Review: The Christmas Dream

Paul and Jiriya Spurrier’s The Christmas Dream begins with a familiar fairy-tale premise, though the circumstances surrounding its young protagonist are considerably less comforting. 

Lek (Amata “Manao” Masmalai), a ten-year-old girl growing up in the mountains of northern Thailand, finds little affection at home, where her mother lives under the threat of her violent stepfather, Nin (Vithaya Pansringarm). School offers a temporary refuge, and it is there that Lek first hears about Santa Claus and the possibility of wishes coming true at Christmas. She wishes for a family that will love her. The wish acquires a different urgency after Nin kills her mother, forcing Lek to flee with little more than her schoolbag and a battered, one-legged doll named Bella. Her year-long journey across Thailand brings her into contact with a succession of strangers, including a wealthy family and a travelling salesman, whose kindness and intentions she must learn to negotiate. A winning lottery ticket further complicates her circumstances. These encounters lend the narrative an episodic structure, exploring trust, morality and the meaning of family.

The Spurriers frame this journey as a musical, drawing on the conventions of classic Hollywood productions. With eighteen original songs and an orchestral score performed by the Siam Sinfonietta Youth Orchestra, the film makes a considerable commitment to its chosen form. Yet the abundance of music does not always translate into dramatic momentum. 

Many of the songs are pleasant enough in their arrangements tend towards the unremarkable. Rather than arising organically from the emotional or dramatic progression, the songs frequently interrupt the flow, seemingly compensating for an otherwise basic storyline. Their simplistic lyrics and predictable melodies do little to deepen the characters or lend greater weight to their circumstances. The narrative might have benefited from greater selectivity, allowing its musical passages to acquire significance through contrast with the surrounding drama.

Though much of the film remains tied to a conventional succession of encounters, with their moral outcomes seldom in doubt. The narrative's more troubling elements, particularly the violence that precipitates Lek's escape and her subsequent vulnerability on the streets of Bangkok, provide a necessary counterweight to its persistent sweetness. Yet the film struggles to reconcile these circumstances with its uncomplicated belief in the restorative power of goodness.

The film is at its most engaging when it makes room for visual extravaganza. The cinematography takes in the varied landscapes of Thailand, from its mountainous countryside to the bustle of its urban centres. The musical numbers occasionally display a welcome sense of scale and choreographic precision. A sequence set in a corporate business park, involving the organisation’s employees, stands out as an interesting set piece. Such moments suggest a more inventive approach to the material. 

Masmalai, in her feature debut, gives Lek an appealing sincerity, while the English-language performances of the largely Thai cast lend the film an unusual quality.

The Christmas Dream has an earnestness that is difficult to dismiss, but its sentiment often arrives more readily than its emotional depth. Its intentions are clear, and the cinematic means of realising them are less consistently persuasive.