The Merry Gentleman begins with our heroine Ashley, a dancer in her mid-thirties, being fired from her Broadway job for the crime of being too old. At thirty-five, maybe younger. Already we know this film hates women.
So Ashley flees New York and heads home to Sycamore Creek, a Small Town™, population: her family, horny middle age ladies, and one brooding handyman called Luke. Her parents run a failing bar called The Rhythm Room, which although once a popular destination is now hanging on by a financial thread.
Ashley immediately bumps into Luke, a rugged and mysterious carpenter/handyman who is annoying – her words – and who is roughly ten years older than her, which everyone in town – including her mum and dad, and her sister – seems to think is charming instead of a walking red flag. Ashley finds him irritating, which of course means they’ll definitely kiss in exactly 39 minutes.
NB it was around 20 minutes before he got his shirt off, for reasons. There is a lot of this to follow.
The bar is dying, long live the bar
The bar is on the verge of being taken over because it needs $30,000 by January. Ashley’s solution? Why, a male strip show, naturally! Because nothing fixes long-term financial instability like a troupe of reluctant middle-aged men stripping for a maximum audience of fifteen women.
Ashley ropes Luke and two other random men – her brother-in-law and one who appeared with no introduction and no explanation (or maybe I was pouring a glass of wine IDK), into forming The Merry Gentlemen. A training montage ensues that is so awkward it’s like staring into the sun. There is hip thrusting. There is shirt removal. There are high-vis vests. The thirsty ladies of Sycamore Creek LOVE IT.
The bar makes $2,200. in one night! Only $27,800 to go! Easy!
Drama! Injury! Peril! (Sort of)
Just as things are going well, one of the dancers – bro-in-law Roger – slips on some ice and injures himself. This is pitched as a catastrophic blow to their fundraising efforts, which… ok.
A pub regular of advancing years volunteers to join the troupe, because apparently anyone can jump onstage and strip if the spirit of Christmas moves them. He is wildly popular with the older ladies. Ashley is suddenly training four men, all of whom seem committed to making this the weirdest Chippendales tribute act in North America; Tragic Mike, maybe.
The romance no one is rooting for
Meanwhile, Ashley and Luke are having moments. She visits his carpentry workshop to deliver his lunch; did I mention her sister works in the diner? Classic Christmas movie small town job there. He gives her a tacky necklace. They slow-dance. They snog. Her hair still looks like a wig that may or may not contain secrets.
This is all going fine until she gets a call from her old theatre: they want her back with a raise and a three-year contract! Her dream job! BUT: the Christmas Day show needs her. Who’s going to the theatre on Christmas Day? Who the hell knows.
Rather than being stoked for her, Luke reacts to this information with the emotional maturity of a damp tissue.
He sulks. He guilt-trips. He accuses her of ‘showing her true colours’. Which, to be clear, are: having a career and not wanting to stay in a town with a population of 47 mostly pervy ladies to be an unpaid choreographer to an awkward bunch of middle aged men with their tops off.
Ashley decides (correctly) to leave, back to the life she has worked her whole life to build. Luke responds (incorrectly) by stropping off.
The Triumphant Return of… No Feminism
Ashley leaves for New York.
But wait.
No she doesn’t.
Because OF COURSE she turns up back at the bar on Christmas Eve! Joining the troupe just in time for the final performance! Abandoning her entire career to stay with a man she met one week ago who has spent 40% of the film pouting!
There is more dancing (bad). More gyrating (worse). And more stripping (the worst).
They reach the $30,000 goal, which feels oddly hollow. Her parents’ livelihood is saved, but at what cost? WHAT COST, ASHLEY?
The evil landlady appears on Christmas Day to pick up the money, which is not how tenancy law works in any jurisdiction, but sure.
Then Ashley and Bastard Luke go out, have a chat, and she delivers the line that kills feminism for good which goes something like:
“My whole life I wanted to be on stage, but now I realise that’s silly. I want to be surrounded by people I love.”
Girl. GIRL. PLEASE.
They kiss, hand in hand, and the film ends with no discussion of:
- her job
- the tenancy agreement on her flat in NYC
- her future income
- the age gap or their blatant incompatibilities
- his massive red flags
She is presumably moving into his draughty woodshed to live on vibes and salads from her sisters’ diner.
Final verdict
This film was not as bad as I Believe in Santa, but it absolutely committed murder on the concept of female ambition. I would rather sit through Hot Frosty four more times than show this to my kids.
Rating: 4/10 as a Christmas film, 0/10 as a feminist text
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Loved most of your review. You’re a talented writer but your age gap bias is offputting. I’m 12 years older than my husband and we are so blissfully married we make everyone around us sick with our constant joy and affection… seriously… ask ANYONE who knows us…. We’ve been together 20 years. Age gaps are not by themself a red flag as long as both parties are adults.
OK? That’s very good for you. These couple are fictional, and he’s unpleasant and creepy, but primarily fictional. Not everything on the internet is a personal attack 🙂