The writers’ strike has taken its toll on Christmas movies this year. With the lack of Vanessa Hudgens’s’s’s’s options on Netflix, I have been hunting for something that gives me the delicious satisfaction of the Princess Switch series. This year, the hosts of the Thanksgiving Day Parade gushed over the movie Haul Out the Holly, so we put it on our list. Friends, I was not prepared for this Hallmark monstrosity, a movie so unhinged we welcomed the commercial breaks just to take our eyes off it for a moment.
This movie was stressful.
We open our film in a flashback. The daughter of the inventor of the Toaster Strudel, Emily, played by Lacey Chabert, wakes up on Christmas morning and is greeted by her perky, peculiar parents. Mom (Great Value Joan Allen) and Dad (the guy from Love it or List it?) are antsy to get to the neighborhood Christmas Carnival. It is six AM. Emily is bestowed one present, a Polaroid camera, to take pictures at the Christmas Carnival—a core memory in her formative years that I hope she discusses with her therapist. At the carnival, she talks to her bizarre neighbor, the creepy kind of precocious boy. They take a perfect selfie, and you just know this little weirdo is coming back later.
We flash forward to Emily returning home with a stack of empty presents to find her VR headset wearing boyfriend Dan has not gotten her any gifts. She immediately breaks up with him because we have to start the movie. If you wanted conflict, well, that’s the last you’ll see of it. (Team Dan, more to come.) Emily leaves The Big City for her parents’ multimillion dollar, nine bedroom, five-thousand-square-foot home paid for by whatever racketeering operation they have going and—surprise!— they’re moving to Florida. They saddle this poor woman with the responsibility of following the HOA Christmas bonanza home decoration guidelines and jet off. Enter Jared.
The little weirdo has become president of the HOA for Evergreen Lane, and for him, Christmas decor is serious biz. The cul-de-sac is filled with a panoply of neighbors who worship at the altar of Christmas. They rope Emily into all their shenanigans, including something called a snowman tableau. She is repeatedly cited by Jared, who does not tolerate non-compliance. She gives very little resistance to the pressure of the Christmas decorating, and its adjacent group activities, and at the end she has not understood the meaning of Christmas or whatever big city freelance copyeditors are sentenced to do in these movies. She is entirely forgettable as a character because all the others upstage her. No arc, no conflict, no stakes, yes I’ll put a three foot Nutcracker on my porch, as is code. No problem, no problem.
It isn’t the machine gun fire, have-you-ever-heard-humans-talk dialogue, or the impossible characters that incited the roiling anxiety in me. With a different music score, this would be a full-on horror film. The characters are beyond Christmas movie quirky. They are straight up chilling. Leading me to one conclusion: This neighborhood and its residents are a cult.
The Compound
This movie takes place in an isolated cul-de-sac in Utah with bajillion dollar houses and no mention of a town. We’re already at cult status simply by the location. These people either secured the whole neighborhood through the donated life savings of the cult members, or they’re committing money laundering, or both. These houses are too big for these people who never do anything but prepare for Christmas with the kind of fervor that makes you believe that on Christmas Day, at the Christmas Carnival, they will set the tree on fire and sacrifice one of their sons.
The Family
The majority of families depicted have one child, usually a daughter, all around the same age. No teens. No babies. Our heroine, only child. Our love interest, only child. And their behaviors are unsettling. One of the girls frequently holds a doll in scenes like one would a bouquet of flowers. This is not a Barbie doll. This is an imposter brand, the kind you never wanted to get as a kid. My husband explained, “She has to hold a doll so we know she’s a child.” Something horrible is happening to the boys in this neighborhood.
The Leader
Jared, the love interest—a term I’ll use in the loosest sense—is the strangest ranger of all. This is our cult leader in ascent. He’s not charismatic, but he’s authoritative. People don’t question him when he demands mandatory attendance at his white elephant party, in which he gifts a framed photo of himself. He is mostly expressionless, and has an uncanny valley face that seems AI generated and made the reptilian part of my brain alert me to danger. There is nothing remarkable or charming about him. Most days, he walks around with a clipboard issuing decoration citations. Architect, indeed. Jared’s father is not present. I think Jared may have murdered him.
The Informant
Speaking of murder, Ned. Ned remains my personal hero of the film, and I felt safer when he was on screen. He outshines the main characters in every aspect and he has definitely killed someone. He’s so over the top and trying so hard that I believe he’s a Fed. There’s a scene where he and Jared are in the basement hovering over our seated heroine in a position reminiscent of a law enforcement interrogation. He’s done this before. Ned mentions two things nobody bats an eye at. He has nine—NINE—taxidermied reindeer in his garage, and a collection of HAZMAT suits. It’s a cover. He’s seen some shit. I just know it.
The True Believer
Then, there’s Pamela. Pamela has a PhD in arts and crafts. Pamela is vivacious, sporting busy coats with fur collars and dripping in wealth. She lives in a sprawling mansion with her daughter, and her husband is “on the East Coast” for “business.” She is fully and completely engulfed in the Christmas cult. She dominates the cookie baking contest every year, indicated by her framed headshots on the wall in recognition of each win. Pamela’s storyline does not add up, however. She’s lived in the neighborhood for five years, yet Emily has a Polaroid of her from well over fifteen years prior. Then there’s her sham marriage. Pamela’s husband, a store bought Dennis Quaid, is absolutely with his first family and “can’t fly out until Christmas Day.” Pam, baby, he’s never going to leave his wife for you.
The Prodigal Daughter
Then we have our heroine, the perfect mark. She’s been raised in this cult and she tried to escape once, but she’s been drawn back in by her parents. She’s agreeable, and pliant, and faithfully accepts the coercive control of the higher ranking officers in the organization. When she steps slightly out of line, Jared remands her to community service, free labor for the commune. The members have conspired to push her and Jared together romantically, because the leader must take a wife to sustain his power. This has all been orchestrated by her parents, who return from Florida on Christmas morning with one gift wrapped under the tree. Keys to the house they are giving her. The cycle continues.
The Ultimate Glory
What is a cult without recruitment? Not a problem. Evergreen Lane reaches out for new members at various Christmas events. People come from all over to visit the cul-de-sac, entranced by the sights and sounds while blocking driveways with their cars. This movie was so weird I was considering the parking situation as a grounding exercise.
And what is a Christmas cult without Santa? Jared shares with Emily that it has been his dream to be Santa. Not play Santa. Be Santa. Santa is the final authority in this cult, and as luck would have it, Fed Ned has a collection of Santa outfits for Jared to choose from. Jared claims the throne, which I can only imagine has been ripped away from the former cult leader. The poorly adhered beard goes on, and the transformation is complete.
The Inevitable Conclusion
One might think that the globs of chunky white bits coating the blooming hydrangeas and clematis and the spray painted oak leaves are just poor movie making. Not so. It’s always Christmas on Evergreen Lane. Each month, they immolate a neighborhood boy on the tree pyre, then tear down their decorations and start anew. It is never not Christmas. Jared sees you when you’re sleeping. He knows when you’re awake. And if you’re not celebrating the most maximalist way, he will issue you a citation.
When our couple get over their minor disagreement (so minor I forget what it was) and Christmas miracles ensue, the entire town is there, ready, outside Emily’s window, belting “Joy to the World” which is…something. If you were wondering, yes Emily and Jared share one chaste kiss (not under mistletoe, defying custom), an act I resisted with my entire body. They don’t like each other, and that isn’t a problem. This is all in service to the cult.
I predict that when Ned takes the whole operation down, Dan the ex will get a news alert on his phone and recognize it as his ex-girlfriend’s childhood home and breathe a sigh of relief. Dan, you’re a bad gift giver, and a bit of a mediocre dolt, but you dodged a bullet, my friend.
This movie has a sequel. Yes, I’m going to watch it, and you should too. Stretch and hydrate first. Happy Holidays, one and all!
K E Hubbard 
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