Snowblown: Lacey Chabert Lives Out a Fantasy More Suited for a Bodice-Ripping Romance Novel Than a Would-Be Hallmark Movie in Hot Frosty

Perhaps now more than ever, it’s a woman’s belief that the only way to gain access to a truly desirable (read: non-assholish) man is via fantasy. Whether that’s through the fantasies concocted in her head or the ones delivered by the likes of Julia Quinn/Shonda Rhimes, the point is that few hetero women have much faith in the flesh-and-blood men “available” to them (hear: “Slim Pickins” by Sabrina Carpenter). Thus, they retreat into something like Russell Hainline’s Hot Frosty, directed by Jerry Ciccoritti, who previously worked with Dustin Milligan on various episodes of Schitt’s Creek).

Hainline’s script (or “fairy tale,” if you prefer) builds on his ever-mounting arsenal of other holiday TV movies, including In Merry Measure, The Santa Summit and The Santa Class. Because, despite looking like the type of bearded, long-haired man you would see hanging out at The Levee circa 2014, Hainline is clearly attuned to “giving women what they want.” Or at least parodying the idea of what men think they want. Which is, for all intents and purposes, a brainless man molded out of clay. Though, in this instance, snow.

As is expected with most “magic” in Netflix Christmas movies trying to be like Hallmark Christmas movies, nothing about it is really explained, so much as shrugged off casually with a few lines. One of the most absurd being toward the end of the movie, when Kathy Barrett (Lacey Chabert) asks all the townspeople who have gathered at her “café” (called, what else, Kathy’s Kafé) to celebrate Christmas, “So you all…you just buy that he’s a snowman?” Nicole (Sarah DeSouza-Coelho), the only waitress who appears to work at Kathy’s Kafé, “explains” their willingness to believe by announcing, “It’s Christmas.” As though the holiday can account for all anomalies, no matter how logic-defying. One of Kathy’s neighbors and long-time friends, Jane Miller (Lauren Holly, who inexplicably has a role in this movie), also shrugs and nods as though to say, “Why not?”

Echoing that sentiment is Mel (Sherry Miller), the owner of the local second-hand clothing store, Reclaimed Rags. Although Kathy might have still been reluctant to believe “Jack Snowman’s” (Dustin Milligan) claims that he, er, came to life pretty much solely because she wrapped a scarf around his neck (given to her by Mel as a gift the same night it happened), all it takes to fully convince her is Mel asking, “A man that sweet’s just gotta be magic, don’t you think?”

And yes, the truth is, that’s the only “logical” explanation for why a man would be “sweet” without an ulterior motive or the inevitable propensity for causing disappointment and heartbreak. Which is, in part, why one can’t completely begrudge Hot Frosty—at least not for that element of it. Because, honestly, Mel isn’t wrong. What/who is wrong, however, is the town sheriff, Nathaniel Hunter (Craig Robinson), whose presence in this narrative turns out to be the most affronting thing about it. To (barely) mitigate his vexing, hyper-by-the-book nature is his deputy, Ed Schatz (Joe Lo Truglio, who, surprisingly, didn’t co-star with Robinson in Hot Tub Time Machine). The last name, clearly, is a har-har-har type of flourish on Hainline’s part.

In any case, it is Ed’s “gentle touch” that inspires Jack to come to him for advice about how to ask Kathy out on a date. Particularly since she’s made it known multiple times that she’s emotionally (and physically) “closed for business.” Not just because her husband, Paul, recently died of cancer, but because she hasn’t yet gotten to a place where she feels like she loves herself without him. Hence, the heavy-handed imagery of all the ways in which Kathy doesn’t take care of herself (e.g., not repairing the heat in her house, or the broken step on her staircase, or the leak in her ceiling). Which is, of course, why the “magic” materialization of Jack is exactly what she needs without, apparently, wanting to admit how glorious it is to have a hot ex-snowman with practically no brain around to fix everything, including two different kinds of plumbing (wink, wink). It is, of course, the stuff of porn. Or rather, what is billed as “female porn.” A.k.a. when a hot guy that’s presumably good in bed is actually emotionally intuitive and open-minded.

And though, theoretically, the biggest obstacle to their romance should be the fact that he gets burning hot and sweats/melts practically to death every time he’s in an indoor area that’s too stuffy/well-heated, the real hurdle is the aforementioned extra annoying Sheriff Hunter, who is obsessed with finding the culprit that not only broke the window to Mel’s Reclaimed Rags, but also went streaking the same night and was clocked by an elderly couple named Ethel (Helene Lohan Cameron) and Mortimer (Allan Royal). Though Ethel, like most of the older women in town, has no problem seeing in Jack in a state of undress.

In any event, after this so-called crime spree, Sheriff Hunter is fixated on figuring out who did it, ergo Kathy’s extreme protectiveness of Jack, constantly telling him to just stay at her house and “lay low.” Granted, her “subconscious” might also be insisting that it would be nice to have a sex slave/handyman under lock and key. Not to mention someone who’s ultra-malleable brain can memorize how to make any recipe from the TV cooking shows they watch (again, it’s all part of the “magic”).

Still, Jack seems more focused on not knowing how much time he actually has left in a chiseled human body, therefore tells Kathy that he wants to make the most of it while he can—which evidently means jumping into a monogamous relationship. Because, yes, this is a “fairy tale” (a.k.a. the premise to a bodice-ripping romance novel). One that even Kathy can’t fully get on board with until the rest of the town—named, obviously, Hope Springs—does as well. This includes Sheriff Hunter, who remains dead set on arresting Jack once he finds proof he was the guilty party (via some ATM camera footage conveniently pointed right at the town square)…even though it’s Christmas Eve.

When Kathy declares, “He’s different from us, Nate” by way of an excuse for his behavior, Nicole steps forward and asks, “What do you mean ‘different’?” Dottie (Katy Mixon Greer), the town doctor, comes forward and announces, “He’s a snowman that magically came to life.” After all, she was the second person to realize this about Jack and instantly accepted it as the truth—far more than Kathy was willing to.

Predictably, however, Kathy’s heart has melted (yes, that’s a snowman pun) by the final scenes of the movie. Though mainly because she’s at risk of losing him forever—a cruel twist of fate for someone who already lost their husband to cancer. Thus, all it takes to miraculously revive him and turn him human is a Sleeping Beauty-inspired kiss with the gender reversed. Then, all at once, it’s happily ever after on overdrive, with the two spending Christmas Day together and Kathy having the financial wherewithal to buy them a trip to Hawaii as a gift (calling back a moment earlier in the movie when Jack said he wanted to go). On second thought, that might be the most unbelievable thing of all about Hot Frosty. We’re talking Carrie Bradshaw affording a closetful of Manolos and Jimmys on her weekly column salary unbelievable.

The only thing missing, of course, is the “sex with a snowman” scenes—hence, part of why it would be better as a romance novel than a “fairy tale.” Besides, as Britney Spears once said, “I don’t believe in fairy tales.” Least of all ones where a man can’t even start out as a human anymore in order for his romantic qualities to be plausible. Then again, there is that old chestnut about kissing a frog to turn him into a prince…which still seems somehow more credible than putting a scarf around a snowman to turn him into a moldable man. One imagines that applies to his nether regions as well.

Genna Rivieccio http://culledculture.com

Genna Rivieccio writes for myriad blogs, mainly this one, The Burning Bush, Missing A Dick, The Airship and Meditations on Misery.

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