Some people find the holidays magical. I find them claustrophobic. The lights, the music, the manic smiles—it’s all a performance with too much sugar and not enough truth. So, instead of pretending to be merry, I figured I’d talk about the only two holiday films that don’t make me want to throw myself into traffic.
I’ve never been much of a holiday person. Too many seasons spent alone will do that to you. So instead of pretending to love the jingling, the fake smiles, and the forced joy, I figured I’d talk about the two holiday films that don’t make me want to claw my eyes out.
To keep things even, I’ve split them into two categories: one live-action, one animated.
Let’s start with Hogfather, the dark fantasy comedy set in Terry Pratchett’s Discworld, specifically the glorious cesspit known as Ankh-Morpork: the twin city of proud Ankh and pestilent Morpork. It’s the biggest, strangest, and most alive city on Discworld, and somehow it feels more real than anywhere on Earth during December.
Released in 2006 for Sky1, the film follows Susan Sto Helit, granddaughter of Death. Her mission: to figure out why Grandpa Reaper has suddenly decided to play Santa Claus—or rather, the Hogfather, Discworld’s festive deity of winter’s end.
Behind the chaos lurk the Auditors of Reality, celestial bureaucrats who’ve decided belief itself is too messy for the universe. Their plan: erase faith in “the Fat Man” and freeze time forever. No belief, no sunrise. Simple.
The story weaves through the cracked logic of Jonathan Teatime, a soft-spoken but deranged assassin trained by the Guild of Ankh-Morpork, hired to “inhume” the Hogfather, think kill Santa but with more teeth and less sanity.
Meanwhile, Death and his assistant Albert do their best to keep the spirit of belief alive, Death awkwardly playing stand-in for the jolly old man while Susan races to restore order to a world that never had much of it.
Hogfather has become my annual ritual: a crooked, comfortingly cynical reminder that belief, absurd as it is, still matters. It’s the only Christmas story where Death himself delivers gifts, and somehow it feels more human for it.
My other go-to holiday film is 2010’s The Disappearance of Haruhi Suzumiya, based on the novel of the same name. Think It’s a Wonderful Life, but instead of wishing he’d never been born, Kyon makes the mistake of wishing for “a normal life.”
And that’s the tragedy of it. In trying to escape the chaos of his days with the SOS Brigade—officially “Spreading Excitement all Over the World with Haruhi Suzumiya”—Kyon erases the very madness that made life worth enduring.
For the uninitiated, the Haruhi series follows Kyon, the exhausted straight man caught in the orbit of Haruhi Suzumiya, an unhinged high-school girl who only wants to meet aliens, time travelers, and espers. And somehow, she does.
When Kyon wishes for normalcy, all of it disappears.
No Haruhi.
No alien AI Yuki Nagato.
No time traveler Mikuru Asahina.
No esper Itsuki Koizumi.
Just silence where the madness used to be.
The first act explores that emptiness; the rest is Kyon’s desperate search to bring Haruhi back—to make her remember, and to reclaim the world that used to infuriate him.
By the end, Crispin Freeman voices two Kyons: one who remembers, and one who got his dull “normal life.” It’s a quiet, painful split—like watching two versions of yourself argue over the value of chaos.
Between Hogfather and The Disappearance of Haruhi Suzumiya, I can’t think of any other holiday films that hit that balance of absurdity and sincerity—depth without Hallmark sugar, myth without schmaltz. Everything else feels like cinematic junk food: all frosting, no turkey.
There are a few other options if you want to punish yourself like Love Hina: Christmas Movie but I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy, If you actually like Love Hina…Michael Jordan said it best “Stop It, Get Some Help”
Sure, Love Hina gave us the term “Ara Ara,” but the only way I’m watching that again is through some kind of Ludovico torture straight out of A Clockwork Orange, eyelids clamped open while Jingle Bells plays on loop.