In a year when the holidays don't quite feel like the holidays — what with COVID wreaking havoc on everyday lives and treasured traditions — Netflix's Jingle Jangle: A Christmas Journey is here to serve up the extra dose of Christmas cheer so many of us are desperate for. And when I say extra, I do mean extra.
Jingle Jangle, which hit Netflix Nov. 13, runs a perfectly reasonable two hours long, but those two hours are overstuffed in every way imaginable. There are too many concepts, too many subplots, and at least one framing device too many. The musical numbers are long, plentiful, and flashy. (Writer-director David Talbert originally envisioned Jingle Jangle as a stage musical and it shows, especially in the choreography and design.) The narrative unfolds on sets spilling over with steampunk-flavored knickknacks, through actors clothed in layer upon layer of bright colors and bold patterns. It's all entirely too much, in a way that feels just right — like a Christmas stocking bursting at the seams with too many goodies.
Jingle Jangle is steeped in tradition but made new again with sweet surprises that can be treasured for years to come.
It does take a bit for the film to calibrate that balance. Jingle Jangle is downright weird in the early going, serving up a bizarre and low-key disturbing scenario about a gifted toymaker, his jealous protégé, and a sentient matador doll voiced by Ricky Martin (really!) in a vaguely Victorian past. But an episode of Black Mirror this is not. All of this is merely laying the groundwork for the real meat of the story, which picks up some decades later.
The toymaker, Jeronicus Jangle (Forest Whitaker), has aged into an old man, and his once-vaunted store faded into a dusty pawn shop. He lost his creative spark and his relationship with his daughter, Jessica (Anika Noni Rose), thanks a string of tragedies, and now sleepwalks through a lonely existence. Will his life be upended and eventually revitalized by the sudden arrival of his plucky tween granddaughter, Journey (Madalen Mills)? You can count on it.
What you probably won't be able to guess is the convoluted route that Jingle Jangle will take to get there. Among the turns are a flying robot, a sinister plot by a rival toymaker, the return of the sentient doll voiced by Ricky Martin, a dangerous high-speed chase, and magical math equations that glow in the air. Not all of it adds up, no matter how stirringly Mills belts out numbers like "The Square Root of Impossible." (It's basically the film's "Let It Go," and almost as earworm-y.) But that's all part of the joy of Jingle Jangle — you're just along for the ride, unwrapping one marvel after another, and not thinking too hard about how it fits together.
Which, in turn, allows the film's emotions to sneak up on you. What started as a WTF-worthy oddity transforms to a pure delight, with toe-tapping showstoppers like "Magic Man G," performed with magnetic confidence by Keegan-Michael Key, and adorable dance-infused snowball fights between Jeronicus, Journey, and the neighborhood children. Then that joy gives way to deeper, more poignant emotions, as the Jangle family dynamics come to the forefront. I do not advise watching Whitaker and Rose's duet "Make It Work" and the scenes that immediately follow without a box of tissues handy.
Because, for all its imperfections, Jingle Jangle nails the stuff that's really important. Mills is a movie kid who manages to be precious and precocious without tipping over into annoying, with the song and dance skills to hold her own against much more seasoned performers; Whitaker turns in an sad-sack performance that warms up by degrees into something much sweeter. The two of them (and Rose, who has a smaller role) share real chemistry as a family, and the pain and longing between them feels as fully realized as the love.
The world it's set in feels real enough to get lost in, even if it's clear most of the action is limited to a few big sets — Jingle Jangle seems likely to reward repeat viewers who delight in discovering new little details each time. Notably, it's also a rare world in which a Black family gets to be at the center of an old-timey Christmas fantasy. Not for nothing does the matriarch (Phylicia Rashad) of the framing device introduce the film with a knowing smile and a declaration that "I think it's time for a new story."
In its glorious extravagance, and its cheerful disinterest in apologizing for same, Jingle Jangle: A Christmas Journey captures a certain essence of the Christmas spirit. It's equal parts joyful and sentimental, steeped in tradition but made new again with sweet surprises that can be treasured for years to come. 2020's been hard enough as it is. Give yourself the early Christmas gift of watching it to kick off this year's festivities.
Jingle Jangle: A Christmas Journey is now streaming on Netflix.
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