I saw this movie in the cinema with my daughter back in 1998 when she was just a nipper and we have lovely memories of so doing, but when we re-watched it together at the weekend on Netflix, we each agreed that it sucks to high heaven, lol.

It’s probably just that everyone has lovely, fuzzy memories of the late ‘nineties, before international terrorism, global recessions and climate change really began to kick in and the world suddenly became a much scarier place to live in.

Also, we’d both completely forgotten exactly how much bloody ice-hockey is in the film (a lot, a very lot…!), and there’s not much to like there for a couple of Irish women who loathe pretty much all sports, but especially boring American ones where you can’t even see the players because they’re armoured from head to foot. No offence, America. Who loves ya, baby…?

Michael Keaton plays the festively-named Jack Frost, a struggling, nearly-middle-aged-by-this-stage musician who plays blues covers and some original material with his band, which includes cuddly English actor Mark Addy (THE FULL MONTY, GAME OF THRONES, and much more) as Jack’s bezzie mate, Mac. They are desperate for a record deal, and it’s almost within touching distance of them when the big thing that happens in the film happens.

Jack is a nice guy, but his dedication to his music career means that he’s pretty much a deadbeat dad to his kid, Charlie. He doesn’t turn up to the lad’s ice-hockey games, he’s late for everything, that’s if he bothers to show up at all, and he just generally lets Charlie down at all the times when his kid needs him the most.

Jack’s wife, the aptly-named Gabby, played by John Travolta’s missus, Kelly Preston, dishes out some top-level guilt to her hubby for letting down their sprog. Oh, I don’t care about it for myself, Jack! I mean, I chose this, I knew what I was letting myself in for when I married you, it’s Charlie I’m worried about, Jack, you need to be a proper father to him…! And so on. It’s some pretty good guilt.

Then, suddenly, the unthinkable happens. Dad dies in a car crash, shortly after ruining Christmas for his wife and son by saying he’ll be absent for it due to work. Don’t worry, though, folks, he comes back a year later as a snowman- you heard me- and uses the extra time he’s been gifted with to put things right with his son.

That’s about all I’m prepared to say about this sport-heavy festive movie, other than the fact that disc jockey and columnist Henry Rollins is mildly funny as the ice-hockey coach who gets freaked out by Jack in his snowman form.

And three of Frank Zappa’s four children have roles in the film but don’t ask me why, I have no idea. Also, some of the soundtrack music is pretty good, in particular Fleetwood Mac’s haunting song, LANDSLIDE.

Oh, and for a struggling musician whose wife grumbles about needing a bigger house, their house is pretty damn huge. Typical Americans. It’s because everything is so much bigger over there. What would be considered a mansion by us Irish, they’d probably use to house the dog.

Oh, and there’s a lot of snow in the film, possibly the most snow ever used in a Christmas film. Oh- a final ‘oh’- and I thought Gabby should have got with Mac as soon as was decently possible after Jack’s death. He might be at his best on the couch, but at least he’s bloody well there. Happy Christmas…   


Sandra Harris is a Dublin-based novelist, poet, short story writer and film and book blogger. She has studied Creative Writing and Vampirology. She has published a number of e-books on the following topics: horror film reviews, multi-genre film reviews, women’s fiction, erotic fiction, erotic horror fiction and erotic poetry. Several new books are currently in the pipeline. You can browse or buy any of Sandra’s books by following the link below straight to her Amazon Author Page:


Her debut romantic fiction novel, ‘THIRTEEN STOPS,’ is out now from Poolbeg Books:

The sequel, ‘THIRTEEN STOPS LATER,’ is out now from Poolbeg Books: