It’s the time of the year where Hollywood sets its sights on the world’s most lavish consumerist event, hoping to capture the spirit of the season and captivate audiences, who are undoubtedly clamouring to get into the Christmas mood. Every year, we receive new Christmas-themed films, many of them following a familiar formula, which we don’t really notice when we’re blinded by good cheer and a lot of effervescent comedy. One of the more interesting recent examples is Happiest Season, a film that attempts to be both a wonderful holiday film, and another entry into the steadily-growing canon of queer-oriented films. It’s difficult to dismiss this film as merely just another Christmas story – not only is it directed by Clea DuVall, who is evolving from a wonderful character actress to a truly gifted filmmaker, but it’s such a sweet and sentimental story that prioritizes queer issues in a landscape that is still struggling to fully-embrace this line of storytelling, bursting into the mainstream in the hopes of staying there and inspiring other filmmakers who have stories that go against the grain to pursue their passion and realize their vision without the constraints of patiently awaiting approval. Perhaps not the most essential queer-based text of the year, but certainly not one that ever deviates from providing an abundance of heart when exploring the themes that inspired it, Happiest Season is simply just a delightful comedy with a scathing edge that makes it a surprisingly moving, and often even quite challenging, attempt at bringing certain issues to the forefront and having some frank conversations, perhaps not through actively evoking the discourse, but contributing to it in a meaningful, forthright manner, which makes a substantial difference when considering how this is still a hot-button issue that still remains quite elusive in mainstream filmmaking.

The film focuses on Abby (Kristen Stewart) and her girlfriend, Harper (Mackenzie Davis), who is about to embark on her annual trip to her family’s home, where she’ll be celebrating Christmas with them. Abby intends to stay behind, with her feelings towards Christmas being quite bittersweet, since the death of her parents a few years before has made her naturally reluctant to embrace the holiday season. However, realizing how difficult this time will be for her, Harper invites her beloved to come spend Christmas with her family. This gives Abby the chance to finally execute a long-gestating plan – she hopes to propose to Harper on Christmas morning, after having gained her father’s blessing and the approval of the rest of the family. The problem is, Harper hasn’t been as honest with her loved ones as she promised, and as far as they know, Abby is just her roommate, tagging along as a way of just distracting from the loneliness she would experience during this period. This sets off a week of hijinks and misadventure, especially when it comes to Harper’s upper-class, incredibly judgmental family, led by patriarch Ted (Victor Garber), who has political aspirations, and Tipper (Mary Steenburgen), who prioritizes the image of her family and their reputations at all costs. Entering into this world is intimidating for the humble Abby, who isn’t quite aware of how these kinds of families operate – but she soon learns exactly how they behave, making it a point to try and fit in, which becomes increasingly difficult, especially with tensions heightening, and the presence of former romantic partners only making it more challenging to hope for a festive season that is anything but easygoing.

It’s a common formula – an outsider is immersed into a particular corner of the world they aren’t entirely familiar with, and have to use their resourcefulness to weasel out of some tricky situations, or else fall victim to the growing chaos around them. Setting these stories at Christmas time gives them an added tension, since the stakes are impossibly high to capture the spirit of the season, which makes them all the more compelling. Happiest Season isn’t the most revolutionary work (outside of its bold choice of theme, as well as the clear intention of not treating the relationship between the two main characters as abnormal or deviant in any way – the tension doesn’t come from their non-adherence to conventions, but the outdated beliefs of those who assert that their lifestyle isn’t normal), but it makes up for its general shortcomings by having an abundance of heart, as well as doing something even more intrepid – it dares to be populated by unlikable characters. The concept of the dysfunctional family is certainly not one that is all that rare to cinema, but when we have the majority of Christmas films centring on the perfect nuclear family, a film like Happiest Season, which is built on their shortcomings, comes across as something of a breath of fresh air, even if its not a new idea. The film pays a lot of attention to how it portrays these characters and the situations they’re in, and while some of them may seem implausible (and almost as if DuVall and co-writer Mary Holland were sampling from a preconceived set of Christmas film conventions), they’re perfectly adequate when taken from the context of the specific story being told, and how the film gives us insights into a very peculiar family dynamic that may not be necessarily welcoming, but still piques our attention enough to want to venture further into this clan of deranged egomaniacs and the passive observer who infiltrates their ranks, and eventually plays an unintentional role in changing their perspective entirely.

When the narrative is slightly weaker, it’s often up to the actors to rectify any problems and make the stories their own – and Happiest Season certainly delivers exceptionally in regards to some terrific performances. No one here is doing revolutionary work, with most of them playing to their strengths and rehashing the same kinds of characters they’re known for playing. The two leads of the film – Kristen Stewart and Mackenzie Davis – are both very good, but it’s clear that Stewart is more at ease with the work she is given to do, playing the part of the outsider Abby with poise and a great amount of warmth and levity that will hopefully silence the decades-long assertion that she’s dour and humourless. Davis is an actress who is steadily rising, and while she may not have reached her full potential yet, there is no doubt that she’s rapidly becoming a very gifted young actress who is well on her way to making an indelible impression. The supporting cast is populated by a wide array of recognizable faces – Aubrey Plaza, who continues to prove herself as one of the most gifted young actresses in alternative cinema, is a scene-stealer as the jaded ex-girlfriend of Davis’ character, whose own past becomes integral to the central tension of the film. Allison Brie is at her most villainous, playing against type as the pernickety older sister, who inherits most of the petty microaggressions displayed by her mother, played by an absolutely delightful Mary Steenburgen. DuVall and Holland don’t just insert characters for the sake of filling in the gaps – they allow each one of them to have their own distinct moments, contributing to a film that is the definition of a true ensemble effort in every way.

Happiest Season belongs to the sub-genre of films that really can only be effective at one particular time of year, since so much of what makes this enjoyable is being surrounded by the Christmas spirit – and one doesn’t even need to adhere to the beliefs to find value in this story, which is more focused on exploring the role of family in how we live our lives, than it is about celebrating the holiday season, which is only a theoretical framework from which this film is built. It’s a very compelling film, but purely on the basis that it has a lot of heart about some issues that wouldn’t be found all that often in the majority of holiday-themed films. Queer themes are not something that cinema has really shown itself to be adverse to over the past few decades, but like the few significant works that burst through the mainstream, this seemed to be a concerted effort to bring these stories out of the independent arthouse, and into the homes of general audiences. It means that some of the discourse in this film is intentionally made to be palatable for a wider viewership, while still avoiding becoming condescending or inappropriately flippant about the issues being discussed. It has an abundance of heart, a terrific control of its humour, and a generally endearing sensibility that works in the context of the film perfectly. It may not be a reinvention of the genre, or even a film that seems to be particularly interested in having too many in-depth conversations, but the fact that it shows itself willing to at least start them is quite admirable, and is just another reason why Happiest Season is the triumphant, instant holiday classic we all need right now.