JACK FROST

• Starring Michael Keaton and Kelly Preston
• Directed by Troy Miller
• Rated PG, with mild profanity; running time 95 minutes
• With 10 as a must-see, Jack gives this film a 3

By Jack Garner
Democrat and Chronicle

(Dec. 11, 1998) -- "Well, I guess Snow-Dad is better than no Dad."

That memorably bad line of dialogue sums up the well-intentioned but silly premise of Jack Frost, the new holiday family film with Michael Keaton.

Keaton stars as Jack Frost, a veteran blues-rock musician whose band is on the verge of success. But all those nights on the road have kept Jack from his wife, Gabby (Kelly Preston), and their 11-year old son, Charlie (Joseph Cross). He's missed key events in the boy's life, including his hockey games.

One night Jack returns from the road in time to help Charlie build a snowman in the front yard. Then, as he puts his son to bed, Jack gives him his prize possession: his first blues harmonica.

"Whenever you play this, no matter where I am, I can hear it," he tells Charlie.

Soon after, Jack is killed in a car crash. A year later, Charlie builds another snowman, blows on the harmonica, and -- Hollywood being what it is -- Dad's spirit is reincarnated in the frosty creation. And he's a snowman with a mission: to make up lost time with his boy.

So far, so good. Or at least not terrible. You might have enough of an idea here for a 10-minute short. But once Pop is three large balls of snow, what do you do with him? Jack Frost gets sillier and sillier as the snowman helps Charlie win a snowball fight, leads him on a wild snowboard chase in the Colorado Rockies and escorts him to a family getaway in a mountain cottage.

Oh, and how could I forget that wonderful father-son moment when the snowman teaches Charlie a trick shot to use in hockey? And the time a dripping Snow-Dad risks his life to stand in a hot arena so he can watch his boy win the big game?

As ideas go, Jack Frost has about as much chance as a snowball in hell. It requires a director with a deft touch and a lot of imagination, and Troy Miller demonstrates neither. The film is as klunky and heavy-handed as it is corny -- with the seams plainly visible between real-life location snow scenes and fake Christmas Card studio sets.

Though credit for the snowman effects are shared by the best in the business -- Jim Henson's Creature Shop and Industrial Light and Magic -- the results are clumsy. Only the fast-paced snow-boarding sequence has much life. That scene, at least, will entertain most kids.

Keaton is completely plausible as a blues musician and struggling father, but he's onscreen for only 15 minutes or so. The rest of the time you just hear his voice coming out of the snowman.

Keaton has a lot of talent; I hope somebody finds a way to use it. This ain't it.

It's a pleasure to see Mark Addy (the heavy-set heart of The Full Monty) as Jack's bandmate and best friend, but he, too, is largely wasted. So is Kelly Preston as Jack's widow. (By the way, why does Jack come back to spend so much time with his son, yet barely spares 30 seconds for his beloved wife?)

Few movies can survive a premise this dumb and writing this sappy. Even the best intentions can't keep Jack Frost from melting.