Come back Tim Allen, all is forgiven!
A formulaic "Holiday" movie that has something for nobody, Fred Claus is the nadir of Hollywood's ongoing crusade to exploit Christmas while backing away from whatever the heck it's supposed to be about. (What can you say about a movie that conspicuously erases the line "Christ our Saviour is born" from an otherwise reverent rendition of Silent Night by Sinead O'Connor?)
It is probably the weirdest re-imagining of the St. Nick story since Pia Zadora played an alien child in Santa Claus Conquers The Martians -- though that movie had a lot more warmth.
And it represents the worst waste of A-list acting talent (Paul Giamatti, Kevin Spacey, Miranda Richardson, Rachel Weisz, Kathy Bates) of any recent film not directed by Michael Bay.
Apparently unaware that Vince Vaughn might scare children, director David Dobkin reunites here with his Wedding Crashers star to produce a giant lump of coal about a Santa sibling with "issues." It begins in the 13th century with the birth of a chubby baby whose first words are "Ho ho ho" (rapper Ludacris is in this movie, but he doesn't get to deliver that line).
Older brother Fred does his best to love the little guy, but soon tires of coming up short in the "good" department and swears enmity after little Nicky chops down Fred's favourite tree to decorate the hut.
Flash ahead 800 years (inexplicably) and everybody's still alive. Fred is Vaughn, Nick has grown up to be Paul Giamatti and mom and dad are still Kathy Bates and Barry Levinson. Fred is a "repo man" in Chicago. The very antithesis of his brother, he even passes himself off as a street Santa to cheat enough money for a business scheme. He's also thoughtless with his girlfriend (Weisz).
In jail over the fake-Santa business, he phones the North Pole to get his hated brother to bail him out. The bail and investment money are duly promised, on the proviso that Vince head North and work it off.
There we find that Santa's workshop is apparently owned by a corporation and that Santa has to answer to an anal-retentive efficiency expert (Spacey) who's looking for a reason to fire him. What this corporation is, and why its board is unhappy that business is up is never answered.
The point of the film is for the "bad boy" to shake up Christmas, and the writers come up short of ways to make this happen (there's not one but two rock 'n' roll dance scenes -- you know how these kids today love Elvis). There's also a knockdown fight with the Workshop's elf DJ Donnie (digitally "downsized" and played by the aforementioned Ludacris) over his refusal to play anything other than Here Comes Santa Claus.
Fun fact (more fun than the movie anyway): Ludacris and Doris Day "duet" on Here Comes Santa Claus.
Fun fact #2: Though Santa is associated with Coke (they didn't invent the red suit, but certainly contemporized his look in the '30s), Fred drives his reindeer through a Pepsi sign. Apparently, Coke wouldn't play along with this horrible film.
In the end, everybody learns a valuable lesson, that there really aren't any "naughty" children, not even that little Saddam Hussein kid. Or something.
(This film is rated PG)
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