Name: Happiest Season
Genre: Romance, Comedy
Released: 2020-11-26T00:00:00+00:00
Cast: Kristen Stewart, Mackenzie Davis, Mary Steenburgen, Victor Garber, Alison Brie

The moment Kristen Stewart’s Abby stands in the Caldwell family living room, a forced smile on her face as she pretends to be Harper’s straight roommate, Happiest Season lays bare its central conflict: the crushing pressure of hiding who you are. Clea DuVall’s directorial debut is an ambitious blend of holiday cheer and the raw reality of coming out, and while it stumbles in places, it ultimately delivers a heartfelt, if imperfect, queer rom-com.

DuVall, co-writing with Mary Holland, draws from her own experiences to craft a story that resonates with authenticity. The film follows Abby (Stewart), who plans to propose to her girlfriend Harper (Mackenzie Davis) during Harper’s family’s annual Christmas party. But the plan unravels when Abby discovers Harper hasn’t come out to her conservative parents, Ted (Victor Garber) and Tipper (Mary Steenburgen). What follows is a tense balancing act between holiday festivities and the emotional labor of performing straightness.

Stewart anchors the film with a performance that is both vulnerable and fiery. Her portrayal of Abby’s frustration and longing is palpable, especially in quieter moments, like when she confides in Harper about her parents’ acceptance or when she tearfully recounts her coming-out story to Dan Levy’s John. Stewart’s ability to convey so much with subtle expressions and gestures makes Abby a character worth rooting for. Davis, too, brings depth to Harper, capturing the character’s fear and internalized shame without making her unsympathetic. Their chemistry is undeniable, even if their romance sometimes takes a backseat to the film’s broader themes.

The supporting cast elevates the material further. Steenburgen shines as Tipper, Harper’s well-meaning but oblivious mother, delivering lines with a mix of warmth and cluelessness that makes her both endearing and infuriating. Garber is equally compelling as Ted, whose political ambitions complicate his relationship with Harper. Alison Brie’s Sloane, Harper’s competitive sister, adds another layer of family drama, though her subplot feels underdeveloped at times.

DuVall’s direction is largely sure-footed, balancing humor and heartache with a keen eye for detail. The film’s production design—cozy holiday decor contrasting with the tension in the air—effectively mirrors Abby’s internal struggle. Scenes like the awkward mall outing or the cringe-inducing moment Abby is accused of shoplifting are particularly strong, grounding the story in specificity.

Yet Happiest Season isn’t without its missteps. The pacing falters during the Christmas Eve party scene, which juggles multiple subplots and feels rushed. Sloane’s sudden divorce reveal, for instance, comes out of nowhere and strains credibility. Additionally, while the film tackles heavy themes—homophobia, family rejection, internalized shame—the tone occasionally veers into sentimentality without enough edge.

The romance itself is where the film falters most. While Stewart and Davis share undeniable chemistry, their relationship often feels secondary to the coming-out narrative. Harper’s reluctance to come out, while understandable, sometimes strains belief, making it harder to invest in their love story. More intimate moments or deeper exploration of their shared history could have made their arc more compelling.

Happiest Season is a film that wants to do too much: be a holiday rom-com, a family drama, and a queer coming-out story all at once. It doesn’t always succeed in balancing these elements, but when it does, the result is moving and memorable. The film’s strengths lie in its performances, its authentic portrayal of family dynamics, and its willingness to tackle difficult themes head-on.

In an era where queer representation in Hollywood remains uneven, Happiest Season stands out as a rare major studio-backed rom-com centered on a lesbian couple. While it may not be perfect, its heart is in the right place. The film’s emotional core—captured in scenes like Abby and John’s raw conversation about coming out or Harper’s tearful confession to her family—makes it a worthwhile watch for those seeking holiday cheer with a side of queer realism.

Ultimately, Happiest Season is a film for anyone who has ever felt like an outsider during the holidays, whether due to sexuality, family dynamics, or simply not fitting in.