Jackson, on the other hand, says things like "chicks go mental on the holidays" and "girls get clingy".
Now tell me, which of these characters do you like so far? None, right? Correct.
Anyway, Sloane and Jackson meet while queuing to exchange Christmas gifts at a store and go on to become each other's platonic dates for every holiday, to get their family and friends off their backs about finding love. Except, in a plot twist even my one blind eye saw was coming, they fall for each other (awwww).
The premise is flimsy at best. If they were going to be each other's dates to stop their friends and relatives from asking about their love life, the whole plan should be disrupted by the fact they told everyone they're each other's platonic holidate.
It was my mistake: I had high expectations for Holidate because I'm a sucker for a portmanteau and because Netflix kept putting it right at the top of my recommendations. It turns out Netflix knows nothing about me and what I like.
I almost cancelled my subscription when it got to the bit where Sloane and Jackson do the Dirty Dancing bit at the club because, honestly, that's a sacred moment in the history of the seventh art and how dare they touch it?
I was looking online for an image to add to this review and came across a link with the headline: "Why Do Critics Hate Netflix's Holidate With Emma Roberts?" and, spoiler alert, it's because it sucks.
There's some good acting in there, but that's about it. There are no moments of true comedy and there are no moments of true romance, so to call it a romcom is just misleading.
It is a parade of cliches that peaks with a grandiose love declaration in front of a crowd inside a mall, the movie offers nothing new to the Christmas romcom genre.
As if sitting through the movie isn't enough, you get a montage in the epilogue showing what happened to the characters once the movie finished - as if any of us care by then.
