Christmas Eve In Miller’s Point masterfully celebrates a fleeting holiday spirit

Intimate, disparate moments of an annual holiday tradition are artfully portrayed in director Tyler Taormina’s latest, the Long Island-set Christmas Eve In Miller’s Point. The audience ostensibly tags along to a chaotic yuletide party hosted by the matriarch of the Balsano family, which is attended by every conceivable far-flung relative. It’s impossible to keep track of everyone’s relation to one another—there are innumerable references to siblings, in-laws, cousins, and even those who’ve died—yet glimpses are offered into the characters’ unique relationship to the holiday, ranging from wistful to whimsical as the snowy evening unfolds.

Co-written by Taormina and Eric Berger (who also teamed up with the director to pen his previous features Ham On Rye and Happer’s Comet), the film features several recurring narrative fascinations for the duo: teenage ennui, suburban surrealism, and social alienation all crop up here, though Christmas Eve In Miller’s Point veers toward nostalgia-tinged naturalism as opposed to overtly dabbling in Taormina’s previous penchant for magical realism. Perhaps this is because seasonal touches—twinkling string lights, shimmering tinsel, sugary snowfall—imbue the film with an air of enchantment all its own. (Not to mention the children’s eager anticipation for Saint Nick to show up and shimmy down the chimney.)

Christmas Eve In Miller’s Point arrives at the Balsano family function alongside Kathleen (Maria Dizzia), her husband Lenny (Ben Shenkmen), moody teen daughter Emily (Matilda Fleming), and affable young son Andrew (Justin Longo). Hostess Antonia (Mary Reistetter), Kathleen’s mother, is in clear decline; her sentences are curt, her greetings absent of overt affection. Her attitude also likely has something to do with the not-so-secret quarrel that her children are involved in. Her son Matty (John Trischetti Jr.) serves as the family home’s current owner, though Antonia continues to reside there (a presence that is a strain on Matty’s own marriage). While the details of this property dispute—which dovetails with an ongoing conversation about putting Antonia in a nursing home—are never dissected in excruciating detail, the snippets on display will certainly cause viewers to reminisce on the pettiness that has colored their own familial squabbles. 

If Antonia outwardly adores anyone, it’s her grandkids. She harbors an especially soft spot for Emily and her cousin Michelle (Francesca Scorsese), whose hair she gingerly strokes as overlapping conversations echo through the halls. As the film advances, the plot becomes predominantly fixated on the younger sect of the Balsano clan. The adults’ progressive inebriation provides the perfect cover for Emily and Michelle to sneak out and link up with their friends. Their escape entails a rowdy diner hang, scrounging for beer, and dumpster diving (accompanied by the film’s other legendary director spawn, Sawyer Spielberg), but the climax occurs when the teens gather in a snowy, open field—their cars all idling, headlights illuminating the falling snow—and gradually pair off. Inside their cozy vehicles, some hook up, others listen to music, while a few merely sit in silence. 

Taormina channels a very specific aura of nostalgia that never borders on the cloyingly sentimental. The tapestry woven is intentionally scrappy, never lingering too long on any one character’s emotional arc. This distance evokes the manner in which many of us engage with our extended families: with bemused interest, but no true desire to penetrate the performative personalities that often emerge during special occasions. As a result, it’s easy to project the sensibilities of our own kin onto these characters. There’s the lush uncle who simply loves to hear himself talk, the anti-social failson whose parents fret over his screen time, the out-of-place in-law who can’t quite assimilate into an aggressively Long Island, Italian-American culture. The specifics may shift, but the personalities seem universal. 

Even as an outsider among this tightknit group, the camera nevertheless cultivates moments of overwhelming fondness for the Balsanos. A scene where the family comes together to watch home movies on VHS is so sincere in its presentation that one can’t help but get choked up; it’s as if you’re watching the most precious memories of a distant relative, beautiful in part because of their unknowable quality. Granted, it’s easy to conjure nostalgia among millennials by whipping out a piece of bygone technology (Christmas Eve In Miller’s Point is almost definitely a period film, as CRT television sets, flip phones, and even a corded landline make appearances), but the reflection never feels cheap. The intense realism of the dialogue, characters, and setting lends a personal flourish to the film; it is always earnest, never overwrought, and often drolly melancholy. 

Lensed by Carson Lund—whose feature debut Eephus has garnered buzz on the festival circuit for its similarly hyper-regional, bittersweet yet humorous sensibility—Christmas Eve In Miller’s Point is as carefully constructed in vision as it is naturalistic in tone. The wintry landscape of Long Island transforms into a mystical, liminal expanse: an ice skater darts across a frozen pond in the dark, Santa arrives in a decked-out fire truck as a gaggle of onlookers cheer on, two listless cops (charming duo Michael Cera and Gregg Turkington) punctuate the Balsanos’ story with odd encounters of their own. 

Some may see more of their families than others in Taormina’s soon-to-be Christmas classic, but it’s the ephemeral nature of the holiday spirit that is most expertly elicited here. While we’re expected to cherish the season’s many gifts—a halt to the grind, time spent with loved ones, the comfort of good food and drink—a morose air clings to the festivities, if only because yuletide cheer is fleeting by nature. Even for the Balsano family, the prospect that this Christmas celebration might be their last in Antonia’s home, perhaps even with Antonia, is largely unspoken, but certainly felt. Then again, you can’t blame people for putting on appearances for the sake of a good party. 

Director: Tyler Taormina
Writer: Eric Berger, Tyler Taormina
Starring: Matilda Fleming, Maria Dizzia, Ben Shenkman, Francesca Scorsese, Elsie Fisher, Lev Cameron, Sawyer Spielberg, Gregg Turkington, Michael Cera
Release Date: November 8, 2024