Days of the Bagnold Summer is an upbeat, positive comedy that explores the chasm between a librarian single-mother, and her shy but heavy-metal obsessed teenage son.

In its early scenes, the film is set up to explore Daniel, played by Earl Cave, whose planned trip to Florida with his estranged Dad has been cancelled. Instead, he is stuck with his librarian mother for six weeks, whose optimistic personality makes his life miserable. Cave conveys a bleak, anti-social attitude dressed in head-to-toe black attire, while shoving in earphones with heavy metal music to drown out the world’s noise. However, it is clear over time that this persona may be an affectation that does not reflect who he is as a person. With glimmers of care for his mother, and his family dog, as well as a blind rage at his friend Ky for mocking his passions, the film suggests this persona is a veneer to emotionally disconnect from others.

While Daniel feels central early on, the film equally invests in the character of Sue, who evokes greater sympathy as she navigates heavy emotional burdens with an earnest optimism. Monica Dolan expertly instils a nervous twitchiness to Sue that is easy to sympathise with, but also expresses an outpouring of emotion when she bursts into tears in one scene on account of juggling numerous hardships.

On the one hand, she desperately tries to establish a relationship with her disappointed son who cannot go to America, while also combatting her own loneliness. In one sped-up montage, Sue whizzes in and out of the kitchen completing countless daily chores, while Daniel is unmoved on the table on his phone. Meanwhile, sleazy history teacher Mr. Porter, played by Rob Brydon, manipulates her into a romantic interlude with a painful realisation which challenges her sense of goodwill toward people.

Although together as family, they have an icy relationship with very little emotional connection. This animosity thaws as they become understanding of each other’s needs. From the outsider’s perspective, it feels like they have a palpable history that is not contrived in any way. The seamless repartee they engage in feels like their conversations have played thousands of times before, and their lives plausibly exist outside of what is seen on screen.

Notably, the film is very beautifully shot, with symmetrical framing reminiscent of Wes Anderson. In particular, characters are often seen through windows or doorways that symbolises an emotional disconnect, as well as a literal reduction in size that implies being subsumed by a societal pressure.

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In holiday-comedy Happiest Season, the most threatening thing to arrive on Christmas is not an ugly sweater, nor a dried fruit cake, but the revelation of a gay couple’s relationship to one half’s deeply conservative parents.

Presenting themselves as best friends and roommates, the antics of couple Abby (Kristen Stewart) and Harper (Mackenzie Davis), who return to Harper’s traditionalist and hung-up-on-appearances family for Christmas, are met with the familiar light-hearted fanfare of holiday films past, present, and future.

The clear distinction in this film is in its presentation of queer relationships; an almost unheard-of notion in the annals of Christmas storytelling, let alone being told from the perspective of gay women.

A general slapstickery (cue the inevitable hiding in closet gag) generates most of the film’s laughs, with comedic powerhouses Mary Steenburgen, Dan Levy, and relative newcomer Mary Holland, singing in zany, comedic harmony. Unfortunately, these laughs are conflicted by a dramatic heaviness brought on by the cracking of Abby and Harper’s relationship (the returning of exes played by Jake McDorman and a straight-faced Aubrey Plaza feeling a bit much); a feature that actress turned writer-director Clea DuVall – whose previous directing credits include 2016’s The Intervention – permeates throughout the film to dubious effect.

That said, a film like Happiest Season relishes in its sense of comfort and personality. Its incredibly charming leads – particularly K-Stew, who continues her excellent foray into comedies following last year’s delightful Charlie’s Angels reboot – help overcome this occasionally sombre mood.

Happiest Season uses the tropes of a forbidden romance to display how queer people conduct themselves in a performative manner when not present in safe spaces. Their trials and tribulations are displayed as more than jokes, but pain-points which denote how far behind society is in embracing queer people.

With Christmas on the horizon, a well-meaning and progressive comedy like Happiest Season offers some respite to an otherwise disgruntled year. ‘Tis the season to be jolly, merry, and even a little dysfunctional.

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