Netflix original film Holidate dropped Wednesday October 28, 2020.
ππ#Holidate held the #1 US spot for 5 days in a row.
rottentomatoes: 45%
metacritic: 44
imdb: 6.2
Sloane
Sloane endures the holiday dating scene outside of Chicago, Illinois.
“Fucking Holidays. Hmm. Merry Christmas. I’m great, mom. Thanks. House looks beautiful. Hi. Oh! Wow. I’m sorry, but I cannot date a professional clown. I’d never sleep. It’s called working remote, mother. My boss doesn’t care what I wear as long as I meet my quota. He does, however, request that my mother stop FaceTiming me during business hours. Uh… no, mom. I’m not still smoking. I had a smoky Uber. Well, no man wants a bitchy mother-in-law. So, I guess that’s three strikes. Stop it. I’m not sad. Uh-uh. I’m not sad.” — Sloane
“Hmm. I don’t think I would actually. A ‘holidate?'” — Sloane
“Yeah? No, thank you. I prefer the singles table. Why didn’t you call Rodney? Good for you, Daisy. You enjoy it while you can, because one day you are gonna walk outside, and you’re gonna catch Levi sharing his juice box with a Starbucks barista named ‘Rainbow.’ Yeah, it’s not a good day, Daisy. It hurts. It hardens you. And the next thing you know, you’re just south of 30, sitting at the kids table, numbing the pain with a vodka.” — Sloane
“Ooh! Pajamas. Who wants dessert? Fuck no. Wow, this is… awesome. My little brother getting married. Wow! I just… love these pajamas.” — Sloane
“Excuse me! Crocodile Dundee, some of us have jobs. You’re at the mall on a Wednesday returning slacker pants. Hopefully, you mean khakis and still don’t care. Hi, there. I just have a quick return. They didn’t come with a receipt. Just the assumption that I would be alone forever and, apparently, gorge myself into the size of a lumberjack. You know what? My Christmas already sucked. So, you can go ‘nail it’ somewhere else. I’ll see your ugly Christmas sweater, and raise you a seat at the kids table, my little brother getting engaged, and catching my aunt getting her cookie licked by a mall santa. Seared into my brain like a bad tattoo. Is that… Matt Lauer? $4.99? Four dollars and ninety-nine cents. My sister has become so cheap since having kids. Hey! I might. I have a crafty side. Forty-five! And the pretzels, two-for-one.” — Sloane
“You don’t want any? Yeah. It fills me with warm, delicious happiness. Like Christmas used to, before I realized Santa was a big scam. Hmm. My best Christmas… was a Barbie Dream House, preassembled, and a ventriloquist puppet named Lester. He looked like Jaleel White. I sort of had a thing for Urkel. I spent months learning to throw my voice. No. Did I do that? Did I do that? Oh, he sleeps with me every night. Oh, God! Oh, God! No! That is the guy my aunt brought home for Christmas. He was her holidate. Just some guy she picked up at the mall to spend Christmas with. Easter, New Year’s… she’s an equal opportunity holi-dater. You can try, but this late in the game, he’s probably booked. Yeah? Well, try being the only single person left in your family. Every time I walk into a room, I’m showered in a sea of pity and sad glances. I mean, why is everyone so suspicious of a happy, single woman? Yes, I am. Hmm … happy. I do enjoy drunk-mocking strangers at parties. I don’t even know you, so… wow! Calm down with the flattery. Goodbye! ‘Pity,’ not ‘pathetic.’ Wait, really? That’s such a fun party. Ugh! What makes you sure I’m not batshit? Sloane. ‘Gold pro?’ What’s your real job? Not texting you, Tiger Woods. Not texting you!” — Sloane
“Uh… I’m almost finished. We are right on target for Q3, and– I’ll have those numbers teed up first thing in the morning. I’m sorry. Can I… call you back? Yeah. Mom, I’m working! I’m wearing makeup! Goodbye, mother.” — Sloane
“I think the leather-vest-mate’s up now. Hoping to be wife number three. Rented tuxedo. He’s just drenched in sweat. Wow. You’re good. Thanks. That’s why I bought it. That’s really sweet of you to notice. And I can wear a slutty dress and not worry about being slut-shamed. Hmm. Aunt Susan? Hi. Wow. Hi. Pass. Thanks. I need a drink.” — Sloane
“There’s just no way her character would ever do that. Uh-uh. It was cockamamie. Well, it’s the only word I know that accurately describes every romantic comedy in history. There’s always some fake reason they can’t be together, when you know they’re gonna be together from the poster. It’s like, ‘oh, boo-hoo. I’m so heartbroken. Even though you’re perfect for me, I’m taking a break from dating.’ I mean, no one is ever… taking a break from dating! And let me tell you, if Ryan Gosling waltzed in here, picked me up, floated me around to the theme of Dirty Dancing, I’m not gonna be like, ‘oh, hey, Ryan, buddy, bad timing. I’m taking a break from dating.’ I am jumping on that train. The Ryan Gosling train. I’d rather not go there. What? Luc. Luc. No. He was handsome, smart, French. He wore these sexy, little John Lennon glasses. Did triathlons. Man, he had stamina. Hmm. Nothing much. We just wanted different things. I wanted someone to take home for the holidays, and he wanted to text photos of his cock to the girl that made his double macchiato, so… ha! Well, it was my fault. He was too hot to be trustworthy. ‘Always dat down.’ That’s what my sister says. I didn’t listen. Hmm. I gotta pee.” — Sloane
“Hi. Don’t ask. Come on. Oh! What? No! Nobody drops Baby on her head. Happy New Year. Yeah. I mean, not the worst night of my life. That’s in two months. Hmm. Flattered, but two months is a long time. You know, a lot could happen before then. And if not, I have a standing date a candy store. So, I’m good. Happy New Year.” — Sloane
“Don’t say it like I just told you I have cancer. No, it’s Thursday. And I’m gonna take a long, hot bath, pop a bottle of pinot, treat myself to a few pounds of chocolate, and who knows, maybe even watch a little porn. You should especially watch porn on Valentine’s Day. Forget it. I’m not dating someone my other sets me up with. Yeah, but it was a one-time thing. Yep. Uh, no. He can’t even speak English. You should hear him say ‘khaki.’ He says it like, ‘khakis.’ Look, I’m perfectly happy being single. I get to do what I want when I want, and I don’t have to deal with the stress of shaving and plucking and waxing. The wedding’s in eight months. Everyone needs to mind their own business. My romantic status and personal hygiene are completely under control. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an obscene amount of candy to buy. Ooh. Mmm.” — Sloane
“Luc? My God. How are you? Oh, I– I don’t work here. No. I’m not. Um… stop this. Stop. Stop. It. Mm-hmm. Wow. Yeah. Yeah. Good to see you.” — Sloane
“I’m gonna be sick. Ugh, now I’m for sure gonna be sick. Who cares? It’s all downhill after 40. Who wants an extra 80 years of the worst part of life? Why does the next girlfriend always have to be younger and hotter? Is it like some kind of unwritten law? Wait, that’s it. He’s afraid. Dating Felicity is a cry for help. Maybe a little. Those bourbon truffles are stronger than I thou– I took this. I stole it! Well, I’m not going back there, so… we may as well destroy the evidence. Seriously? Golf is the least athletic sport on the planet. Maybe. But Lebron doesn’t need a tiny car to take him up and down the court. Come on. Don’t be such a pussy. Oh, my God, you really are a pussy. You’re right. Thank you. I owe you. Oh, a hand job. What are you, like, 12? I developed early.” — Sloane
“Is that enough or do you want more? Stop moving. I’m almost done. Hold on, hold on. You have baby wipes? No, I’m not. Do you want a cigarette? No. Not really, just, like, sometimes. A little tobacco never killed anybody. Ex-boyfriend, and these are not pajamas. They’re lounge pants. Believe it or not, this isn’t the worst Valentine’s Day of my life. I don’t know. I guess I was just embarrassed to admit that nothing had changed since New Year’s. Look, whatever. At least the biggies are behind us. I mean, Christmas, New Year’s, Valentine’s Day. It would be nice to bring someone home for Easter. What about sex? No, I’m serious. Friends with benefits never works. Us? And men are hardwired to panic and flee. Oh!” — Sloane
Jackson Piretti
“Your parents know this is only our third date, right? Pictures? Charming. Oh, no. It’s fine. I won’t be staying over. Fuck am I?”
“What the hell is wrong with you? You told them– you told your parents we’re a couple? I… a clapper? Look, I told you my parents are in Australia. I didn’t have any other… …plans.”
“Hey! Pants. Pants… and a project. Thanks! I’m sorry. I really didn’t… think we’re doing the whole present thing. Because you said we’re not doing the whole present thing. I– I could give you some cash. I’ve got, what– what have I got left? Forty bucks? No! God, no! Absolutely not. What the– I’m not giving you $80. I can’t believe that you’d ambush me like this in front of your parents! Actually, you know what? I can. ‘Cause chicks go mental on the holidays. Lovely evening, guys. Beautiful dinner. Have a merry Christmas. Cheers.”
“I’ve been in line over half an hour. Please– I don’t want a store credit. I want to never have to return to this store. Dundee. Original. Hang on. What makes you think I don’t have a job? Uh… these happen to be khakis. Lots of employed people wear khaki pants. Nailed it. This is like 80 bucks worth of pants. No deal. Hey, if it’s any consolation, I spent my holiday in an ugly Christmas sweater, sipping mocktails with a room full of people who I think were in a cult. That’s a… festive visual. Fifty bucks for everything. Like you’re making capri pants. Okay.”
“I don’t eat that crap. Do you know what that does to your body? Yeah. Christmas peaked for me at about ten. I got a surfboard and my first complete set of golf clubs. It was good. Hmm? Well, come on, let’s hear it. Excuse me. I bought you a free pretzel. So, you owe me an Urkel. Come on. Come on. Nice. What happened to Lester? What? Is that an ex-boyfriend of yours or something? That’s the cookie licker? Wait. What’s a Holidate? Wait, just Christmas or all holidays? That’s what I need for New Year’s Eve. No. Seriously, I am done casually dating on the holidays. There’s way too much pressure. It’s ridiculous. I always end up being the asshole at the end of the day, anyway. Because you’re obviously not happy. No, you’re not. Human beings aren’t meant to be alone on the holidays. We actually need warmth, companionship, and someone to drunk-mock strangers with at parties. Well, then, this is perfect! We can be each other’s holidate for New Year’s Eve. Yeah, well, that’s what makes it perfect. ‘Cause there’s no pressure. There’s no expectations. I mean… I don’t even think I find you that attractive. Not that you’re not attractive. It’s just that maybe… you’re not that attractive to me. Okay, wait a second. You just said that you’re tired of all the sad glances and looking pathetic. Okay, tomato, tomato. I’ve got tickets to the Skyfall party. Yeah. Oh, come on, then say yes. I just wanna go. I wanna relax, have a few drinks. Not worry about my date going batshit if I don’t drop a knee at midnight. You had me at Lester. I’m Jackson, by the way. Nice to meet you, Sloane. Here are my details. Just think about it and text me. Think about it. Just send me a text.”
“Didn’t you? Why are you using my account anyway? Know what the problem is with girls? They’re real, and… I don’t need a real girl. I need a holidate. Hello? I thought I said text me, not call me.”
“Oh, okay, he’s an options trader. Divorced. Two kids at Northwestern. She was his decorator on the new condo. Very good. Very good. Ooh, uh, white satin ruffles. They are definitely getting engaged at midnight. It’s a gift. By the way, your tits look exceptional in that dress. Love the way it hugs your ass, too. This is great. I love it. I just can say whatever I want ’cause I don’t care if you think I’m a classy guy or not. What a holidate bonus. Ooh. Okay, so he is a sexually confused art student with mommy issues. And she’s a wealthy widow with a taste for bondage. Hi. That’s what I said. I’d love to see that. Your aunt seems nice.”
“Who cares? It was funny. I’m sorry, no one uses that word anymore. I’d jump on the Ryan Gosling train. So, who was the dickhead that ruined romantic comedies for you? We’re already here. What’s his name? Bill? Fred? Carlos? Juan? Bob? What? Luc? Oh, he sounds like a wanker. Ugh… so, what happened? Ouch.”
“Woo-hoo! Nobody puts Baby in a corner. All right, everyone, move back. Oh, shit! Whoa… I’m gonna take a piss. Shit. Sorry. Happy New Year. You know, tonight didn’t suck. I actually had a fairly decent time. What are you doing for Valentine’s? Yeah, I know, but if I lock in plans now, then maybe I won’t end up doing anything stupid. Sure. Hmm, okay. Sure. Good night then. Happy New Year.”
“Hey, love muffin! I thought you were gonna meet me in Brookstone and try out those massagers. Good day, I’m Jackson. I’m Sloane’s little boy toy of the moment, you know? I’m just trying to nail her down long-term, but you know, she’s such a strong and independent woman. Fingers crossed. Wow. So, you two are just beautiful. I mean– are we done here, babe? Because I had some big plans for you in Victoria’s Secret. Shall we go? Gonna get the thing. Perfect. Okay. Lovely to meet you. Seriously, all the best. Thank you. Bye, Felicia.”
“Just breathe. Hey, here. Some tissues. Now drink this. It’s green juice. It’s good for you. You know, the human body is capable of living to about 120 years if you take care of it. Well, if you got a Felicity in your life… sorry, that was a low blow. Well, you now, normally, the younger and hotter the girl, the less chance of commitment, so… in a way, it’s actually a compliment. What are you, drunk? Uh… no, I don’t eat that crap. I’m a professional athlete. I’ll have you know that golf requires more precise muscle control and hand-eye coordination than football and basketball combined. It’s weird when girls say pussy. Well, if I wasn’t such a pussy, you’d be stuck in a candy store talking to your ex-boyfriend and his smoking hot new girlfriend. So, you’re welcome, by the way. Hmm. That’s better. Now, I’ll take my handjob in the parking lot. Thank you. You gave hand jobs at 12?”
“Oh, my God, it’s so good. More. This chocolate is good. Oh, my God, you were not kidding. Shit! Shit, it’s all over my pants. Um, yeah, in my glove box next to the diapers. Oh, my God, you’re a bad influence. You smoke? Mm, pretty sure it has. Look, I get it, okay? It sucks running into your boyfriend on Valentine’s Day, in a candy store, wearing pajamas. Hmm. Why didn’t you just call me? Isn’t that the point of this holidate thing that we get to avoid this stupid pressure and all the judgement? Yeah, I’m telling you, the small ones are just as risky. I once spent an Earth Day chained to a tree with a chick from Greenpeace. It was the longest ten days of my life. So, let’s make it official. Holidates until further notice? Will Lester be joining us? Yeah, but that’s because you girls get clingy and always want more. Well, yeah. It’s not your fault. Women are hardwired to attach and procreate. Okay, fine. So, we agree. Non-sexual holidates from now on. Now… coconut cluster. Hmm? Now…”
Elaine
“Ah! This is what you wear to Christmas dinner? Don’t you even own a dress? Well, your Aunt Susan brought at-the-mall-Santa home. And your nephew just pooped in the manger. Gingerbread elf? How does she expect to meet anybody when she sits around the house wearing pajamas? You’re not still smoking, are you? Well, I know the holidays can be stressful, but no man wants to marry a smoker… who lies.”
“Ah! Two down, one to go! Yes!”
“That’s what you wear to work? You could at least put on a nice top. Honey, I want you to meet someone. This is my new neighbor, Faarooq. Faarooq is a doctor, and he’s single. She’s much prettier with makeup. Faarooq is free on New Year’s– and so, I thought that–“
Abby
“Ugh. It was a tiny poop, and he moved the baby Jesus first. Hi. Merry Christmas. Hey! Um, Rodney said you didn’t call him. Jesus, Sloane, it’s been six months. You gotta get back out there.”
“Sloane. Stop being a baby. We can put the leaf in. All right, kids, let’s check on presents. Come on. Let’s go.”
“Hey! Yes! I thought they were so cute and cozy for, like, a girl’s night in. Congratulations.”
“What about the mall guy? You had fun on New Year’s. He said that? Ick. Ugh, best thing about marriage, no more waxing. I bet Rodney’s still available. Okay.”
Aunt Susan
“Isn’t he great? I met him at the mall. You’d be surprised at the quality of men you can meet at the mall. Relax. It’s not like I’m going to marry him. He’s just my holidate. You know, a date solely for the holiday. No commitment. Want me to see if he has a friend?”
“Sloane! Oh, baby. Your tits look great in that dress. This is… Ronnie. We met at the Art Institute. I was a nude model for his figure sculpting class. He made me the most perfect clay clitoris. Like a butterfly taking flight. You have to see it. That can be arranged. Well, Happy New Year, you kids. Have fun. Come on, Francois.”
Neil
“Almost got me on that one. No. Nope! Okay. Eh… nope. Maybe! No. Uh-uh. Mm. How do you say ‘no’ in Italian? ‘No, grazie.’ Nah. Oh. Oh! She is fine! And she got a little baby goat! Didn’t you hook up with her last month at the pro-am? Oh, I did! She must’ve left the goat at home. I should give her a call– because I told you, I have some obsessive exes that just can’t get rid of this. Okay? They got these crazy eyes, right? You said a what-a-date? What’s ‘holidate?’ Is that a new app I need to download? I cannot keep up.”
York
“Woo-hoo hoo-hoo! You know it’s a holiday when my sister shows up alone.”
“Could I have everyone’s attention? There’s something that I need to say. Elizabeth Kimberly Chen… I know it’s only been three months and six heavenly days, but I feel like I’ve known you my entire life. Will you make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?”
Liz
“Don’t rub it in. She’s obviously sad. Are you sure? You look really sad.”
“Oh! Oh, my gosh! Yes! Yes, I’ll marry you!”
“What do you mean, you don’t have a date for Valentine’s Day? But it’s Valentine’s Day. You can’t watch porn on Valentine’s Day! Ugh! So, what is that cute doctor? What’s his name, Faarooq? You should call him. Were you attracted to him? Okay. Well, what about the wedding? You can’t be alone at the wedding. And you’re already letting yourself go. Oh, God. Please text him.”
Peter
“Boom! One sanitized manger. Aw, Sloane. Best Christmas ever!”
Carly
“Don’t be nervous. They’ll love you. Oh, my God. It’s not a big deal. Actually, I don’t think they know you’re coming. Hi! Merry Christmas!”
“God, my parents love you! Oh, come on. You know you like me. You wouldn’t be here on a major holiday if you didn’t like me.”
“They’re khakis! Because golfers love khakis, right? I didn’t know the size so I got three, but you can exchange them. Why would you think that? Oh! I see. So, you know me well enough to cum in my mouth, but you don’t know me well enough to get me a Christmas present? Forty bucks? What am I prostitute? I’ll take 80. But we had sex, Jackson! Twice! I cannot believe that you didn’t get me a Christmas present!”
Carly’s dad
“Merry Christmas!”
Carly’s mom
“Merry Christmas! Oh, and you must be Jackson. You’re even more handsome than in the pictures! Oh, and her first time on Santa’s lap. She peed through to Santa’s leg. Ah, first ballet recital and… oh! This is the day she got her first period. Oh, and this one… was for Little Miss Evanston. You should know, Carly’s father and I are perfectly comfortable with you two sleeping together in here. Nonsense. You’re practically family.”
Daisy
“So… Aunt Sloane, why didn’t you call Rodney? Because I already have a boyfriend. His name is Levi, and he shares his juice box with me every day at recess.”
Retail Customer 1
“What’s the hold up? Come on, dude! I’ll give you 40 bucks for those khakis, and a Fresh Pretzel, two-for-one. I got a bad tattoo once. I was a really big fan of the Today Show. It’d be really cute if you cut off the legs, like capri pants. Forty.”
Retail Customer 2
“This is ridiculous.”
Retail Merchant
“I’m sorry, without a gift receipt I can only offer you a store credit. We have some really cute stuff. Have you tried our authentic skinny jeans? Receipt? Uh, I need to go check on these. Sorry, these are from two seasons ago. I can offer you a store credit at the current sales price of… $4.99!”
Scruffy Santa
“Hey, Sloane! Tell your aunt Susan to call me!”
Faarooq
“Hello.”
Robert
“Robert. Hello.”
Club Bride
“Oh, my God. It looks like I got stabbed. I can’t get engaged wearing this dress. A flower of blood. Oh, my God. I’m Carrie. all my life, I wanted to be proposed to on New Year’s Eve. And now it’s ruined. Let’s just go. Oh, my God. You look so beautiful. Thank you! Oh, my God. Yes! Yes! Yes! I love you! I love you! I love you!”
Bridesmaid
“It’s just wine. It’s okay. It’s not that bad. Right.”
Bridesmaid 2
“Yeah. It kind of looks like a flower. Oh… listen, he loves you. Okay? He’s still gonna propose.”
Bridesmaid 3
“I’ll trade with you.”
Club Patron
“Yes! Do it! Boobs! Boobs!”
Club Crowd
“Go! Go! Go!”
Club Proposal
“Will you marry me?”
Club Announcer
“All right, y’all! Are y’all ready for a new year, Chicago? Yeah! All right. Grab your sweethearts, and let’s do this thing, baby! Come on, y’all! And… nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one!”
Luc
“Sloane? What is– hmm. Yeah. Oh, no. No. Darling, this is Sloane. We were lovers for a few months. I’m Luc, and, uh… this is Felicity. Thank you.”
Felicity
“Baby, taste this. How amazing. My tongue is having a major orgasm right now. Do these come in any other in any other flavors? Sorry. I thought you were stocking the shelves or something. Oh, lucky you. Isn’t he amazing in bed? He’s like the Terminator, only I’m the one who never stops coming. It’s Felicity.”