In Fatman, the latest film by brothers Ian and Eshom Nelms, Santa Claus is a gruff, defeated man with a drinking problem. Persecuted by those he wants to bring joy to, he at one point suffers a wound in his side, Jesus-style.
When we meet him, he's venting some anger by shooting tin cans in his back yard. If any Christmas picture screams out for today's Mel Gibson, this is the one.
Yet despite this casting and the increasingly head-spinning plot — the U.S. government hires Santa's workforce to make parts for fighter jets; a rich kid who gets coal under the tree hires a hitman to punish the once-jolly gift-giver — Fatman doesn't elicit the response one rightly expects, the mouth-agape astonishment of wondering how and why such a movie came.
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