Silent Night review: Keira Knightley’s Christmas movie is Richard Curtis meets The Twilight Zone

This bizarre comedy is like Keira Knightley’s way of saying “fuck you” to her traditional fans. Right from the start, Knightley (as wife and mother of three Nell, about to spend Christmas in a holly-festooned mansion with her attractive, sweary, dysfunctional friends) executes her gorgeous goofy smile. But this is Richard Curtis territory, by way of the Twilight Zone.

In 1996 there was a brilliantly dark French film called Will It Snow For Christmas? A mother and her seven children go to bed on Christmas Eve. They never get up. I guess Knightley and first-time director/writer Camille Griffin love this movie.

What gradually becomes clear in Silent Night is that a man-made environmental disaster has released poisons into the atmosphere which, if inhaled, will trigger a slow death. The only protection against pain? A government funded suicide pill.

It’s always a financial risk to disrupt public expectations. Those craving cinematic eggnog may read reviews like this and decide that the entire movie seems terrible. Still, if you prefer subtle black comedies, you’ll find the early scenes frustrating (one-note dialogue makes even competent performers like Lucy Punch and Sope Dirisu look amateurish). Silent Night has something to irritate everyone. Still, viewers willing to be patient will be rewarded.

In the film’s third act, Knightley is wonderful as the surly, self-righteous, angsty Nell, while Matthew Goode (as Nell’s doting, if more loving husband, Simon), is a riot on the lips stiff.

Also delicious: Griffin’s three children, who play the role of Nell and Simon’s potty. Squirrel-eyed Roman Griffin Davis, so intense in Taika Waititi’s Jojo Rabbit, is the eldest Art boy, who goes against his parents’ big holiday plan. Twins Hardy and Gilby Griffin are just as agile as their big brother. Their comedic timing in a scene that involves a lot of commotion over a Last Drink is fabulous.

Which makes it even more annoying when their mother embarks on an ending that can only be described as a dream come true for climate deniers, anti-vaxxers, and anyone else who thinks scientists and governments work hand in hand. in hand to fool us all. In the film’s final third, the mischievous and cunning Griffin makes good use of what is clearly a small budget. As a filmmaker, she has enormous potential. Its climax, however, is silent but deadly and leaves a bad smell.

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