In 2006, Tim Allen returned with The Santa Clause 3: The Escape Clause, a film that makes me wonder if there really is something wrong with me. Though this one was universally despised at the time, it’s my favourite and the most consistently entertaining entry of the series. Martin Short as villainous Jack Frost gives the franchise a serious shot in the arm, completely stealing the show. Your enjoyment of this one will likely rest on your tolerance for Short dialling his singing, dancing, O.T.T. one-man-show up to eleven. For years, I saw his grinning face leering from this film’s DVD cover and convinced myself that Short’s flamboyance would make this unbearable. So, imagine my surprise when I wind up loving it for the very reasons I thought I’d hate it. It’s possible my head is still in a strange place due to my recent unfortunate family tragedy business but this one makes me feel incredibly happy today.
Following part 3, Mitchell’s Mrs Claus/Carol is now preggers, loving life at the North Pole but suffering the baby blues, so hints to Santa/Scott that she misses having her non-Elfin family about. So, Santa hatches a ploy to bring his in-laws over for Christmas but, desperate to keep his operation a secret, ‘disguises’ the Pole as Canada in the hopes they won’t notice the difference. It’s such a dumb idea but I love that the film commits and just asks us to go with it. It helps that Carol’s father is played by the wonderfully acerbic Alan Arkin, marching around, finding fault in every little thing, but not once realising he’s actually in Santa’s grotto. I mean, why would you?
While Scott’s distracted by all this familial pressure, creepy Jack Frost makes his power play. He’s fed up being less famous than Santa and decides to treacherously annex the jolly old soul’s operation to get the sweet recognition he thinks he deserves. He sneakily plots to have Santa inadvertently invoke the titular “Escape Clause”, which has something to do with holding a magic snowglobe and wishing he’d never been Santa. Cue lots of scheming, sabotage, cackling and bonus Martin Short singing and dancing.
Brilliantly, this involves time travel, blasting Scott and Jack back to that pivotal scene in part one where the previous Santa fell off the roof. The fun really begins when Jack steals Scott’s place and p bastardises Christmas, overhauling it with lots of un-jolly, decidedly Trump-ian concepts, like turning the North Pole into an expensive tourist attraction and having parents stump pay to get their unruly offspring on the Nice List.
Short plays this sneaky git excellently, dressed like a frosty Liberace and doing a full-on song and dance sequence just because. It sounds kitsch and awful but Short somehow manages to make it fun. Though perfectly fine, the jokey bits with Santa doing the awkward Meet the Parents thing feel quite dull in comparison.
The sumptuous North Pole set is also a thing of beauty, looking less like a shiny CGI mess and more like something lavish and gorgeous painstakingly built for a Disneyland attraction. Lembeck’s film also gets bonus points for rounding off the trilogy with an extra cheesy happy ending, where the key to saving the day is nothing more than a nice warm hug. This is the kind of film I need today…
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