Bad Moms AND Christmas…how could you go wrong? If that’s not a recipe for a mother-effer of a holiday movie, I don’t know what is. So I grabbed four of the worst, most badly-behaved moms I know, packed a box of wine in my friend’s Louie, and headed out to the Lot at Liberty Station to see the show.
Like most of the modern world, I loved the fearless hilarity and fiery spunk of the first Bad Moms. The sarcastic, no f—ks given approach won me over long before they trashed that grocery store.
You’ll find some of that clever, nervy fun in Bad Mom’s Christmas, and plenty of “Ho ho ho-ing” around. But before you watch the moms get drunk in the food court and deck the halls with a stolen Christmas tree from Foot Locker, keep in mind…this is a sequel! You won’t find the same brave novelty of the first film, and things DO get a little sentimental when all of the mothers of the Bad Moms appear and shake up the snow globe.
An untenably funny Christine Baranski plays mom to the Mila Kunis character, bringing more ice to the screen than an arctic glacier. The strangely needy yet endearing Cheryl Hines plays the mom of Kristen Bell, and my favorite—the ageless Susan Sarandon—plays the gambling, hitch-hiking, pot-smoking mom of badass Carla.
A lot of people in our group expressed displeasure that the movie wasn’t as light and funny as the first film, and it does get more serious as the characters explore the relationships with their own moms. (To be honest, I actually found myself enjoying the deeper moments with the moms and it didn’t really bother me too much.)
Was it as funny as the first one? Probably not, but that’s not a terrible thing. You still get to watch the moms twerk with Santa Claus and open up a can of whoop-ass on a shopping mall.
But please. Do yourself a favor. This movie is meant to be enjoyed in person at the theater, with your best girlfriends (preferably decked out in Christmas sweaters, see below) and a glass—nay bottle—of wine. This film, like many things in life, is about the experience…not the details.
Just don’t get carried away and put too much brandy in your eggnog, or you’ll wind up in an uber with a clean up charge on your bill.
(Hallelujah! Holy sh*t! Where’s the Tylenol?)
Thanks for reading!