It’s not often I take it upon myself to disagree with my beloved Josephine March, but forget the presents; for me, Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas without a bucketload of festive films to get stuck into. Fact.
Now, if you’ve ever stumbled across my byline before (hi again!), this revelation might seem surprising. I spend most of my year immersed in critically acclaimed dramas, twisted thrillers, and fantasy epics. But the moment 1 November hits, my viewing habits skew less Mark Kermode, far more Buddy the Elf.
Cineworld's Christmas Film Season is taking place from 28th November until 24th December, bringing festive classics like Elf, The Polar Express, Love Actually, and Gremlins back to Cineworld. Get your tickets by clicking the link below.
BOOK CHRISTMAS FILM SEASON TICKETS
Case in point: so far this month I’ve already watched Elf twice. I’ve also squeezed in The Holiday, Klaus, The Nightmare Before Christmas, and, of course, Richard Curtis’ That Christmas, which has essentially become background noise in my home thanks to my four-year-old’s undying devotion. (There was a brief Frozen diversion, but absence makes the heart grow fonder, etc.)
Some people are unimpressed. My partner, a horror nut, is desperate to return to their usual programming of obscure 90s slashers. Others tease me for my party trick (I can recite The Muppet Christmas Carol word for word: this is culture!). And yes, people have raised eyebrows at my inability to walk past Home Alone without stopping, but 1) babyfaced Kevin McAllister’s antics are irresistible, even if he does occasionally give “future Jigsaw” vibes, and 2) I refuse to feel shame.
Christmas films are, and should always be, joyful indulgence. Never a guilty pleasure. There’s something magical about the emotional safety they offer – not just in their undeniably comforting predictability, or their promise that everything will be OK in the end (even if you sometimes have to crawl through a ventilation shaft to get there). No, it’s the way these films create a pocket-universe where the world is kinder, brighter, merrier, and honestly just so much nicer than real life.
I know, I know; you think I’m wearing rose-tinted nostalgia goggles, right? Well, even if I am, it’s not the great argument you think it is. “Revisiting favourite Christmas films is a nostalgic journey,” says Aidan Kearney, chartered psychologist and founder of Malleable Mind Ltd. “But nostalgia restores us in the face of adversity and positively impacts vitality, wellbeing, social connectedness, and even our connection to meaning in life.”
Powerfully, he adds: “Revisiting the Christmas movie could be seen as re-engaging with a feeling of ‘home’, a safe inner space connected to the past self; a perception of a simpler time and hope for the future.”
Essentially, then, Christmas films are cinematic comfort food. And holy mistletoe, do we need that right now. It’s why I save the festive favourites that shaped my childhood for the big moments of the season. The Muppet Christmas Carol is our Christmas Eve staple, hammering home the age-old message of love, kindness, community, and scaring billionaires until they pay their workers properly. It’s A Wonderful Life only goes on once we’ve polished off the final mince pies on Christmas night, so we can cry en masse into our hot chocolates (hey, it’s cheaper than group therapy). Love Actually belongs to me, my mum, and my sister: no exceptions. And Die Hard? That one’s for when I’ve finally wrapped the last present and I’ll fight anyone who says otherwise. Even if it means I have to get all yippe-ki-yay about it.
The rest – Elf, The Grinch, The Polar Express, Gremlins, The Holiday, Home Alone and Home Alone 2: Lost in New York (the others do not exist) – are fair game at any point in the season. My daughter is small and asks endless, seemingly wildly irrelevant questions while watching. The baby simply giggles and sprints around the house like she’s doing parkour. I love seeing these films fresh through their eyes… but I also treasure those rare evenings when I revisit favourites alone. Even better if it’s at my local cinema. There’s something glorious about being forced into a plush seat, handed snacks, and told I’m not allowed to speak, check my WhatsApps, or dash off to unload the washing for the duration of a film and all of its glorious trailers.
BOOK CHRISTMAS FILM SEASON TICKETS
Call it self-care if you like. It breaks the cycle of attention and gives my ever-churning brain something far lovelier to do than worry about looming deadlines, meetings that could’ve been emails, still-to-be-packed lunchboxes, or whatever grim headline is currently trending. (Remember when the weather was the relaxing part of our news cycle? A simpler time.)
Singing Santa Claus Is Coming To Town with Zooey Deschanel’s cynical Jovi is a surefire cure for even the worst day at the office. Stomping through the snow with Winona Ryder and the March sisters – because yes, Little Women (1994) is absolutely a Christmas movie; I don’t make the rules – softens the blow of these darker, colder nights. Watching The Grinch’s heart grow three sizes? It makes me light up like a Christmas tree, even if I know I’ve got to cook a nut roast for eight people afterwards. And watching Catherine O’Hara lose her son two Christmases in a row? You’d best believe that gives me permission to slow down and make sure I’ve got my own life at least vaguely in order.
I suppose what I’m trying to say is this: watching Christmas movies early is an act of self-soothing, not rebellion. They’re a reminder that (sorry not sorry) love really is all around. They offer hope, levity, and comfort without asking anything in return. They zip me back into my happiest childhood memories far more gently than the creepy Victorian china doll ghost did for Michael Caine. And they let me stop worrying about the big, scary world for a moment and focus on the small, warm, human things instead.
So yes, fine; it’s November, and I’m already deep into my festive watchlist. But the world feels softer when I’m being charmed by Mr Napkin Head (all hail Jude Law, OG purveyor of slutty little glasses), and honestly? I think I deserve that softness for as long as possible.
Come join me, why don’t you?
BOOK CHRISTMAS FILM SEASON TICKETS
Kayleigh is a freelance writer, with a focus on film, TV, pop culture, feminism, and (surprise!) gardening. She has written for a number of publications, including Refinery29, The Guardian, Stylist, The AV Club, Cosmopolitan, Service95, The Irish Independent, and more. You can usually find her curled up in front of a big or small screen when she's not working or juggling childcare (movies are her self-care). Find her on Instagram or LinkedIn.
.jpg)
.png)
