At first glance, A happy little ex-Mas feels like just another holiday romantic comedy – a heartwarming, predictable love story delivered in a tidy bow. Only in this case this festive packaging consists of a green ribbon. Any environmentally conscious viewers will quickly notice Ex-but this is not just a simple Christmas adventure, but a public service announcement for sustainable living.
Which is why, on the Friday afternoon before Christmas, a few Grist staffers cozied up on their couches to watch a Netflix movie, which our editor assured us was actually a climate film “disguised as holiday romance sap.” Alicia Silverstone (from Distraught fame and real-life sustainability advocate) plays an environmentalist named Kate, an architect turned DIY mom. His passion for the planet—manifested in familiar hippie tropes like composting, thrift shopping, and making decorations from “recycled and found objects”—borders on obsession, in the eyes of his family and friends tortured by sins such as handmade gifts and a carbon-sequestering living Christmas tree.
Secure · Tax deductible · Takes 45 seconds
Secure · Tax deductible · Takes 45 seconds
She has been separated for months from her husband, a small-town doctor named Everett, who once took her to his idyllic hometown of Winterlight, forcing her to abandon her professional dreams in Boston. But enough about him. It barely counts. (Plus, he’s got as much personality as recycled cardboard—maybe that’s why Kate loves him so much.) This movie isn’t so much about their reconciliation as it is a cup of hot chocolate for the souls of neglected, crusty women in their forties who yearn to snuggle up with a movie that whispers: You’re right. You are valued. You were smart about installing all those solar panels.
When we started commenting on the film in Slack, it didn’t take long for each of us to see a little bit of ourselves in the protagonist. She shares her first name with senior editor Kate Yoder, as well as a penchant for long words (like “thermodynamics”) and similar life experiences with associate editor Claire Elise Thompson, who also followed her doctor husband across the country. Teresa Chin, editor-in-chief of Grist, couldn’t help but identify with the anti-materialist mom who champions homemade and second-hand products. Anyone who has given climate change more than a passing thought will likely find something in Kate to relate to.
All the other characters in the film are little more than props or foils for Kate, but two of them caught our attention. One of them was Chet, Kate’s brief fling, a charming himbo who seems to appreciate her interests more than anyone in her life. Chet is to Winterlight what Kirk is to Stars Hollow, seemingly doing every job possible – including, we learn at the end, driving a snowplow as an emergency volunteer. (Their love story would have made for a better movie, if we’re honest.) The other was Kate’s house, nicknamed “The Mothership,” a quaint Victorian home that had us all cooing in the group chat due to its resemblance to the historic house in the film. Practical magic. Spoiler alert: it’s the mothership that really saves the day in the end.
Although the film never explicitly mentions climate change, it is peppered with environmental mentions. There are more references to sustainability than cheesy love scenes. They go beyond the low-hanging fruit to eco-friendly lifestyle products, like worm bins. Kate recommends a neighbor install a heat pump when her boiler breaks. One of his father-in-laws (yes, the family has two gay grandfathers) asks him about geothermal energy. Her husband even calls her by the nickname “Al”, a reference to Al Gore – obviously the only environmentalist he’s ever heard of, aside from Kate.
Kate’s friends and family make fun of her environmental quirks. And perhaps she deserves it a little—for much of the film, she relies on the fun-killing environmentalist trope (at one point, in response to Everett’s new house adorned with energy-guzzling Christmas lights and inflatable lawn decorations, Kate exclaims, “I hear the polar ice caps melting!”) But as the film goes on, it becomes clear how much those close to her admire her and share her values, otherwise in exactly the same way. Her children, for example, admit that her passion inspires them to pursue their own dreams.
And Kate’s preparation comes to fruition when a windstorm knocks out the town’s power, leaving her solar-panel-and-battery-laden house the only one in Winterlight with lights (and, for that matter, heat). Neighbors flock to the mothership as if it were a climate resilience center. Inspired by the warmth of her community, Kate decides not to return to Boston to return to her old job as an eco-architect, but to stay in Winterlight with Everett and start her own sustainability business, which she describes as “making a difference in my community and changing the world, one person at a time.” It is a “think global, act local” model.
As Teresa said during our group discussion about the film: “I mean, let’s call this movie what it was: a fantasy where everyone in your life finally realizes that they were wrong, you’re right, and you’re also living in the Practical magic home during the Christmas period.
A happy little ex-Mas it may not be the romantic comedy of the century – maybe we’ll get the Kate-and-Chet chemistry we deserve in a sequel – but as a heartwarming wish-fulfillment for people who care about the planet, it’s a 10 out of 10.
