Once again, when a virus invades my upper-respiratory tract, it also attacks my common sense, and I wind up watching a stupidly forgettable piece of fluff.
Here's the synopsis that will kill your synapses. Dolly Parton. Dead. Heavenly mission. Broken family. Heartwarming. Ridiculous outfits. Ridiculouser wigs. Cliches. Love. True meaning of Christmas. Resolution.
Except for a moderately pretty song at the end--and the late, great Roddy McDowell being wasted in his part--you enter into a transaction with Unlikey Angel, wherein you commit to losing 90 minutes of your life at the cost of not thinking about how the virus you've contracted is ruining a perfectly good Saturday afternoon.
It's so forgettable that I had to look up the synopsis to remember the movie I watch two days ago. It's very possible I sneezed out the short-term memory of Unlikely Angel.
Here's the synopsis that will kill your synapses. Dolly Parton. Dead. Heavenly mission. Broken family. Heartwarming. Ridiculous outfits. Ridiculouser wigs. Cliches. Love. True meaning of Christmas. Resolution.
Except for a moderately pretty song at the end--and the late, great Roddy McDowell being wasted in his part--you enter into a transaction with Unlikey Angel, wherein you commit to losing 90 minutes of your life at the cost of not thinking about how the virus you've contracted is ruining a perfectly good Saturday afternoon.
It's so forgettable that I had to look up the synopsis to remember the movie I watch two days ago. It's very possible I sneezed out the short-term memory of Unlikely Angel.