Franchise Friday: Unwrapping the 'Santa Clause' series
Is Disney’s Tim Allen franchise worth its nearly 30-year run?
It’s hard to state how big of a deal Tim Allen was in 1994. Other than probably Jim Carrey – who had maybe the biggest cinematic year any entertainer can have – no other comedian dominated the pop culture landscape like he did.
And while Carrey’s films that year – Ace Venture: Pet Detective, The Mask and Dumb and Dumber – catered largely to the same demographic, Allen had a broader reach.Home Improvement was the highest-rated sitcom on television; it was the second-most-watched show on all TV for that season, with an average of 19 million viewers. His first book, Don’t Stand Too Close to a Naked Man, was a #1 bestseller.
He capped the year by starring in The Santa Clause, a Disney family comedy budgeted at $22 million that brought in $145 million at the North American box office. During one week in November, Allen had the number one sitcom, a number one book, and the number one movie in America.
The Santa Clause went on to become a fairly durable franchise, with its first sequel coming out in 2002 and still having enough built-in appeal that it grossed $139 million in North America and another $33 million worldwide. A second sequel opened in 2009 and wasn’t quite as successful, but still grossed $80 million in the U.S. This November, eager to see whether Allen’s take on St. Nicholas still had some generational appeal, Disney+ released a six-part legacy sequel series, The Santa Clauses.
I was 15 years old when The Santa Clause hit theaters, and I was particularly interested in the budding career of Tim Allen. Like most families, mine watched Home Improvement together every Tuesday night. I thought the show was hilarious. More than that, Allen’s success was a local story – he was a Detroiter; my parents had seen him hone his routine at the Comedy Castle in Royal Oak. On Thanksgiving 1994, we had tickets to a Lions game; to me, the biggest deal was that Tim Allen himself was in the same building.
But The Santa Clause never became the perennial classic in our household that, say, Home Alone, A Christmas Story or Elf did. I couldn’t tell you why, although my hunch is that I saw it during my last gasp of childhood, and by the next year I was done with any Santa-type Christmas stuff. I saw Santa Clause 2 on video or TV at some point, but it played largely as background noise; I skipped the third entirely. I rewatched the original once or twice with my son over the years, but it never really became the must-see that some of our others are. We’ve been keeping up with The Santa Clauses, mainly because it’s the rare family show we can sit down and watch together in the lead-up to Christmas.
This past week, the kids had a day off school, and I took a day off work since I figured trusting them to play quietly would be a no-go this close to winter break. We bought some pizza rolls and ordered Crumbl Cookies, and decided to watch all three Santa Clause movies over the course of three days. So, let’s talk about whether those three movies – and The Santa Clauses – hold up as a rare holiday franchise.
The Santa Clause (1994)
One thing that will come up over and again in this discussion is that these are weird movies, and the first film is no exception. It’s a movie that wants to be both a tender look at fractured families and a whimsical poke at holiday tropes, with just enough subversive humor to keep adults interested. It’s a collision of tones that works intermittently.
The idea is not bad: Divorced dad Scott Calvin accidentally knocks Santa Claus off his roof one night and discovers the titular Santa Clause, stating that whomever dons the red cloak and hat must take on the mantle of the holiday icon. As he transforms into Santa, Scott becomes a better, kinder person and enjoys a closer relationship with his son, Charlie. Toss in some smart-ass elves (particularly Bernard, played by David Krumholtz), farting reindeer and a plethora of Christmas puns (I can’t decide whether “The Rose Suchak Ladder” company is brilliant or the worst thing ever), and you have the blueprint for a holiday classic.
There’s stuff about The Santa Clause that works really well. Its North Pole is cute and magical, and having children play the elves is a nice touch. I want to discuss Tim Allen’s performance in these movies more when it comes to the second one, but I think he’s solid. Aside from one grunt, he’s not leaning that hard into his standup/Tim “The Toolman” Taylor persona (there’s a fun gag where Scott tries on a toolbelt, though). There’s a gentleness to his humor in the best moments, and what’s surprising as this series goes on is how good Allen is as a jolly, earnest Santa. He starts the movie in sitcom territory, but handles Scott’s dramatic arc well (this shouldn’t be surprising, as it’s just a slightly more family friendly character journey than the one he would take five years later in the stone-cold classic, Galaxy Quest). And Judge Reinhold has fun as the well-meaning but dopey new husband to Scott’s ex.
The Santa Clause strives to be slightly more acerbic than your usual Disney fare, and its attempts at grown-up humor never quite work. Anchoring the story to such a dark joke as Scott accidentally killing Santa sets a weird tone, particularly in how the movie never mentions his death again (and the elves just kind of accept it without really caring). It’s confusing how a mystical icon like Santa Claus can die from falling off a roof, but the things happening to Scott’s body – including weight gain so rapid that it should explode his heart – are just laughed off. There are jokes about sugar consumption and flatulent reindeer alongside shots of Santa ogling a woman and murmuring “very nice” or a weird throwaway mention of “Armand Assante” that I’m sure all the kids love (at least it cut its “1-800-SPANK-ME gag” in subsequent releases). Add to that the subplot about Charlie becoming obsessed with his father’s new role, which his mother rightfully reads as a trauma-induced mental breakdown, and the movie has an unsettling undercurrent.
Also, a side tangent: why did people in the 1990s hate psychiatrists so much? There are so many jokes about Scott hating Judge Reinhold’s character just for being a psychiatrist, and I’m reminded that in the 1990s we laughed off the idea of mental health.
Like I said, the movie’s not bad, but it can’t quite mesh its sweet and subversive sides. Scott’s a bit of an ass early in the film – which is in line with the character’s arc but the smarminess is unnecessarily harsh and condescending in places. And I’ll just toss out that I absolutely hate when Christmas movies try to make elves cool, so the whole “elves with attitude” sequence (and that godawful dance Allen does with them on Christmas Eve) lands with a thud. But its heart’s in the right place, and the movie effectively hits its more tender beats. It’s fine.
The Santa Clause 2 (2002)
I’ll just come out and say it: I kind of like The Santa Clause 2.
Like the first, it’s a collision of tones that don’t really gel, but I think both movies it’s trying to be are interesting. There’s a wacky comedy about a fascist Santa robot that works on weirdness alone, and it happens parallel to a romantic comedy that is actually kind of sweet.
The sequel finds Scott happily chugging away at the North Pole when an Elf (Spencer Breslin) alerts him of “The Mrs. Clause”: the requirement that all Santas be married. His bad Christmas is compounded by the news that Charlie is now on the Naughty List, having been caught spray-painting his school’s gym because of his principal’s (Elizabeth Mitchell) aversion to the holidays. Scott heads back to the States to get a spouse in a month and clear Charlie up; he puts a robotic Santa in control of the elves and chaos, of course, ensues.
There’s some fun stuff in here. They spent a bit more on the North Pole this time around, and it has a fun, colorful look. I particularly enjoy the meeting of mystical icons or whatever it’s called, particularly Peter Boyle (in a new role than in the first film) as Father Time. And while the “Santa needs a wife” subplot might feel a bit cheesy, it’s probably no less so than any number of Hallmark movies released in the last 20 years. It’s actually the stuff what works best; Molly Shannon shows up as a date from hell who’s very funny. And while it’s perhaps inevitable that Scott would wind up with Charlie’s Scrooge-like principal, their rushed courtship has some charm, and it’s all wrapped in a holiday glow that lovers of Christmas rom-coms dig so much.
I actually think Tim Allen is really good in this movie; it’s the most balanced the series allows him to be, and it hints at a career where he might have settled into affable everyman roles. He dials back the smarm and is really likable for most of the movie; when he’s in the full-Santa regalia, he handles the twinkly and jolly side of the character pretty well. Say what you will about these projects (and believe me, I will), but I get the sense Allen really enjoys playing this character and he handles the sincere stuff well.
It probably works because he gets to indulge his sillier side by also playing the robot Santa, who quickly takes the Naughty and Nice rules too seriously and turns into a dictator, complete with military outfits. It’s weird and over the top; it’s totally a YMMV situation, but I found his energy fun. The fascist Santa basically does nothing but scream and yell, and it’s so over-the-top that I couldn’t help but laugh.
The film can’t ever quite bring the two tones together, though. After tossing in the obligatory farting reindeer joke, Scott has to head back to the North Pole to fight the robot, which leads to a chase involving what appears to be a mentally impaired reindeer, Chet (again: these are weird movies). Watching Tim Allen ride to the rescue on a flying reindeer and fight a robot of himself is a weird special effects mishmash, and the film’s slapstick approach totally falls flat. And by building to a big, energetic climax, it sells the payoff to its romantic comedy aspects short. It’s a movie that should have been one thing or another: either a focus on the romantic comedy or the North Pole hijinks. As it is, Charlie – you know, the emotional focal point of the first film – is mostly forgotten, but thankful the anti-psychiatry jokes are cut way down. I also could have done without an ending that implies Santa and Mrs. Claus are about to head off on their honeymoon and he’s going to get laid a lot.
But hey, it mostly works. Of all the entries in this franchise, this is the one I’d most readily revisit.
The Santa Clause 3: The Escape Clause (2006)
I’m not going to ask why they made this movie – The Santa Clause 2 was a big hit and I’m sure everyone was happy for another paycheck. But holy cow is The Santa Clause 3 a bit of cold garbage.
The film’s 90% sub-Nickelodeon sitcom and 10% It’s a Wonderful Life ripoff. To quell the constant complaints of Mrs. Claus, Scott invites her parents (Alan Arkin and Anne Margaret, both utterly wasted) to the North Pole. But because of some Secret Santa clause or something, he has to keep his real identity hidden (apparently his in-laws never wonder why his wife was attracted to a man in his 40s who looks like a 75-year-old Kenny Rogers), so he disguises the North Pole as Canada. Which basically means a lot of jokes about maple leaves and sentences ending in “eh.” Meanwhile, his ex-wife and Judge Reinhold are coming to the North Pole to visit, bringing along their daughter(?), who wants to see Santa’s magical and just-now-mentioned Snow Globe collection. And this is just a plot contrivance so that Jack Frost (Martin Short) can get Santa to put his hands on a snow globe, say “I wish I was never Santa” and give up the mantle forever. At just over 90 minutes, it’s both overstuffed and too long.
Like the other films, the biggest problem is that The Santa Clause 3 wants to be two different movies, a family comedy about family stress and a mystical “look how important you really are” story. The problem is that this time out, none of the stories work. The family sitcom elements are shrill and rushed, with no real emotional weight. Scott’s supposed to learn that he’s a workaholic, but … he’s Santa. He literally works one night a year; if his family can’t see him on Christmas Eve, he’ll be back that night. Or just celebrate a different day. But everything is pitched at high speed and higher volume, and the film’s domestic tension never works. Allen basically sleepwalks through this one, and funny people like Arkin are left stranded.
Martin Short would, ideally, bring a welcome dose of energy to this, and he’s admittedly the most interesting thing. He’s got a sly, bitchy energy that works intermittently. But he’s so cartoonishly over the top and pushing against nothing that it never works. He concocts an overly elaborate plan to get his hands on Santa’s snow globes (hehe), but it’s never really clear what he’s doing or why and, worse, it’s never funny. His plan boils down to “annoy Santa until he snaps,” but the only one being annoyed is the audience.
Also, Santa has apparently commissioned this fireplace, which will forever haunt my dreams (see above).
The sitcom stuff takes up about two-thirds of the movie, none of it funny and none of it tied into the franchise’s themes of “believing is seeing” or wonder. In fact, aside from its North Pole setting, there’s not much that’s Christmas-y or festive about this at all. It feels like Santa in the off-season; a movie that’s all about cold even before Jack Frost shows up (and Jack Frost doesn’t even care whether things are cold; he’s just a diva. Cold is just his superpower).
The “I wish I was never Santa” storyline might have been a better approach for a whole movie, but smooshed into the final 20 minutes, it’s rushed and no one feels particularly invested. Scott basically learns what life would have been like if he had never been Santa Claus. But it never thinks to drop in on the wife he never met and instead places its emotional focus on Charlie, a character who is gone on a ski trip for most of the movie and shows up for an obligatory cameo. The big threat is that Jack Frost, who’s now Santa, turns the North Pole into an amusement park – where each night he does a “New York, New York” number with North Pole words – and it’s just a big, garish, unpleasant whiff. The film’s climax involves Tim Allen and Martin Short being whisked back to 1994, both involved in a race to see who can knock Santa off the roof (and, remember, to his death) first.
There’s not much more to say about this one. It’s unfunny, unfestive, unmotivated and unpleasant. Its climax pulls something about magic hugs out of its ass to redeem Jack Frost, but maybe it should have just saved some of that warmth for the actual story.
The Santa Clauses (2022)
There’s a perfectly fine and innocuous 80-minute movie in The Santa Clauses, which is a little bit of a course correction in tone from The Santa Clause 3. But there’s no universe in which this needed to be a six-part TV series, clocking in at nearly three hours.
The story finds Scott honing in on 65 years old and getting to be a bit old for it all. Christmas magic around the world is failing, he’s constantly banging himself up, and he’s never able to spend Christmas with his wife and two North Pole-born kids (again: you work one day a year, Santa; just celebrate another day). So, Santa decides to retire, ultimately settling on well-meaning but too aggressive tech bro Simon Choksi (Kal Penn), whose desire for success ultimately blinds him to the real meaning of Christmas. But Scott’s wife, Carol, and his two kids are finding a new life of their own in Chicago; will they allow Scott to come back and reclaim his throne?
The most interesting thing about The Santa Clauses is how invested it seems to be in tidying up the plot holes and thematic inconsistencies from the preceding films. Carol points out that Mrs. Claus has never had an identity of her own; and no one knows what happened to the previous Mrs. Claus when her Santa was knocked off the roof. The show also digs into why the elves might not have been too concerned when Scott’s predecessor never came home, and attempts to alleviate the darker joke behind the first movie. I don’t know that the explanations work or are even necessary (sometimes, you can just let stories be inconsistent), but they’re the most somewhat interesting part of this.
The idea of the Clauses finding a new life away from the North Pole is interesting but there’s too little story for too much runtime. Within one episode, Carol goes back into academia and the kids – whose personality is just a.) the one who talks to animals and b.) the dumb one – have their own little cliques they fit into, and Scott is called back to the North Pole by his second-hand elf, Noel (played by a capable young actor who’s instructed mainly to scream). Charlie shows up for one episode to basically say he’s not interested in doing any more, and David Krumholtz shows up and has to offer a sweaty explanation for why his elf has aged. There’s a lot happening and yet the story moves with little urgency or incident. It’s clear from the start that Simon is misguided, and Scott never feels too happy with his new life for us to believe his retirement will stick.
For series diehards, they’ll get plenty of Christmas related puns. They’ll get farting reindeer and over-caffeinated kids acting like adults. Yes, there’s the usual talk about Christmas magic and the need to believe. By the fourth go-round, though – and after Elf has largely taken over from The Santa Clause as the go-to holiday family comedy – it all feels too rote and familiar, although it should be noted that Mitchell seems really excited to be back, and the show’s energy picks up when she’s around. The opposite of that is Laura San Giacomo, who shows up as a Christmas witch and drags the story’s momentum down every time she’s onscreen.
The problem, I’m sad to say, might be with Allen. Moving a bit slower, the energy and twinkle from the first two films is gone. He’s more grumpy and less funny this time out, but he still hits the sincere beats. He brings genuine conviction to Scott’s beliefs that Christmas shouldn’t be about trends and toys but memories and traditions. I think a constant throughout Allen’s career has been projects where he extols the virtue of family, and I think it’s why he’s had such a long career with Disney.
But here’s the problem: That “I miss the simpler, older days” sounds much different coming from a 70-year-old white man these days.
The elephant in the room is that Tim Allen is best-known these days as a bit of a conservative mouthpiece. He’s far from the worst offender, and I think most of his most annoying and cringeworthy statements come from his instincts as a comedian who came around in the age where confrontational and edgy were expected of him. But his more subdued manner and lines like “Saying ‘Merry Christmas’ is suddenly problematic” definitely stand out. The story tries to make Scott the blame of his own problems in the end, but a good portion of the show is given over to his sadness for being pushed to the side while his wife and kids find new passions; the fact that the plot’s resolution comes down to giving everyone what they want feels hollow.
The bigger problem is the optics. What this story boils down to is a 65-year-old white man (played by an actor known recently for “anti-woke” rants) who steps down from a job and gives it to another man (played by a person of color) and then realizing that, no, he was better at the job and should have it back. I want to be clear that I don’t think this was an intentional thematic choice on the part of Allen or the writers – the show does have a fairly diverse cast and I think the bigger conflict they wanted to explore was our immediate gratification culture over the patience and specialness of Christmas – but it’s still a bad look nonetheless. And the Kal Penn subplot never really works anyway because the show never really is sure whether he’s consumed with greed or just a sad and misguided single dad.
Some more thoughtful approaches to the subtext and a more judicial hand in editing could have made this a perfectly fine bit of holiday filler. But there’s just too much of it, but it’s all too wafer-thin to really stick with you. Week after week, myself and my kids couldn’t really remember what had happened on previous episodes. It’s a bit of sugary nothing that proves we’ve probably mined all the holiday cheer we can from this particular bit of IP.
Also, The Santa Clauses not only continues to use The Santa Clause 3’s fireplace from hell; it might also have the most off-putting intro I’ve ever seen.