The Christmas scare fest continues with this, much better entry.
This movie is billed as an apocalyptic black comedy, which is right enough, albeit it isn't all that funny despite its considerably talented cast. Of course, it can only be so funny, because the considerably talented is playing a bunch of posh twats. And they have to be posh twats or the plot doesn't work. And the plot is the real star here, and you won't know just how much that is the case until the very last moments. It starts simply enough with old friends gathering at a fancy estate to celebrate Christmas. They are hosted by Nell and Simon and their three kids, the older one of whom, Art, is essentially the soul of the movie. As the night progresses, the dark undertones of it slowly come through to the forefront as you realize that this is, in fact, a very unusual celebration. As in the last ever celebration. A toxic cloud is heading their way, and all English citizens (and only citizens) have been given an easy way out, an at-home suicide kit - a new definition of Brexit. And because these are all a very specific type of people - soft, government-trusting, etc. - they are agree to do it. All except for Art, who has his qualms. Who dares to question the system, the absence of options, the unfairness of it all, etc. Sometimes it takes a child to point and say,"The emperor has no clothes." Only in this case, pointing and saying such things is a matter of life and death. Yes, you have to spend some time with a bunch of annoying characters, but the final blow of the movie gives it the poignancy to make it all worthwhile. And, in fact, quite good.
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