Jim Carrey sinks his gnarly frost-bitten teeth deep into the hermit role of the Grinch, an angry social outcast with a puny heart and a scruffy dog named Max. Carrey extracts ten times more empathy, confusion, and glee than the reductive cartoon version ever did. Sir Anthony Hopkins provides a subtle and non-distracting reading of the accompanying voice-over narration that puts rhyme and lilt under the splendidly goofy action on screen. But it’s the debut of seven year-old Taylor Momsen as the adorable Cindy Lou Who that gives the movie its delicate emotional spine. Momsen’s wide-eyed innocence belies her advanced skills as a young actress able to temper her natural charm with centeredness and conviction. The chemistry between Carrey’s far-flung character and Momsen’s angelic ability to poke and persuade extends the original story into a much richer study of generosity and understanding.

Howard’s film will, no doubt, receive a degree of slamming by critics who view the film as too menacing and sexually loaded for very young kids, while being too juvenile for older kids and adults to enjoy. But I suspect few audiences will take issue with the sophisticated and detailed look of the movie. In one scene, Cindy Lou’s mom Betty Lou Who attempts to outdo her bombshell neighbor Martha May Whovier in decorating her house with Christmas lights. It’s not long before Martha emerges dressed in a flattering elf costume to use her newly acquired light shooter in firing off a stream of lights onto the trim of her house. Betty Lou’s competitive attempt to go beyond keeping up with the Jonses is cut short by technology and glamour in a way that stakes out the winking game plan of the movie. Under every piece of twisting scenery is a gentle nudge toward Howard’s primary focus on achieving an emotional intonation with humor and loving detail. There’s a cumulative effect that hits you about two-thirds through the movie where your brain adapts to the abundant mix of weird architecture, jaunty humor, and pug-faced characters and you don’t want it to ever end.

The air of anti-capitalist holiday cheer that blows through the tiny snowflake town of Whoville is reason enough for audiences to choose spending their hard-earned money on entertainment over property or gifts. Cindy Lou Who is the one little soul in Whoville who wants to share more than anything else. She naturally gravitates toward the most necessary action available; to share her company with the loneliest person she knows. In so doing Cindy Lou sets an example that liberates the Grinch, Martha May Whovier, and the whole town of Whoville. If only the men vying for the presidency of our country had the same noble intentions, perhaps we, as Americans, would all see something stronger in our fellow man. I suppose that’s just too much to ask. You have to go to Whoville to be a part of that kind of thing. At least there’s a fun holiday movie around that can take you that kind of place to share with someone who may or may not be lonely. You can even pick out the tongue-in-cheek references to movies like The Ice Storm, The Wizard of Oz, and Benji.

Buddy Amaral (Ben Affleck - Shakespeare In Love) is a cocky successful advertising executive who gives away his plane ticket to Greg Janello (Tony Goldwyn), a newly made friend at a Dallas airport, only to find out later that the plane crashed killing the man. Buddy descends into alcoholism and goes through a 12-step rehabilitation program before becoming curious about Abby Janello (Gwyenth Paltrow - Sliding Doors), Greg Janello’s widow. Buddy arranges to meet Abby, whereupon she decides to pursue a romantic relationship. Buddy remains conflicted about his place with Abby and when to reveal the truth about his uncomfortable role in her husband’s death.

As formulaic as the story is, Roos takes welcome sidetracks that emphasize classic societal issues in an acutely modern context. There’s a clear viewpoint on the outside forces that put additional pressure on the couple’s relationship. For example, Buddy works for the ad company that handles Infinity Airlines, the same company whose plane crashed, thereby locking Buddy into a kind of capitalist pressure cooker. To Buddy’s chagrin his company puts together a super-cheesy damage control television commercial campaign about the passengers who perished in the crash. When the campaign wins an award at a banquet, Buddy gives a drunken and disastrous reception speech that speaks for the hostility and confusion he experiences working for a company, whose ethics he scorns. The movie is about its characters’ ability to rise above their circumstance and commit to each other. Not as simple as it sounds.

When Buddy is called in to court to testify about giving away his plane ticket in a lawsuit between the victims’ families and Infinity Airlines, Buddy must publicly come to grips with his involvement with people on every side of the tragedy and, by so doing, liberates himself from guilt. It’s a cathartic moment where we see a man struggling to find the truth for himself in front of both his accusers and supporters. His personality won’t allow him to lie to himself and therein lies the nut of Buddy’s nature. Roos takes advantage of the logic of the story to administer to Buddy a social cure for the ghosts that have haunted him. In Roos’ hands, these old-school story-telling devices exemplify the importance of context and social variety to a couple’s ability to understand one another. There are flashes of influence by director Roberto Rossellini (Voyage to Italy) in Roos’ knack for capturing more subtle aspects of a romantic relationship.