Bad Santa 2

2003’s Bad Santa was cringe comedy at its most cringeworthy, a “feel-bad” movie that not-so-facetiously embodied the term. Its humor lay in the vulgarity clashing with family-friendly holiday aesthetic, but it really landed because there was a real desperation underneath. For all the laughs (and there were plenty), the movie never let you forget that Billy Bob Thornton’s mall Santa thief was a pathetic alcoholic mess, and the not-all-there kid he befriends (Brett Kelly) a heartbreakingly sad case.

Thirteen years later, the envelope for R-rated comedy has been pushed further and further, to the point where little of what happens in the film would be truly shocking today. So, the belated sequel ups its game to keep up with the times. The dirty gags are grosser and more pronounced. The “horrible” jokes and un-P.C. barbs are more in-your-face about it. The raunchy sex, while showing little skin, is more explicit.

Only this time, it’s about as real as a pre-lit plastic tree. Thornton’s protagonist is practically a living cartoon, never really impaired by the gallons of booze he downs unless the joke calls for it. He, as well as his criminal co-conspirators (Tony Cox as his dwarf partner, Kathy Bates as his rotten mother), are less detestable human beings than an artificial sort of nasty for comedy’s sake.

As the film opens, life has not improved for drunken lowlife Willie Soke (Thornton) since last time. His mother and his recently-paroled ex-partner manage to lure him to Chicago to participate in their latest scheme: working as bell-ringing Santas for a charity in order to rob it during a concert on Christmas Eve. Willie’s reluctant at first (and that’s an understatement), but through planning the job and the spirit of the season, he starts to reconnect with his family, real or surrogate.

I’m not exactly kidding about that schmaltzy stuff. The original went very light on the sentiment, and what bit it had only highlighted the contrast with the dark and dirty. But this time, the film tries to sincerely squeeze some unironic holiday cheer into the mix, and presents the closest thing to a heartfelt ending a movie like this could possibly get. And it’s the fakest thing in the entire picture, which is really saying something in a movie where the main players are basically cartoon characters.

Phoniness aside, it’s mostly funny in a lowbrow cartoonish way. The cast plays off each other well and is visibly having a good time letting loose (especially Bates), even though the film's idea of “loose” isn’t that outrageous in 2016. The only exception is Kelly, who comes off like a Z-grade knockoff of Zach Galifianakis in The Hangover. His severe social ineptitude was hilarious (if a little painful) as a kid, but it’s just grating and a little uncomfortable (not in a funny way) from an adult. 

Bad Santa still endures as a demented December classic for a certain audience (I count myself among them). Bad Santa 2 is about as memorable and special as a chocolate Santa from a gas station. But, a chocolate Santa is still enjoyable enough while you're consuming it.