Christmas at the Kringles Review: Suburban Holiday Horror

Mark and Julie Severson (Ron Livingston and Rachel Bilson) move their family into a quiet suburban neighborhood looking for a fresh start. Their next-door neighbors, the Kringles, are a different breed entirely: Nick and Carol (Thomas Lennon and Arden Myrin) celebrate Christmas year-round, with a front yard that looks like a department store display and a cheerfulness that borders on maniacal. When the Seversons' son becomes increasingly attached to the Kringle household - and their suspiciously perfect holiday rituals - Mark and Julie start digging. What they find suggests the Kringles aren’t just eccentric; they may not be entirely human.

The screenplay, which cycles through action set pieces, horror beats, and broad comedy, plays like a cranked-up mashup of The ‘Burbs and a Black Friday episode of Tales from the Crypt. The first act leans heavily on deadpan comedy, watching Livingston’s exasperated dad spiral as candy canes sprout from his lawn. The second act sharpens into something darker, with the Kringles' true nature emerging through crackling firelight and unsettling carols. By the finale, the film has fully committed to chaos - snow blowers as weapons, eggnog as a biohazard, and Beverly D’Angelo’s Mama K delivering the film’s most unsettling laughs with terrifying ease.

What works here, mostly, is the cast. Livingston is the perfect deadpan everyman, weaponizing his signature exasperation into something genuinely funny. Bilson brings warmth and a sharp comedic edge, particularly in the film’s more absurd moments. Thomas Lennon and Arden Myrin are clearly having the time of their lives as the Kringles, skating the line between sitcom-friendly and deeply menacing with unhinged glee. Rob Riggle’s Drunk Santa is a one-joke gag that somehow lands every single time he appears, while Donald Faison and David Wain round out the supporting players with reliable energy. Beverly D’Angelo, meanwhile, is the film’s secret weapon - a matriarch with a smile that could curdle milk. The practical effects and set design lean into the film’s B-movie roots, with the Kringle house looking delightfully wrong in every frame.

But the film has real problems. Kevin Lewis’s direction often feels caught between paying homage and just mimicking better movies, and the genre shifts are jarring enough to induce whiplash. The script introduces intriguing threads - what are the Kringles, really? - before abandoning them for chases and one-liners. At 100 minutes, the pacing drags in the second act, where the tension should be tightening. And for a film billed as Action, Horror, and Comedy, it never fully commits to any of the three; the horror beats lack genuine scares, the action is mostly slapstick, and the comedy is often too broad to land with consistency. A TMDb rating of 6.1 feels about right: this is a movie that will find a cult audience, but mainstream viewers may check their watches.

Still, there’s something charming about a film this committed to its own weirdness. It’s not good in the traditional sense, but it’s memorable - and in the crowded streaming landscape, that counts for something.

Pros:

• Ron Livingston and Rachel Bilson anchor the chaos with sharp, funny performances
• Thomas Lennon and Arden Myrin are delightfully unhinged as the Kringles
• Beverly D’Angelo steals every scene she’s in as Mama K
• Practical effects and production design embrace the B-movie spirit
• Rob Riggle’s Drunk Santa is a reliably funny running gag

Cons:

• Jarring tonal shifts between horror, comedy, and action
• The second act drags despite the escalating premise
• Underdeveloped mythology leaves key questions unanswered
• Horror elements lack genuine scares
• The script relies on familiar suburban-satire tropes without reinventing them

Christmas at the Kringles is the cinematic equivalent of a spiked eggnog: sweet, weird, occasionally alarming, and best consumed with friends who appreciate a good bad movie. It’s not the holiday classic anyone was asking for, but it’s a perfectly serviceable late-night stream for viewers who like their Christmas cheer with a side of suburban paranoia. If you’re expecting tight storytelling or genuine scares, you’ll be disappointed. If you’re here for Ron Livingston’s slow-burn meltdown, Beverly D’Angelo’s sinister smile, and a 100-minute ride that never quite makes sense, pull up a chair by the fire. Just don’t accept the fruitcake.