I am convinced that The Knight Before Christmas is a film that was created in reverse.
Someone in a Netflix meeting said ‘How about The Knight Before Christmas?!’ and everyone nodded like it was a great idea because these are the same people who thought it was worth making I Believe In Santa, and then a script was assembled around that weak pun like a structure with no load-bearing walls.
Does it make sense? Not really.
Does it offend me? Also no.
Did it tickle my biscuits? Sadly, not even a little bit.
This is Netflix Christmas film review number… I don’t know. I’ve lost count. And at this point I feel like I am no longer reviewing individual films. I am reviewing the same damn film over, and over, and over again.
The Netflix Christmas Cinematic Universe template strikes again
The Knight Before Christmas is not a standalone story. You could swap large chunks of this with Falling for Christmas, Hot Frosty, The Princess Switch, or literally anything where a woman in a cashmere coat meets a man she wouldn’t kick out of bed, and I promise you that no one would notice.
We have:
- A small, snowy town with an absolutely unhinged decorating budget, which is almost definitely a money laundering operation
- A heroine with dead parents who cannot open a box of Christmas decorations until the correct man arrives
- A child who wants a boyfriend for their adult female relative instead of, I don’t know, Lego for Christmas
- A hot man with no job, no address, no admin responsibilities and unlimited emotional availability who has to move in, immediately, for reasons (and gets topless)
- A festive charity event that absolutely cannot be breaking even
- An evil ex who broke our heroine’s heart and whose sole narrative purpose is to be smug in a diner and donate his wardrobe to the romantic lead.
It’s not a film. It’s formulaic beige content in a Christmas hat which could be written by Chat GPT in less than ten minutes.
The Knight’s quest is… to get laid.
The entire premise of this film hinges on a medieval knight – Cole – meeting an old crone in the woods of Norwich, England, in the year 1334 and being sent on a ‘quest’ to become a real knight.
What is this quest, you ask?
Is it bravery? Honour? Saving lives? Personal growth?
No.
It’s… getting a girlfriend in America in 2019.
He saves children from an icy river. Not the quest.
He stops a pickpocket. Not the quest.
He’s polite, kind, heroic, and emotionally intelligent. Still not the quest.
The quest turns out to be snogging Vanessa Hudgens.
Pretty bleak, if you think about it for more than twelve seconds. Very funny if you don’t.
Here’s the thing; this film is fine.
Perfectly inoffensive. Mildly cosy. Occasionally charming.
Vanessa Hudgens is doing her thing (and not, thankfully, a British accent). The knight accepts fridges, cars, and policing careers with alarming ease. No one asks about visas, money, or National Insurance numbers.
I wasn’t angry.
I wasn’t delighted.
I didn’t shout at the TV.
I didn’t text anyone.
It just… happened.
This film passed through my life like a wafting scented candle.
I’ve watched too many of these now.
I’ve seen behind the curtain now. I can feel the beats coming.
- Here comes the random chance meeting with the ex!
- Here comes the mild peril (in this case, missing child)!
- Here comes the almost-kiss interruption!
- Here comes the successful event, we were worried they wouldn’t pull it off!
- Here comes the declaration of love!
The Knight Before Christmas didn’t fail. It did exactly what it was designed to do. The problem is that I can now see the scaffolding, and there’s not a great deal behind it aside from a man with nice hair and teeth, a woman with some festive dresses, and a bit of emotionally airbrushed dialogue.
Final verdict
Rating: 5/10. It was fine, albeit competently beige. Like a brown bread cheese sandwich.
He got the girl. She got the guy. The horse made it through time. Christmas.
I’m watching a horror film tonight to give my poor brain some time off.
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.