It's a holiday ritual: Each year, American moviegoers get the misanthropically stupid, plastic-satire-of-a-plastic-society Christmas comedy they deserve. In this year's lump of coal, Matthew Broderick is the control freak who lives for toasty yuletide cheer, and Danny DeVito is the vulgar pest who wants his holiday lights seen from space. The dueling-neighbor crankfest is blah, but when DeVito unveils his zillion-watt light show, Deck the Halls touches a timely question: Can Christmas survive the age of technology? Not in this film it can't.
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