It's not a new idea to reinvent Santa Claus as a hardened badass. 2012 animated film Rise of the Guardians showcased a burly Russian St. Nick, complete with "Naughty" and "Nice" tattoos on either arm. 2018's The Christmas Chronicles features Kurt Russell in combat boots as the jolly old gift-bearer. And just last year, Netflix's animation Klaus presented a Kingpin-sized Kris Kringle voiced by big bad baritone J. K. Simmons.
But none present such a grizzled and grounded Santa as Fatman. Mel Gibson, with a bristly salt-and-pepper beard (though far more natural than most iterations) and a flask of hard liquor, takes the reins of the role as a Santa worn out by the way the world has gone. With every passing year, more and more children wind up on his Naughty list. As a result, his dutiful elf-run factory is turning out diminishing volumes of toys to diminishing numbers of deserving children around the world. The only way he's going to be able to make ends meet is to take a contract with the US Military, manufacturing jet parts in order to earn a government subsidy for the workshop and all its employees. Chris, as he's referred to, is thinking about hanging up the red coat. Maybe the world has just outgrown Santa Claus.
Perhaps the rest of the world has, but hitman Jonathan Miller (Walton Goggins) can't let him go. See, when Jonathan was growing up, he didn't get much from Santa. Growing up in a dysfunctional family with neglectful parents, he only ever got one thing from Santa: a rinky-dink Matchbox police car. And he never really figured out why "the fat man" never acknowledged him on Christmas.
Then Jonathan gets the opportunity of a lifetime when spoiled rich brat Billy Wenan (Chance Hurstfield) finds coal in his stocking and hires Jonathan to kill Santa.
Yep, that's it. That's the premise.
If you go into this film expecting compelling character arcs, allegory, or some greater meaning gleaned from a more rugged take on the Santa myth, you'll leave unfulfilled. Thematically, Fatman is pretty barren. The real charm of it all comes from the little details of how writers-directors Eshom and Ian Nelms choose to flavor this iteration of Father Christmas, and the grim, self-aware shlock that pervades the setup in the first half.
Gibson's Chris Cringle is a hardass, yes, but he's not totally a bitter nihilist or a vengeful yuletide marauder. He's still Santa, and he values people and the role he has to play in society. He's just tired. He has an endlessly loving, firm wife in Ruth (Marianne Jean-Baptiste), who bakes him the world's best cookies, curbs his bad drinking habits, and insists on the importance of his work even when the world seems to have forgotten him. His inbound opponent, Jonathan, is a classic man-in-black who will kill in cold blood to get information on the whereabouts of the Fatman, and I think only Walton Goggins could deliver, "Where is Santa Claus, motherfucker?" with any degree of comedic cool.
The Nelms brothers take time to pepper in little details about how this version of the myth works—elves sustain themselves entirely on a diet of cookies and candy, as they've apparently found sugars and carbs and a routine of 20 minute naps every 8 hours is the most efficient way to live and work (and they outlive humans as a result). National governments and heads of large corporations are well-acquainted with Chris—at one point, when work gets slow, he calls Elon Musk amidst a list of other corporate leaders to ask if he has any work for him. It's a charmingly underplayed version of the story that never really pushes too far into the "gritty realism" that so many reinterpretations of classic icons fall into.
The actual plot, however, does kind of fall into that trap, at least in its climax. It becomes clear as Fatman tries to ratchet up the tension that no one really has any stake in the conflict; Chris doesn't even know his assassin is on his way to get his revenge until he arrives and kills some guards at the workshop. It's all over and done too quickly, and frankly takes itself far too seriously—a somewhat surprising mistake, given the fun balance shown in the earlier parts of the film. Ultimately, not much is felt at the height of the conflict, and it kinda almost kills the whole thing—and I'm sure it actually would for a lot of people. But I felt that it regained its goofy, gritty earnestness in the closing minutes.
I admit I'm a bit of a sucker for these kinds of things. I like a flip on a popular myth, especially in the name of fun. So I may have gotten more out of this than most people. Hell, I had a really good time with Krampus a few years ago. Fatman is certainly no alternative Christmas classic, nor will Mel Gibson's turn as the character likely be remembered any more than Kurt Russell's. But if you're looking for a different way to get into the Christmas spirit this year, Fatman might be just enough to tickle your tree.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WjBjUF4Tb_k&t=35s&ab_channel=MovieTrailersSource&w=585