watch and enjoy, fills my heart with more happiness than I can say. DuVall incorporates the different sorts of issues that can arise between same-sex couples in a seamless fashion, which was refreshing, to say the least. Because let’s face it, queer couples are going to argue about things that heterosexual couples just won’t. DuVall knows this, in fact, she’s proud to show it off.
The topic of coming out might as well be its own character. It’s always looming over Davis and Stewart’s relationship, taunting them and serving as a constant reminder of the complete happiness that they are unable to achieve. After a tense moment with Brie, Davis finds herself forced out of the closet. This scene provided one of my first criticisms of the movie. I hate the forced coming out trope. In fact, I don’t think hate is a strong enough word. It’s an incredibly real reality for many queer people around the world, and for that my heart shatters, but I am so sick of seeing LGBTQIA+ people suffer in cinema.
Happiest Season is a joyous film at its core, but the amount of anguish that the characters have to endure in order to reach happiness leaves a rotten taste in my mouth. Did we not see enough depressed, longing, lesbian glances in Carol? When will our leading queer ladies get to be elated from start to finish? Is it too much to ask for a movie that doesn’t feature any angst? Or at least, none that includes the leading couple? Audiences want to see that. They won’t be bored, unimpressed, or itching to change the channel.
We wouldn’t be able to address the things that Happiest Season gets wrong without stating the (painfully) obvious: it’s, like, the whitest movie in the world. The main ensemble cast sports 3 actors of color, 2 of which being children with hardly any lines. Burl Moseley is Brie’s husband, and honestly, he deserves better. He’s a bit of a mystery for the majority of the film, most of his storyline intertwining with Brie and their “gift basket business.” His character arc doesn’t really kick up until the film’s finale, where it is revealed that he has been cheating with Carolyn (Sarayu Rao).
Rao is also fantastic, though her presence is small and unforgettable. I can’t help but be disappointed by the treatment of these characters. As 2 of the movie’s only cast members of color, the fact that their storylines mostly revolved around infidelity is disheartening. It seems as if DuVall used their undeveloped roles as excuses to add in extra drama. While this theme is seen way too often in modern filmmaking, it is particularly crushing in this instance. Happiest Season is marketed as an “inclusive” holiday story, but just how inclusive is it when the non-white actors can’t get decent writing or plot points?
As one of my most anticipated releases of the year, I eagerly pressed play on Happiest Season when it dropped at midnight. What followed was a charming film about what it means to truly love somebody, and how family is more subjective than relative. Featuring exceptional performances from all involved, the movie is an adorable holiday film for the entire family. This does not mean, though, that it is without flaw. Happiest Season may be considered a win for the queer community, but were all members of it considered during production? There are more than just white LGBTQIA+ people, but when watching, you’d never be able to tell.
I am so proud of the advancements that we have made within the past decade. I am acutely aware of the fact that this film may have not been possible to make not too long ago. While I am ecstatic that it exists, I want queer people of color to be able to identify with films as strongly as I can identify with Happiest Season. Not just because they can relate to the characters, but because there are actors that look like them. I’d recommend this movie to a friend, sure. But do I think it satisfies every need for representation in Hollywood? Absolutely not. We still have a long way to go before that point. But hopefully, Happiest Season can be a touchstone of the progress that we have made, and how far we have left to go.