Holiday movies are the cinematic equivalent of a warm blanket and apple cider by the fire. They wrap us in predictability, offering cookie-cutter romances and small-town cheer year after year. But every so often, a film attempts to break the mold. The Merry Gentlemen, Netflix’s latest effort to spice up the yuletide formula, does just that. By blending festive cheer with a cheeky, working-class spirit reminiscent of The Full Monty, the film teases the possibility of something unique. Like last week’s delightful surprise Hot Frosty, it quite nobly aims to introduce a fresh twist to the holiday movie genre. But does it deliver on this promise or fall victim to its own contradictions? The answer lies somewhere in between.

When Ashley (Britt Robertson, The Longest Ride), a dancer and long-time star of a famous NYC Christmas Show (that definitely isn’t, but absolutely is, modeled after the Radio City Rockettes), is replaced by a younger model right before the holidays, she nurses her wounds by going home to see her family for the first time in years.  (Never mind that Ashley was aged out looking like she’s yet to graduate high school.) Upon arriving home, her world is further turned upside down when she discovers that her parents’ beloved bar, The Rhythm Room, once a hotbed for traveling musical talent, faces closure.

Desperate to save the venue, Ashley (also a choreographer, as all dancers are) devises a bold plan: assemble an all-male revue from the men who hang around the bar anyway to raise the needed funds. The lineup consists of a ragtag group of local guys, led reluctantly by Luke (Chad Michael Murray, Fruitvale Station), a good-natured contractor who’s more comfortable with a hammer than a spotlight. It’s a premise that jingles with possibility, promising a heartwarming holiday spirit and cheeky entertainment.  Who can resist the awkward charm of underdogs stepping out of their comfort zones?

However, beneath the waxed chests and various themed strips (really just the men getting their shirts off and collecting their cash) lies a story tangled in mixed messages. On the surface, The Merry Gentlemen celebrates creativity and up-from-the-bootstraps fortitude. But dig a little deeper, and the narrative starts to feel unsettlingly regressive. While Ashley is positioned as a determined heroine, the film repeatedly frames her ambition as something that needs tempering to protect Luke’s fragile sense of self. His reluctance to embrace her vision is treated as a legitimate conflict she must navigate rather than a personal obstacle he needs to overcome. It’s a curious choice, particularly in a film marketed to an audience likely craving empowerment alongside entertainment.

Director Peter Sullivan (a frequent director of Netflix features) and screenwriter Marla Sokoloff serve up the expected holiday trimmings: glittery costumes, playful dance montages with feet being stepped on, and the clumsy lunk bartender emerging as an abs-of-steel Adonis (Colt Prattes) all pay service to theundercurrent of romantic sparks flickering between Ashley and Luke. Yet, for all its surface charm, the execution often feels thin. Ashley’s character, though likable, lacks the depth needed to make her journey compelling. Meanwhile, Luke’s transformation—from an aw-shucks contractor to a confident performer—is rushed, leaving little time to savor the payoff. What could have been a touching story of mutual growth instead becomes a muddled commentary on gender roles, with Ashley inexplicably cast as the one who needs to adjust.

The performances, much like the film itself, are a mixed bag. Robertson, known for her effervescent presence, struggles with the broader physical comedy demanded of her. Scenes that showcase Ashley’s determination veer into slapstick territory (where Robertson looks uncomfortable), undercutting the character’s potential authority.  While his chemistry with Robertson never quite ignites, Murray fares better overall, exuding a quiet appeal that makes Luke’s initial impenetrability believable.

The true gift wrapped within this production is Maxwell Caulfield (Grease 2), who proves that charm, like fine wine, only improves with age. Though his dance moves occasionally lag behind his younger costars, his knowing smirk and willingness to poke fun at himself steal every scene he graces.  Unfortunately, the supporting ensemble, including Sokoloff herself, Beth Broderick (One True Loves), and Michael Gross (Tremors), is given little to do beyond playing second fiddle to the central duo.

Where The Merry Gentlemen truly stumbles is in its script, which tries to juggle too many ideas without fully committing to any of them. The premise brims with comedic and dramatic potential—blue-collar guys baring it all for a cause practically writes itself—but the storytelling is hesitant. Instead of leaning into the inherent absurdity of mining deeper emotional stakes, the film plays it safe, delivering a series of predictable beats that feel less developed than the meticulously chiseled torsos on display.

What’s most fascinating about The Merry Gentlemen isn’t its quality but its very existence. Netflix has clearly identified an untapped market: viewers craving holiday stories with a dash of sensuality alongside traditional seasonal sentiment. The streaming giant seems to recognize that between Hallmark’s chaste kisses under the mistletoe and more adult-oriented fare, there’s room for something that splits the difference – even if this attempt doesn’t land as intended.  With its shirtless leading men and flirtation with racier themes, The Merry Gentlemen is a playful, if not particularly daring, addition to the platform’s December lineup. It might not be the sort of film that leaves a lasting impression, but it fills a void for viewers looking for something spicier than snowball fights near gazebos and sugar cookies dipped in hot cocoa.

Still, it’s hard not to wish for more. More nuance in the characters, more bite in the humor, and more courage in the storytelling. The best holiday films—Love Actually, Elf, even going back to The Full Monty if you stretch the definition—transcend their seasonal trappings by offering something universally resonant. The Merry Gentlemen, by contrast, feels content to remain a novelty, like eating a candy cane in July: unexpected, mildly amusing, but ultimately forgettable.

Ultimately, The Merry Gentlemen is an uneven experiment for Netflix, and you might wonder who this film was made for. Its community and creative risk-taking themes seem geared toward female viewers, yet its messaging about ambition and pride feels oddly counterintuitive to that audience. The contradiction prevents the movie from becoming more than the sum of its glittering parts. And yet, for viewers willing to overlook these flaws, there’s fun to be had. Abs, awkward laughs, and a dash of holiday cheer can go a long way—just don’t expect this particular cocktail to leave you buzzing.