SENT TO COVENTRY (NATIVITY 2: DANGER IN THE MANGER)

Never let it be said that America has cornered the market in Christmas sentimentality.

Anyone who has seen 'Love Actually' or 'Arthur Christmas' will tell you that British filmmakers are as adept at making Festive movies that are so sugary, they make you want to puke.

Nowhere has this has been more appallingly demonstrated than in Debbie Isitt's 'Nativity' movies.

Three years ago, Isitt scored a surprise box office hit with the first 'Nativity' film which was set in a working class Catholic primary school in Coventry, called St Bernadette's. 

It was full of cutesy kids and its very thin plot centred on Martin Freeman's beleaguered schoolteacher lying to a teacher in a rival posh school about Hollywood interest in his school's nativity play, only to see the lie take a life of its own.

Well now the children of St Bernadette's are back with a plot so thin and stretched that 'Nativity 2' has actually usurped 'Alvin and the Chipmunks: Chipwrecked' in my book as the worst family movie ever made.

Martin Freeman has left Coventry for Middle Earth, so another likeable TV actor, David Tennant has stepped into the role of lead actor and narrator as well as taking on another role as his nasty twin brother.

Tennant is Donald Petersen who lands a job in St Bernadette's after a succession of teachers drop out as a result of the antics of Marc Wootton's man-child classroom assistant, Mr Poppy.

Mr Petersen has become estranged from his ruthless twin brother Roderick and his domineering father (played by Ian McNeice). 

Tenant's character should be looking forward along with his wife (played by 'Gavin and Stacey's' Joanna Page) to the imminent birth of their first child but he is consumed by his failure to assert control in the classroom.

This is because Mr Poppy has set his and the children's hearts on appearing in a nationally televised Christmas song contest in Wales.

Standing in Mr Poppy's way is Pam Ferris's disapproving headmistress Mrs Bevans, who happens to be his aunt, Tennant's nasty twin brother who has entered the contest and returning from the first film, Jason Watkins' vain snob Mr Shakespeare from the rival St Cuthbert's School.

But like a hurricane, Mr Poppy storms his way to Wales, sweeping Mr Petersen and the children with him in search of a slot on the TV programme and a recording contract.

Cue a succession of lame, signposted gags that involve 'Britain's Got Talent' style auditions, a duck boat which runs out of petrol, a baby, a donkey and white water rafting. 

Oh and I almost forgot. There are also a lot of jokes about poo and about farting. 

At this point, I should point out that it is already clear that the film, which has been universally panned by critics, is on course to be the biggest grossing UK independent film of 2012.

It is expected to take £9 million at the box office at the end of the Christmas season - almost twice the gross of the previous movie. 

By way of contrast, James Marsh's excellent 'Shadow Dancer' took only £1 million.

So, there's no accounting for taste.

Audiences clearly don't care that Debbie Isitt's script is lamer than a Chuckle Brothers' TV show.

Audiences clearly don't care that her direction of the movie is duller than your typical Garry Marshall movie.

Audiences clearly don't care that Mr Poppy is possibly the most irritating character ever to besmirch a cinema screen - even more annoying than Alvin and the Chipmunks or most of Jim Carrey or Adam Sandler's creations.

Audiences clearly don’t care that Marc Wootton and his director seem to be under the impression that he is Britain's answer to Jack Black but he is about as wild and crazy as Mr Blobby.

Audiences clearly don't care that David Tennant is undoing years of decent screen work with dual lazy pantomime performances.

Audiences clearly don't care that this movie is more sugary than the popcorn that is probably rotting their teeth.

And believe you me, I would rather have root canal treatment than sit through this film again.

But what do junior film critics make of the movie?

Alas, my daughter Ellen, who is seven, thoroughly enjoyed the film.

(This review originally appeared on the EamonnMallie.com website in December 2012)