This year, we’ll once again shine a light on unconventional Christmas movies that we feel are worth putting into your holiday viewing rotation. Follow along here.
Much like many of our favorite recording artists will eventually sell out and succumb to cutting a Christmas album, there’s a good chance your most beloved actors will be tempted by an easy payday and wind up starring in a Christmas movie.But similar to Sufjan Stevens, Bob Dylan, and Sharon Jones & the Dap-Kings rising above the soul-sucking mediocrity and saccharine sentimentality of most holiday records, certain screen talents likewise figure out how to side-step the schmaltz that derails so many Dec. 25-themed projects.
Such is the case with The Night Before, a wildly underrated film featuring some of our brightest comedic stars (including a few just beginning their ascents) and at least one scene-stealer better known for his intense dramatic work.Released just before Thanksgiving 2015 as counter-programming to YA mega-hit The Hunger Games: Mockingjay – Part 2, Jonathan Levine’s film received mildly positive reviews (68% fresh on Rotten Tomatoes) and earned a respectable $43 million domestically against a $25 million budget. Nearly a decade later, its humor holds up nicely, though a few forward-thinking decisions render the production surprisingly wise and increasingly relatable.
On second thought, that blend of wit and wisdom should come as no surprise to viewers who appreciate Levine’s 2011 cancer comedy, 50/50. While The Night Before doesn’t quite reach the emotional highs of its predecessor, the reunion of Levine and stars Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Seth Rogen is also playing with slightly lower stakes than a coin-flip, life-or-death illness, albeit ones still rooted in love’s ability to counteract trauma.
Indeed, there’s an undeniable sweetness to Chris (Anthony Mackie) and Isaac (Rogen) taking their buddy Ethan (Gordon-Levitt) out for a wild 2001 Christmas Eve in New York City — oddly bereft of any hint of 9/11 — to help get his mind off the recent loss of his parents. And turning those drunken antics into an annual tradition shows how much the trio value each other.
But after 14 consecutive years of these shenanigans, the decision to have one last blowout celebration (which Chris and Isaac privately note should have occurred a few Christmases ago) also carries an undercurrent of melancholy that’s true for many real-life relationships. Onscreen and off, beneath the laughter, reminiscing, and making new memories is the identifiable sense that things have changed, people are older (if they’re still around), and friends aren’t as close as they once were.
Chris’s pro football stardom and Isaac’s impending fatherhood have provided their personal wake-up calls, but true to most friend groups having at least one Peter Pan, Ethan tragically has not experienced that epiphany. Instead, he’s continued to use his orphan status as an excuse to delay adulthood, putting him at odds with his relatively more mature buddies and recent ex-girlfriend Diana (Lizzy Caplan), to whom he’s afraid to commit.

This honest portrayal of male friendship and romance anchors The Night Before and enhances its hilarious stoner comedy — itself infused with inspired allusions to ghosts of Christmas movies past. Featuring a cast and crew composed primarily of Xennials and elder Millennials who were then all in their 30s, the film is just far enough removed from the release of Home Alone and Die Hard that references to them hit a sweet spot between nostalgia and fervent fandom. The same goes for the three friends’ hip-hop remix of the FAO Schwarz giant piano scene from Big which, while not a Christmas movie, receives honorable mention status through its use of toys and the childlike wonder of wistful adults.
Innocent of semi-recency bias, the script ladles on another layer of cinematic holiday history by naming Ilana Glazer’s agent of chaos Rebecca Grinch and granting enigmatic weed dealer Mr. Green (Michael Shannon, having a ball in a rare comedic role) an arc similar to Clarence’s in It’s a Wonderful Life. Such deft synthesis of the past and present is a specialty of Rogen’s longtime creative partner Evan Goldberg, one of four credited screenwriters here but — considering the homage-rich nature of his subsequent scripts Neighbors 2, Sausage Party, and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Mutant Mayhem — very well could have been the film’s driving creative force.
In line with Barenaked Ladies’ shockingly fun and poly-religious Barenaked for the Holidays (seriously, give that one a listen), The Night Before additionally includes a rare subplot of Jews at Christmas, peaking with Isaac, donning a sweater featuring the Star of David, unintentionally coming face-to-face with 2,000-year-old Jewish guilt on multiple occasions.
Bro-y as this all sounds, the film’s true legacy may be that its female stars far outshine the bulk of their male ensemble-mates. Caplan, Glazer, Jillian Bell, and Mindy Kaling all excel in joke-heavy, spotlight-grabbing supporting roles, while Miley Cyrus makes a strong case for most memorable cameo in 21st century cinema.
Ranking right up with this equity play is The Night Before’s thesis statement that grand gestures at Christmas may not be realistic or healthy. Though the potential for positive change is present and even amplified this time of year, the filmmakers suggest that the go-for-broke “romantic” gestures of, say, the deeply misogynistic Love Actually should be avoided and replaced by the endangered species that is one-on-one conversations. As Levine’s film posits, what is realistic is standing up for friends in their hour of need, which in turn has the potential to establish new, stronger bonds moving forward.
“It’s harder to stay friends with people when you’re older,” Rogen’s Isaac sagely notes in The Night Before’s final minutes. “You have so much of your own shit going on.”
“We’ll just have to try harder,” replies Mackie’s Chris. “It’s important, you know?”
Truer words were never spoken (in a Seth Rogen movie).
“The Night Before” is available for digital rental or purchase.