Adam Volerich's Directorial Debut, Drink and Be Merry: A Christmas Movie for Those Who Usually Abstain (from Christmas Movies)

DRINK AND BE MERRY 

(Adam Volerich, 2025, USA, 

97 minutes) 

For those with a minimal tolerance for holiday fare, Drink and Be Merry just might be your new favorite Christmas movie. 

Though it's hardly as dreamy or surrealistic, Adam Volerich's low-budget debut is a worthy successor to Tyler Taormina's 2024 Christmas Eve in Miller's Point in terms of its strikingly original approach to a holiday that presents emotional, financial, and other challenges for some of us. 

Not to be a total Grinch, but my patience for Christmas songs, movies, and tropes that I've seen and heard over and over again for decades on end grows thinner every year, so I get pretty excited when a film deviates so clearly from the usual cutesy, materialistic, or soap operatic playbook.

The $80,000 film also looks and sounds fantastic, thanks to top-flight cinematography from Volerich and Jack Mannion and production design from Christina Coleman. The glowing Christmas lights help, but all of the spaces are inviting, and the filmmaker, a podcaster and Rutgers professor, makes inventive choices involving black and white stock and practical effects. 

The use of chapters and minimal sets lends Drink and Be Merry the feel of a filmed play, somewhat comparable to Richard Linklater's recent Sardi's-set Blue Moon–which was filmed entirely on a sound stage in Richard Rodgers actor Andrew Scott's native Ireland–though considerably more down-scale and rooted-in-real locations.

I won't say too much about the plot, since this is mostly a dialogue-driven piece, though compared to Peter Hujar's Day, which revolves around two people in one apartment, Drink and Be Merry is practically maximalist–no shade whatsoever to Ira Sachs' two-hander, which I greatly enjoyed. 

Volerich, whose name may be unfamiliar, has filled his feature with familiar faces from numerous films and television shows, and the entire cast is very good, especially Yellowstone actor Jefferson White, who co-produced. 

Basically, we spend a few days around Christmas 2019 with White's down-on-his-luck actor Chet, mostly at the New Jersey dive bar he owns and operates, but also at the second-story apartment he shares with his "Ma" (a warm and delightful Siobhan Fallon Hogan). 

Along with White and Hogan, I was particularly struck by the way the film doubles as a character actor showcase, and every performer, in all their idiosyncrasies, gets the chance to shine. These mostly post-middle-aged actors deserve bigger parts than what they usually get, and they earn Volerich's faith, especially The Wire veterans Delaney Williams, who played Jay Landsman, and Brian Anthony Wilson, who played Det. Vernon Holley. Between the two, they–mostly Wilson–have 284 credits at the IMDb. 

Really, though, they're all impressive. Actor and stuntman Billy Smith (pictured above left) has appeared in two Martin Scorsese and two Clint Eastwood films, whereas actress and writer Sophie Zucker (Dickinson, The Chair Company) adds some prickly, youthful energy to the proceedings.

To be clear, Chet, who strung up the lights, loves Christmas, though he doesn't love his life, which hasn't turned out quite like he hoped, but it's the older regulars who supply most of the film's hard-bitten, low-key comedy.

Though they tease Chet about his Christmas cheer and his one lousy bit part, they see him as someone who still has time to get himself out of the ruts in which they feel stuck. If you can't tell, this is also a film about the way men talk to each other about sensitive issues, mostly by talking around them or by making jokes that aren't really jokes, because it's easier than being open and vulnerable.

Granted, romance even blooms for one of these sadsacks before sputtering out. Still, it's better to have a moment of happiness than none at all. 

Nonetheless, this isn't a depressing film, even if it isn't as jolly as your average Christmas outing--not least because most everyone has a problem with the bottle, though that's a given with a barfly film. If anything, the bartender and his customers have each other, which is also better than having no one at all. One even turns out to have a pretty great partner, and a mishap near the end suggests he might stop taking her for granted. 

If the characters are throwbacks in terms of language and belief systems, Volerich shows them learning to become more open-minded. Though I wouldn't describe the film as a noir or as an homage to independent filmmaking in 1970s New York, it may appeal to fans of those forms. 

The closest analogue that comes to mind isn't a Christmas movie at all, but rather the Ross brothers' hybrid documentary Bloody Nose, Empty Pockets, which takes place entirely in a set-bound dive. 

To quote the director's statement: "You know this bar. Maybe you were a regular. Maybe you were just passing through. But you sat, and you sipped all the same. The Bartender treated you well. The Barflies bantered with each other. And the Jukebox was already playing someone else's song. Wood paneling. Dirty bathrooms. Cheap drinks. No food. Cash Only."

If you spark to that description of the many dive bars across the country that have stumbled, struggled, and shuttered due to the pandemic, gentrification, and other obstacles, I recommend seeking this one out.

Drink and Be Merry is making its way across the US. No Seattle dates, but it's available on VOD and DVD through X4 Pictures. Images: Adam Volerich.