Like a sharp boot to the arse on your way out the door, David Frankel’s Collateral Beauty closes a miserable, baffling year with a miserable, baffling Christmas Carol, a clump of holiday treacle so toxic they should hand out hazmat suits with the tickets. Will Smith stars as Howard, one of those charismatic marketing guru types who misinterprets selling products as a noble creative calling. It’s been two years since the death of his daughter, and he hangs around the office in a solemn, silent funk, ignoring important company business and building elaborate domino displays, only to dramatically topple them…