Add these Christmas classics to your Netflix playlist for some holiday cheer

[Jon] Hamm’s knack for creating likable weasels is a good fit for Black Mirror, a show that regularly applies imagined technology from the not-so-distant future against the cracks of human weakness. In “White Christmas,” the show’s extra-long Christmas special, Hamm plays Matthew, a seemingly friendly communication facilitator with ulterior motives. (I say “communication facilitator” because that’s about as close as I can come to describing the jobs we see him doing over the course of the episode. Basically, he’s a guy who’s good at manipulating people to do things other people want them to do.) Matthew is, at the start of the episode, inside a cabin in some undesignated frozen wasteland, sharing room and board with Joe Potter (Rafe Spall), a taciturn young man with his own dark past. Things are, of course, not what they seem… []

If you’ve already watched May December and want more Todd Haynes in your life, this 2015 period holiday romance with a twist should do nicely. Based on Patricia Highsmith’s 1952 novel The Price Of Salt, it stars Cate Blanchett as the title character (Carol has a double meaning, you see), a woman who begins an affair with a shopgirl (Rooney Mara) during the holiday season in 1950s New York. It’s equal parts joy and melancholy, which may not make it the most heartwarming film you’ll see this year, but it comes a lot closer to capturing the real spirit of the season—sky-high expectations followed by inevitable letdowns—than a lot of the other, blindingly optimistic Christmas fare out there. [Cindy White]

Kurt Russell could’ve just cashed the check. It would’ve been so easy for him to sign on the dotted line, grumble his way through some dinky Netflix movie, and go home to Goldie. What makes the actor a consummate professional and The Christmas Chronicles significantly more watchable than the endless ocean of Hallmark-adjacent dreck filling the streaming platform’s is that he nobly refuses to give himself that pass. It makes no difference to Russell if the prestige level isn’t quite at “Quentin Tarantino.” He still summons all the booming brio he brought to the hangman John Ruth, right down to the . He commits every fiber of his being to conjuring that ineffable Yuletide magic as a newfangled Kris Kringle one long sleigh ride from your daddy’s Santa Claus… []

If we had a holiday romance TV movie bingo card, Netflix’s A Christmas Prince would have us collecting our winnings about 10 minutes in. Young, poor, yet plucky heroine: Rose McIver, star of . Remote, blandly handsome prince: Experienced royal Ben Lamb. Ridiculously fake-sounding name-of country: Aldovia. Adorable moppet: check. Stern royal staff member who gets turned around at the end: check. Conniving romantic hurdle who wants the prince just for the crown: Lady Sophia. (This is the second one of these we’ve seen recently where the prince asks his supposed betrothed if she only wants him for the title and they don’t even have the decency to deny it: “It’s part of who you are!”) Picturesque, postcard-worthy yet nondescript castle: The one in A Christmas Prince was even already used in A Princess For Christmas. Once you’re finished with this one, you’ve got two sequels waiting for you (apologies of the titles are spoilerish): A Christmas Prince: The Royal Wedding, and A Christmas Prince: The Royal Baby. []

It may not surprise you to learn that , starring Lindsay Lohan, is not a good movie. Yet, endearingly, nobody involved pretends that it is, and they do their best anyway. The actors understand the assignment, Netflix makes jokes at its own expense, and in the end, the streaming service has at least one formulaic holiday rom-com to compete for eyeballs in what’s become an increasingly crowded, and seemingly insatiable market for them. Slamming a movie like this for not being particularly great would be like punching a mall Santa Claus over his inability to do actual magic… []

From the opening shot of Emma Roberts’ Sloane stubbing out a cigarette on a plastic Santa and sighing, “Fucking holidays,” Holidate takes great pains to set itself apart from the wholesome side of Netflix’s holiday output. Though the film marks the official launch of an expansive that also includes sequels to Vanessa Hudgens’ cheesy romance and Kurt Russell’s family adventure , Holidate is more in line with the bawdy ethos of or —at least until it fully embraces the rom-com hokiness it lampoons at the start. Like so much of Netflix’s quantity over quality output, Holidate is broad, unsubtle, and seemingly designed to be half-watched, phone in hand. Yet within that framework, it finds a unique comedic spark that keeps it zipping along. []

Netflix’s may be the newest addition to this list, but it’s the one I’m going to fight for the hardest. Written and directed by playwright David E. Talbert, Jingle Jangle is a musical fantasy about a toymaker (Forest Whitaker) who loses his gift after being betrayed by someone very close to him. It isn’t until his estranged granddaughter Journey (Madalen Mills), an inventor in her own right, comes to stay with him for the holidays that he starts to realize the good he was doing and why the science (and magic) needs to return. It’s a beautiful, heartwarming adventure with gorgeous songs and a wonderful message about family, like a modern Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. []

for Best Animated Feature in 2020, is an imaginative origin story for Santa Claus and an instant holiday classic. The key to the Netflix original’s success is its seamless blend of cartoony characters, in both physicality and personality, and surprisingly sophisticated cinematic choreography. Director Sergio Pablos’ “camera” swoops through magical snowy landscapes, illuminates the dark corners of toy workshops with candlelight, and generally demands the audience’s full attention. The cherry on top is an all-star cast delivering spot-on vocals: Jason Schwartzman, J. K. Simmons, Rashida Jones, Joan Cusack, and more. [Jack Smart]

There’s an almost necessary element of fraudulence to hosting a television program. It requires being “on” and being yourself simultaneously—or at least seeming to. The gap between those duties is something Bill Murray has exploited brilliantly over the years, an irony that’s imbued some of his best comedy creations, like lounge singer Nick Winters. And now, when it comes to fronting his very own holiday special for Netflix, Murray doesn’t want to give up the game. It results in a special that spits and sputters when the star is required to play-act himself, but comes breezily to life when he dispenses with the semi-serious put-on, and goes full raconteur. The ghost of Nick Winters haunts the proceedings of A Very Murray Christmas more than a little. []