‘Christmas Eve In Miller’s Point’: Cannes Review

Dir: Tyler Taormina. US. 2024. 106mins

Christmas is more a state of mind than a holiday in filmmaker Tyler Taormina’s third feature, a large ensemble piece in which the yuletide season affects four generations of an Italian-American family in various ways. Generously mixing comedy, nostalgia, pathos and misanthropy, Christmas Eve In Miller’s Point embraces its brood’s rambunctious spirit, resisting the temptation to let any character become the central protagonist. Instead, the focus shifts around the crowded house they all populate as they dig into a lavish meal, open presents and debate what to do now that their mother is growing frail. Some tonal unevenness is, perhaps, inevitable, but the film’s cumulative emotional impact compensates for the occasional misstep. 

The film’s cumulative emotional impact compensates for the occasional misstep

Christmas Eve is Taormina’s first picture to premiere at Cannes, playing in Directors’ Fortnight. (His 2019 debut Ham On Rye bowed in Santa Barbara, and 2022’s Happer’s Comet launched in Berlin.) Among the sprawling cast, Michael Cera (who also serves as a producer) may help court indie crowds. Expect arthouse attention, although streaming platforms will also be an inviting destination.

Taking place in Long Island, New York, this comedy-drama introduces us to the Balsano family, who are once again spending Christmas at their matriarch’s (Mary Reistetter) house. Several generations have converged on the cramped home, among them parents Kathleen (Maria Dizzia) and Lenny (Ben Shenkman), whose teen daughter Emily (Matilda Fleming) longs to escape in order to do something more fun with her friends. Meanwhile, Kathleen and her siblings must make an important decision regarding what to do with the family home in light of their mother’s failing health. Should they sell the house that the Balsanos have owned for decades?

Taormina, who himself grew up on Long Island, makes films in which the contours of contemporary life are familiar and yet there is always something slightly surreal about his worlds, as if viewed from a skewed, alienated outsider perspective. Not surprisingly, then, Christmas Eve tackles the often-hokey holiday genre with an almost quizzical air, presenting viewers with the expected yuletide trappings and atmosphere but undercutting these hallmarks with a bracing tonal chilliness. 

Working with cinematographer Carson Lund (whose feature directorial debut Eephus also screens in Directors’ Fortnight), Taormina has crafted a picture that plays like a hazy memory of a bygone Christmas — one that is inviting while simultaneously feeling distorted and bizarre. Quite cannily, this filmmaker’s semi-autobiographical tale articulates the warmth most would hope to associate with the holidays, yet acknowledges why Christmas can be painful for so many. We are presented with a perfect replica of a glowing Christmas Eve, but the family tensions and strained frivolity are impossible to miss. (The soothing retro pop songs from The Ronettes and Frank Sinatra further underline the tension between the assumed joyousness and the more complicated reality.)

The roving camera captures disparate moments over this long day and night, producing a snapshot of general malaise that is more important than any single character. Tony Savino’s Ray refuses to discuss selling the property — as far as he is concerned, this is their house — while John Trischetti Jr.’s Matthew thinks the family needs to be pragmatic about what could happen to their mother if she fell at home with no one else around to help her. But that disagreement is but one strand of Christmas Eve’s narrative, which also concerns Kathleen’s sadness about how distant her daughter Emily has become. Eventually, Emily will sneak out of the house with her cousin Michelle (Francesca Scorsese), getting together with pals (and potential love interests) for less-staid holiday festivities.

Christmas Eve effectively collects snippets of random family conversation, the little morsels hinting at the buzz and banality of large get-togethers. In-laws, aunts, grandchildren and black sheep all gather around the dinner table, their backstories often a mystery. Taormina does not just conjure up Christmas as an ephemeral collision of trauma and nostalgia, but he also suggests that families are their own form of emotional landmines, shards of shame and love deeply embedded within each room of the family home. 

Sometimes, the picture’s deadpan humour falls flat. (Cera and Gregg Turkington play ineffectual cops who provide wan comic relief.) And some plot digressions are more arresting than others. But the performances are generally quite strong, with Fleming touching as the restless Emily. In a smaller role, Chris Lazzaro nearly steals Christmas Eve as none-too-bright cousin Bruce, who has a big heart and a genuine love for his family and the holidays. Similarly, Taormina has abiding affection for the flawed Balsano clan, who are determined to make it through this Christmas one way or the other.