And so, at last, to Christmas. Brought to you by Brett Ratner without so much as a by-your-leave to Dickens or Capra, The Family Man stars Nicolas Cage as an angry corporate asshole -- the kind who spends Christmas Eve brokering megadeals -- who, by means of a dream sequence induced by one of God’s handy emissaries (Don Cheadle), comes to appreciate what a rich life he might have led had he not shut the door on his college sweetheart (Tea Leoni). This is not as bad as it sounds, and a good deal better than the movie‘s sappy trailer. With a pert screenplay by David Diamond and David Weissman, The Family Man has the airiness of a well-made souffle, springing delicate small surprises at calibrated intervals. Cage is just fine, and Leoni’s forthright, sexy performance as the wife manquee makes you understand why she makes a believer out of her gun-shy husband. So much so that you almost forget you‘re being served another bowl of Hollywood gruel by men in Malibu compounds sermonizing that in fact it’s we honest Joes, the ones who pony up the bucks to see their movies, who understand what life is really about. I‘m off now to the car dealership to watch them trade in their Ferraris for minivans. God bless them, every one.