Single All the Way review: Wildly predictable and exactly what I needed

I believe this is my tenth post in the series of Christmas film reviews, and I really wanted something enjoyable and harmless to watch which wouldn’t tax my poor brain. Single All The Way had been recommended as one such film.

Single All the Way is a classic Christmas romcom – and I mean that as a compliment.

This is friends-to-lovers, fake-dating, return-to-Small-Town™ nonsense, complete with snow, supportive parents, emotional competence, and a man who names and talks to his house plants. Literally the only twist is that the couple are gay, but this is 2025 and it barely counts.

Peter is a softly anxious, chronically unlucky-in-love gay man who lives in LA, works in social media, and runs an Instagram account for his plants. This tells you everything you need to know about him as a person. He is gentle. He is lonely. He is exactly the sort of man who would accidentally fall in love with his best friend and not notice for nine years.

That best friend is Nick.

Nick is hot, kind, quietly successful, beloved by children, dogs, and parents, and generally radiates benevolent Santa energy. He is a TaskRabbit handman, a bestselling children’s book author, and a man who can put up Christmas lights, chop wood, and wear a shaving foam beard without irony. It is frankly offensive that Peter has not clocked this sooner.

Peter initially has a hot doctor boyfriend, which is obviously not going to work out because this is a Christmas film and also because the boyfriend has the narrative depth of an advent calendar. He turns out to be married, to a woman no less, which makes it clear he will not, in fact, be escorting Peter home for Christmas as promised.

Enter the plan.

Peter persuades best friend and housemate Nick to come home for Christmas. The initial idea is that Nick will pretend to be his boyfriend so his lovely, meddling family will stop worrying about him. Nick agrees, despite having planned a quiet staycation, because he is that sort of man. They never really get as far as the pretending bit.

Peter’s family are an unexpected delight.

His mum, Carole, is the wonderful Kathy Najimy from Sister Act and Hocus Pocus. She insists on being called Christmas Carole all December and fills the house with tacky quote signs on every available wall space like she lives in The Range. Everyone hates them. She gives them as gifts. This is elite behaviour.

She is also a genuinely brilliant mum and grandma; warm, supportive, and refreshingly unfrozen of face. The dad is fully on board with Peter’s sexuality and immediately starts campaigning for Nick like a man who knows a good thing when he sees it.

There are sisters. There are children.

There is Jennifer Coolidge as Aunt Sandy, playing what appears to be the only role she has ever played and ever will, namely a slightly tyrannical, deeply chaotic woman who runs a Christmas pageant with the energy of Stifler’s grandma. She is ridiculous, over the top, and dressed in animal print. Of course she is.

Peter is set up by his mother on a blind date with James, a cute ski and spin instructor, and quite possibly the only other gay man in this small New Hampshire town. James is perfectly nice, emotionally mature, and doomed. They go on dates. They buy a Christmas Tree. There is kissing. There is festive chemistry.

Meanwhile Nick is bonding with the family, being subtly heartbroken, and getting quietly jealous while pretending he is absolutely fine.

This film is wildly, aggressively predictable.

You know exactly where this is going within the first ten minutes, and the film makes absolutely no attempt to disguise that.

By the time Nick is putting up the family Christmas lights like a man auditioning for the role of husband, the ending is essentially a formality.

Everyone knows before Peter does.

The parents know. The nieces know. The blind date knows. The audience knows. The only person in the dark is Peter, who has apparently spent nine years mistaking being in love for friendship. Awww.

Even the obstacles are polite. James exists not as a real rival but as a narrative gentleman with cheekbones. He turns up, flirts, quickly clocks the situation, and bows out with grace and a light career pivot. At no point does anyone behave badly, which is nice.

Crucially, by the halfway point, if they did not end up together it would feel like a personal insult.

The predictability stops being a flaw and becomes a requirement. You are not watching to be surprised, you are watching to be reassured. This is not a twist film. This is a fulfilment film. A warm blanket with a plot, which after Oh What Fun and its endurance-test approach to three generations of family trapped together at Christmas, is a genuine relief.

That film made me wary of another multigenerational festive gathering, but Single All the Way is gentler, warmer, and far less irritating. The family here are supportive rather than punishing, meddling rather than cruel, and it almost feels like a place you might actually want to spend Christmas.

The big romantic gesture is not fireworks or a public speech; Nick rents Peter a closed-down shop so he can open a plant store and live the life he actually wants. If that did not get you slightly in the chest, that is between you and your therapist. There is snow. There is kissing. There is a second children’s book that casually reveals they move to New Hampshire together with the dog. After all, there is always call for hot handymen, even in small towns.

Predictable? Completely.

Comforting? Absolutely.

Cheesy? As fuck.

And sometimes that is exactly what you need.

Rating: 8/10. It may not contain a single plot twist, but if you hate this then you have a heart of stone.

If you enjoyed this and you’re feeling generous, you can buy me a cup of tea or a glass of wine – or donate to my houseplant addiction fund – here.

You can also see my Amazon wish list here.