I get lots of e-mail asking me what my favorite movies are. And by “lots” I refer to one a received earlier this year. However, I shall address this burning question for my devoted reader and those of you too shy to ask, but nevertheless dying to know, in the form of a holiday-themed column. As the holidays approach, I pay more attention to the TV Guide channel than ever before, rabidly strategizing my participation in the most important of holiday rituals: the viewing of Christmas movies.
I would say “holiday,” but I honestly don’t know of any movies other than Christmas ones, outside of the animated Chanukah one that Adam Sandler made a few years ago, which didn’t make my list. I am open to suggestions, although as I said earlier, many of you are evidently much too shy to e-mail.
Obviously the best Christmas movie is “It’s a Wonderful Life” with James Stewart and Donna Reed. No, it’s not “Miracle on 34th Street,” because that child is annoying until her belief in Santa Clause tenderizes her, and this mars most of the film. On the other hand, “It’s a Wonderful Life” features the irredeemably heartwarming James Stewart, always lovable whether he’s playing an idealistic politician, an idealistic savings and loan president or an idealistic alcoholic who hangs out with an invisible rabbit. It’s impossible not to love him, and he’s fun and easy to do impressions of. My sister does a terrific one.
I love this film despite the fact that it perpetuates pernicious stereotypes of my chosen profession, that of a librarian. Jimmy Stewart’s character George is bent on suicide, notwithstanding the fact that the little angel has shown him how, without his life having been lived, his brother died, dozens of soldiers died, his old boss poisoned a sick child and went to jail, his mom is mean (this one’s never really explained, but presumably the loss of young Harry her only son made her a dried-up crone), Violet’s slightly more of a floozy than previously, and there are lots of bars in his wholesome Bedford Falls, horrifyingly now called Pottersville.
Sure, these eventualities are a bummer and confuse poor George Bailey, but he isn’t convinced that his life is worth living until the horror of his lovely wife’s fate unfolds before him. She is a librarian! She wears glasses! It’s too much for him to bear, and he goes loping, panicked, through the snow and decides to live, all because his wife turns out to be a cardigan-wearer without him. My mother says it’s the fact that their darling little children were never born that makes it sad, but that’s just to shut me up.
However, it’s not the personal offense this causes that makes it wrong. It’s that it’s illogical. Let’s think back to earlier in the film … Mary has another suitor, but chooses George … This other suitor becomes fabulously wealthy … Hello — Mary wouldn’t have been a librarian without George; she would have married rich, successful Sam Wainwright! Have we forgotten? Mary’s mother hasn’t. Remember how upset she was when Mary chose poor, tall George Bailey?
To make sense, the film should show Mary living it up in New York City, wearing furs and getting plastic surgery, her mother gleefully riding in limos to Broadway shows. Of course, if Mary’s life had been better rather than worse without George, he would have chosen suicide and everyone would have hated the movie, so the filmmakers were forced to consign Donna Reed to the worst of female fates in order to make it work.
Nevertheless, this is the best Christmas film. Sure, you can watch “A Christmas Story,” but it won’t make you cry at the end, like in “It’s A Wonderful Life” when the handsome war hero brother comes home and says George Bailey is the richest man in town … I am literally tearing up just writing it.
I also like Bill Murray’s “Scrooged” and “Mickey’s Christmas Carol.” The best Christmas soundtrack goes to “A Charlie Brown Christmas,” but the animated “How the Grinch Stole Christmas” might be my favorite holiday cartoon. This is, under no circumstances, to be confused with the Jim Carrey version, with its lame Grinch back story and irritating Molly Shannon contingency.
That film is only to be used when it’s Christmas Eve and you require second and third tier holiday fare in order to keep a continuous loop of Christmas movies playing, a practice I recommend. People think it’s perfectly fine to watch football all day on New Year’s Day, so why not an 18-hour marathon of stop-action reindeer, real Santas, major awards and, of course, idealistic savings and loan clerks? Just pace yourself with the eggnog or you’ll be inconsolable every time a bell rings and an angel gets his wings. Trust me.
Contact Asia Frey at afrey@lagniappemobile.com.
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