The most interesting thing about Operation Christmas Drop is that it’s based on an actual military mission in an actual military base. It is an annual Christmas tradition, which began in 1952, whereby the U.S. Air Force airdrops large crates of essential supplies and “Christmas gifts” to deprived communities across 50 islands throughout the Pacific.
Now, this movie isn’t about the history of that humanitarian effort, but rather a clichéd, predictable, and somewhat insipid rom-com featuring two very pretty leads and a really cheap CG gecko. Unlike Holidate (Netflix’s first holiday movie for 2020), Operation Christmas Drop isn’t offensive in its stupidity. Instead, this movie tries to keep things wholesome by going for sweet, and simple, and nice. It comes off, however, as lifeless and impersonal.
I’ve been trying to find a way to describe these Netflix holiday offerings. While they aren’t quite a genre unto themselves – Hallmark still has the corner on that market; they’re releasing 40 holiday movies this year – these things are slowly becoming significant enough to warrant some sort of label. Like their Hallmark counterparts, they too feature almost all the same tropes: some bigwig is trying to shut down the local factory/department store/mom-and-pop Christmas tree lot, a successful woman who must choose between love and her career, the all work and no play boyfriend, a Christmas that event will save everything, or, as is the case with Operation Christmas Drop, all of the above.
As a rule, Hallmark movies tend to skew conservative and promote traditional values. Their leads are usually white, and while they may not necessarily be agenda-driven, they nevertheless cater to a specific demographic. Where Netflix differentiates itself is by trying to be more politically and culturally progressive. Their movies often feature a far more diverse cast and the stories they tell aren’t limited to the straight white experience of Christmas.
The reality of it, however, is this. Almost all of these movies exist to tick the same boxes. They are a part of the churn, of the long assembly line of movies that are produced to fill a festive timeslot, and to give your grandmother something to watch between October and January of every year. To be clear, I don’t think that either of the writers of Operation Christmas Drop, not Gregg Rossen, not Brian Sawyer, woke up one morning with a strong compulsion to tell this story. This isn’t the story anyone dreams about telling when they dream about making movies.
Erica (Kat Graham) is a Washington aide who has been sent to the island of Guam by her politically ambiguous Congresswoman boss (Virginia Madsen) to assess whether or not Andersen Air Force Base, which is best known not for military action but for a charity initiative called Operation Christmas Drop, should be marked for closure. Erica is hell-bent on nailing this task because it means getting promoted to the Congresswoman’s chief of staff, but her plans are waylaid when the base assigns the hunky and selfless Captain Andrew (Alexander Ludwig) to melt her cold, bean counting heart.
Everything that happens after is pretty much paint-by-numbers. The only way Operation Christmas Drop is going to surprise you is if this is the first movie you’ve ever seen in your life. Ever. (Disclaimer: If you’ve never seen a movie before (ever) and are somehow here and reading this, please don’t mistake my last statement as some sort of endorsement for you to go and watch this. Watch Ghostbusters instead. That’s a great “first” movie.)
The only strong feelings this movie is likely to incite in you depends entirely on how you feel about the United States Military. Operation Christmas Drop, you see, is a cheesy Christmas love story that’s been shoehorned into a 95 minute recruitment advertisement for the Air Force. Everything about this movie is designed to make military life seem fun and breezy. With all of its perfunctory dialogue stemming from that requisite catchphrase of American political life: “God bless America, and God bless our troops.” (Incoming First Lady, Dr. Jill Biden, even has a children’s book called “Don’t Forget, God Bless Our Troops.“)
This is a movie so blatant in its product placement of the American military that its resolution comes with two of the most shameless lines I’ve heard all year. The first is when Erica finally feels what everyone on the base is feeling and says: “Did you see the look on the faces of the Islanders when they saw the planes coming in? I haven’t seen that kind of joy in a very long time.” And then later, when the Scroogey Congresswoman from Washington discovers the true meaning of Christmas: “To see our military making that kind of difference in people’s lives, that was what Christmas should look like.”
Then again, this brazenness is probably what makes Operation Christmas Drop unique. In that it isn’t quite as apolitical as these holiday movies often tend to be. (Which is surprising given how, in the current environment, even wearing a mask in America is seen as making a political statement.) For Netflix to release a movie that’s hoping to win over a global audience, it feels bold to have it rooted in the idea of the American military being a force for good.
Operation Christmas Drop
Netflix
95 minutes
Director: Martin Wood
Writers: Gregg Rossen and Brian Sawyer
Cast: Kat Graham, Alexander Ludwig, Virginia Madsen, Janet Kidder, Jeffrey Joseph, Bethany Brown, Trezzo Mahoro, Rohan Campbell, Aliza Vellani, Aaron Douglas, Xavier De Guzman, and Bruce Best
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