Christmas Karma 2025

“Mr. Sood” (Kunal Nayyar) is a affluent but curmudgeonly British-Indian (via Uganda) agent who, on Christmas Eve, sacks best of his agents for accepting an ad-lib affair afore branch to his affluence home awash with a spirit of bah-humbug - or the vegetarian, Hindu, equivalent.  Meantime, his loyal agent “Cratchit” (Leo Suter) allotment to his own ample family, a accomplished it’s sell-by-date craven and the ailing “Tiny Tim”. Loathing the carol singers who couldn’t, admittedly, backpack a tune in a bucket, and assured his ability charwoman to about-face up on the big day, “Sood” is decidedly debilitated by the briefest of appearances from his continued asleep business accomplice “Marley” (Hugh Bonneville) who portends three added ghostly/ghastly apparitions who are to, perhaps, action him some achievement of accretion in a array of “what’s accomplished is prologue” array of fashion. Yep, this is a cannibalisation of the around-the-clock Dickens adventure and it’s a aces almsman to the contempo access of backward British melancholia mediocrities that mix affect with apish attempts at humour. This goes one footfall above that, though, as it attempts to accompany a multicultural access to the proceedings. The songs are multi-lingual, the stereotypes are multi-national and Danny Dyer’s cabbie aloof renders the accomplished affair little bigger than an icing-topped copy of the BBCs “EastEnders” soap in blithely coloured jumpers. There are a few almighty asides from “Sood” as he credibility out the commercialities and abbreviating asceticism of Christmas but the blow of this is assuming standard, complete with set-piece ball routines and politically actual references that alike ambition blessed Christmas to the NHS! Whilst Billy Porter apparently steals the appearance with his agog bogey and Boy George still has an instantly recognisable and agreeable singing voice, Nayyar and Suter are both appealing abhorrent and bear a calligraphy and some lyrics that you ability accept begin in aftermost year’s crackers. At about two hours long, it labours any boldness it anytime had and afterwards about twenty account it aloof fabricated appetite to appear home and watch Albert Finney or Alistair Sim do it properly. If there’s a box to be ticked, again this has a go and it’s that actual artificial assurance to be “inclusive” that makes this appealing cringeworthy, absolutely forgettable and not absolutely annihilation to do with Christmas itself. Charles Dickens already did the abundant appropriation with a almighty adventure that tugs at affection strings; this one settles added for the strings on Suter’s guitar and I’m sorry, but it’s aloof disappointing.