Spirited

At some point in the last decade, we collectively reached "Scrooge Saturation." Between the Muppets, Bill Murray, and approximately four thousand Hallmark variations, the Dickensian well hasn't just run dry; it’s been fracked into oblivion. So, when I saw the trailer for Spirited, a $75 million musical extravaganza landing on Apple TV+, my initial reaction was a weary sigh. I watched this on a rainy Tuesday while nursing a mug of peppermint tea that had gone tragically cold, fully prepared to roll my eyes at another cynical IP cash-grab. Instead, I found a film that is hyper-aware of its own redundancy and decides to dance right through the exhaustion anyway.

The "Unredeemable" Flip

What makes this iteration feel like a product of our current moment isn't just the flashy digital sets or the streaming-service pedigree—it's the cynicism. Our "Scrooge" this time is Clint Briggs, played by Ryan Reynolds with that specific brand of "Self-Aware Smirk" he has patented over the last five years. Clint isn't a miserly moneylender; he’s a high-level PR shark who specializes in creating "controversy" to sell products and win elections. He’s a villain of the social media age, someone who understands that human conflict is the most profitable commodity on earth.

Opposite him is Will Ferrell as the Ghost of Christmas Present. In a clever narrative pivot, the film focuses on the bureaucracy of the afterlife. Present is a seasoned veteran of the "Haunting" department, nearing retirement and grappling with a mid-life (after-life?) crisis. When he encounters Clint—who has been labeled "Unredeemable" by the ghosts' sophisticated data tracking—Present decides to stake his legacy on proving that the algorithm is wrong. Ryan Reynolds is essentially playing Deadpool if he traded the katanas for a corporate lobbying firm, and his chemistry with Ferrell provides the engine the movie needs to survive its occasionally bloated runtime.

Modern Gloss and Broadway Chops

If you’ve seen The Greatest Showman or Dear Evan Hansen, you’ll immediately recognize the sonic fingerprints of Benj Pasek and Justin Paul. The songs in Spirited are undeniably "Modern Broadway"—high-energy, lyrically dense, and polished to a blinding sheen by composer Dominic Lewis. They don't have the timeless, organic feel of a classic Disney ballad, but they are infectious. The standout, "Good Afternoon," is a hilarious Victorian-era insult song that serves as the film’s comedic peak. It’s the kind of sequence where director Sean Anders (of Daddy's Home fame) finally lets the "bro-comedy" DNA of his leads fuse with the theatricality of a big-budget musical.

The choreography is surprisingly aggressive for a comedy. Will Ferrell and Ryan Reynolds aren't natural-born hoofers, but their commitment to the bit is total. There is something genuinely charming about watching two of the world’s biggest movie stars sweating through complex tap routines while delivering snarky meta-commentary about how weird it is to be in a musical. Sunita Mani as the Ghost of Christmas Past and Octavia Spencer as Clint’s conflicted VP add some much-needed grounding, even if Spencer feels a bit overqualified for a role that mostly asks her to look wistfully at a computer screen.

A Mirror to the Streaming Era

Spirited is a fascinating artifact of the "Streaming Wars." A decade ago, a $75 million musical comedy with this much star power would have been a theatrical event. Now, it’s "content"—designed to live at the top of an interface for three weeks in December and then disappear into the digital ether. This leads to a certain lack of discipline in the editing room. At 127 minutes, the film is about twenty minutes too long; a casualty of the streaming era where nobody has the heart to tell a major director to tighten the third act.

However, the film earns its keep by engaging with the idea of "redemption" in an age of cancel culture and political polarization. It asks a legitimate question: Can a person actually change, or are we all just performing goodness for the sake of our personal brands? The tap-dancing is surprisingly aggressive, but beneath the glitter, there’s a real attempt to grapple with the "Post-Truth" world Clint inhabits. It’s not a revolutionary philosophical text, but it’s more thoughtful than your average holiday distraction.

Ultimately, Spirited succeeds because it refuses to take its own premise too seriously while taking its craft very seriously indeed. It’s a loud, colorful, slightly overstuffed stocking of a movie that benefits immensely from the effortless charisma of its leads. While it might not replace the 1951 Alastair Sim version in the hearts of purists, it’s a perfectly calibrated piece of contemporary entertainment. If you can handle the Pasek-and-Paul earworms and the sheer volume of Ryan Reynolds' quips, it’s a high-note start to the holidays that actually has something to say about the mess we’ve made of the present.