An instant addition to any quality top ten list of favorite Christmas movies, the latest familial Grand Guignol to hatch from the superior mind of Pablo Larrain follows Jackie in the director’s “tortured royalty” trilogy. (A capper is in the works, the subject as yet unnamed. How ‘bout Dolores Hope?) I’d sooner break bread with the majorly dysfunctional clan on hand in the director’s Tony Manero’s than chill with these stiff upper-lipped upright icebergs. (What do Prince Charles and Joe Kennedy have in common? Both invited their mistresses to dine at family functions.) The action plays out over the course of the holiday weekend, a hellish time for the princess’ royal case of PTSD to peak. No adult in the room will dare extend so much as a sympathetic glance her way. Her only “friend” is her dresser Maggie (Sally Hawkins, in a role once reserved for Thelma Ritter), her only playmates, her two young sons. The director told Vulture that he “couldn't care less about helping audiences ‘understand’ a character like Diana.” But Larrain clearly extends more sympathy her way than he did Mrs. Kennedy. (Jackie ends with its subject sharing the frame with a department store mannequin.) It’s the director’s warmest, most compassionate work to date. But I’d still recommend bringing a muffler and gloves to the multiplex. (2021) — Scott Marks
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