Describing “The Merry Gentlemen” as “The Full Monty” meets a Hallmark Christmas-themed movie might be overselling the goods. However, that’s basically the pitch for this feature, in which a big-city dancer returns to her small town to save her parents’ concert venue by making big groups wear shirts on stage. However, director Peter Sullivan and writer/co-star Marla Sokoloff’s take on the Netflix Holiday Cinematic Universe is uninventive, uninspired, and presented with a remarkably sloppy cover. Not only does the story fail in trying to find its footing after a good premiere, but some of the more cost-conscious aspects detract from the picture’s otherwise meaningful and understated sentiment.
30-year-old single Ashley (Britt Robertson) is living the dream, high-kicking, dancing in The Jingle Belles Christmas Revue and recovering from performances in her picturesque New York City apartment. However, lately she has felt out of sync with the rest of the company. Just when a new member joins the band, Ashley is called into her boss’s office and unceremoniously left, as she plainly puts it, due to her age. Finding herself submerged while very young and desperate to recharge, Ashley returns to her vacation home at snow-covered Sycamore Creek, which is located in an unspecified Midwestern state by way of a poorly concealed backcountry in Burbank.
Ashley’s arrival is warmly welcomed throughout town, from her older sister Mary’s (Sokolow) greasy spoon restaurant to the live music bar The Rhythm Room, where she clumsily juggles the life of suave carpenter Luke (Chad Michael Murray). The hole-in-the-wall, owned by Ashley’s big-hearted parents Stan (Michael Gross) and Lily (Beth Broderick), once hosted rock ‘n’ rolls and royalty (a clever nod to “The Princess Switch”). However, it is now home to Danny (Maxwell Caulfield) and a pile of overdue and comically stamped bills. Facing eviction and $30,000 in debt, Ashley launches an all-male revue to save the establishment, enlisting the help of the only local men she knows: Mary’s husband Rodger (Mark Anthony Samuel), bartender Troy (Colt Prattis) and Luke, who can’t make it. Resist those in need, especially Ashley.
At the expense of the narrative, the film doesn’t stray too far from the safe confines of outdated formulas, as a city dweller finds love in a small town and a workaholic is reprimanded for choosing a career over love. These filmmakers need to step up their efforts if they want to survive alongside smarter shared universe titles like “A Castle For Christmas” and more recently “Hot Frosty.” Confounding elements abound in the picture, dealing mostly with behaviors and attitudes of characters that either strain credulity (such as the image of Santa that persists after bar closing time) or lead to more questions than answers. Why would Mary hide her dating past with a stripper from Rodger, when he’s more than willing to take his shirt off in front of a group of screaming women?
Social media exists in this world, as TikTok is mentioned in an early scene, but no one ever uses it to help fill the club with sponsors. Ashley’s dancing career would certainly have ensured that she would have a healthy account and fans. Instead, she and Mary distributed flyers in the town square and waited for reporters to pick up their story. That’s fine for a movie set before the invention of smartphones, but not for one set in this technology-rich era. Additionally, it’s odd that the film goes to great lengths to be so heteronormative, as no male patrons are shown attending these events (except for the lone man who works the audio and video board). It doesn’t care about potential LGBTQ+ audiences watching, when it could have taken the opportunity to be as progressive and inclusive as others in the growing Netflix Holiday Cinematic Universe (“Single All the Way” and “Falling For Christmas”).
Each of the routines is given an aesthetic identity, with Sullivan leading a chorus of complex choreography, saturated stage lighting, music video style editing and costumes that range from a construction worker to a Chippendale dancer. Newbies show off their six-pack as their body rolls to a powerfully generic soundtrack (interestingly, all licensed from the production company’s own portfolio of music artists). However, these numbers feel like reductive and forgettable repetitions of those from the movie Magic Mike. It might make elderly audiences blush, but only if their relatives are present.
There are highlights. Sullivan and Sokoloff pay tribute to their cinematic inspirations in the first montage, showing the men’s infectious love of dance that carries over into their daily lives — cooking on the grill, stocking the toolbox, making cocktails. Strong anti-corporate messages are hidden in the margins, from Mary’s motivation to buy dinner to the fight to keep the place from being taken over by the juice bar. Lens flares focus viewers into the psyches of the characters, whether it’s when our heroine experiences an epiphany or when the emotional drive of the narrative escalates.
Group members upload the defective item as much as they can. Robertson makes a great leading lady, delivering slapstick moves as competently as she reaches for vulnerability to make her heroine sympathetic. Murray, of course, is charming, adding verve and verve to the proceedings. When it comes to third-tier supporting players, Caulfield is a solid choice, his presence reinforcing the theme of reinvention. After all, he played a bookish nerd turned biker in Grease 2, and the charismatic pop star Rex Manning in Empire Records. And here he steals the spotlight.
The sentiment surrounding women discovering a hidden reservoir of resilience, perseverance, and success in their second-life career choices is certainly encouraging—perhaps something Sokolow herself has experienced in blending acting with her work behind the camera, writing and directing other films. However, the predictable climatic conflict undermines the previously laid foundation for these feminist notions, placing a finer point on romance rather than self-esteem. If the filmmakers had gone from the predictable to the unexpected, this holiday romp would have been a lot funnier and brighter.