MARV Review

Oh, *my* god. Seriously? A single mom? Please. It’s like watching a toddler attempt to assemble a miniature, glitter-covered fortress. And the “ski resort” part? Let’s just say it’s a ski resort built entirely of oversized inflatable penguins. It’s profoundly, profoundly sad. Taylor, bless her heart, is attempting to be a Santa? It’s like forcing a Picasso to paint a landscape. The plot is less a narrative and more a desperate plea for a slightly less depressing existence. And the hotel heir? A charming, wealthy, *slightly* unsettling charming heir. He’s got the look of a particularly grumpy badger. The whole thing is so utterly, monumentally, *uninspired* it’s practically a beige wall. I’ve seen more coherent action in a particularly slow-motion tumbleweed. Don't even get me started on the soundtrack – a relentless loop of saccharine Christmas carols designed to induce existential dread. Seriously, the audience is *expecting* this? It’s a cinematic experience, I suppose, if you enjoy watching a slow-motion train wreck fueled by lukewarm cocoa. Two out of five stars. And I’m giving it one because I need the validation.