‘On The Ninth Day of Christmas, My True Love Gave To Me…Elf’ (2003)
Years from now, your children’s children will still be talking about Elf. An 87-year-old Will Ferrell will make yearly appearances on CBS wearing a reindeer-embroidered cardigan to explain once again why, of all his comic creations, Buddy The Elf is the one that has come to define his career. Ask anyone under the age of 40 what the first film they put on over Christmas is, and the answer will most likely be Jon Favreau’s Elf.
It is a film of miraculous balances. There is an intelligent, skeptical arch-humour running through it all, but it’s never cynical. The spirit of Christmas cheer is wrapped around everything, but it is sincere and genuinely heartfelt, not cloying and mawkish. It is staggeringly well cast. The joyless reality of a businesslike Holiday Season free of magic has never been so well personified than in the knuckle-face of James Caan. As Buddy’s adoptive father, Bob Newhart is marvellous. His droll, distinctive voice-over conjures up memories of his famous monologues from the Mad Men-era, which inform Elf’s vision of New York and intensifies its timeless quality.
There are lovely touches everywhere – I love the fact that Santa’s elves hand-make Etch-a-Sketches and Monopoly board games – but the star on this Christmas tree is Will Ferrell, whose sweet innocence, relentless cheer and ability to perform 20 second-long Coke-burps have made Buddy one of the greatest cultural creations of the last 15 years.
With each year, and with each viewing, you discover something new and wonderful, like this line when James Caan has Buddy sent to the subterranean sorting office: ‘This place reminds me of Santa’s Workshop, except it smells like mushrooms and everyone looks like they want to hurt me.’
