Tis the film season

Despite what some may think, I actually do like Christmas. I love Christmas music (by which I mostly mean Praetorius, Handel, Bach and Corelli), and I’m pretty much a sucker for Christmas movies.

This being the month when they all start oozing out of the airwaves, I thought I’d list some of my favorites.

Naturally, it can’t be Christmas without Dickens. There are a squillion iterations of A Christmas Carol. Purists always cite the 1951 Alastair Sim version (titled Scrooge), but I favor the 1999 TV production with Patrick Stewart as Scrooge. I think I like it because of the Cratchits. Richard E. Grant makes a super Bob, and Saskia Reeves has not been bettered as Mrs. Cratchit. Moreover, Trevor Peacock, Liz Smith (both recognizable to fans of The Vicar of Dibley) and Elizabeth Sprigs practically steal the show as the future ghouls disposing of Scrooge’s meager possessions.

Carol is the fallback position for every producer who wants a quick and dirty tear-jerker for the season. They hire some hack to put a “fresh” or “contemporary” spin on the tale. They’re stunningly ghastly. There’s one with Tori Spelling in the Scrooge role, Gary Coleman as the Ghost of Christmas Past and William Shatner as Christmas Present. ’Nuff said.

There’s also A Diva’s Christmas Carol, with Vanessa Williams as Ebony Scrooge (I’m not making this up); and Ebbie, with Susan Lucci as a department store owner who gets to change her clothes a whole lot; and Karroll’s Christmas; and—well, I’m making myself sick here.

The one exception to this rule of awfulness is Scrooged. I wasn’t a fan of Bill Murray until I saw this film, but he’s perfect. Plus, the dialogue is terrific. There’s one line that has imprinted on me: “The Jews taught me a word—it’s a great word: schmuck. I…was a schmuck…” Add in Carol Kane as the whacked-out Ghost of Christmas Present and you really have a classic. I can watch Scrooged again and again.

Actually, it’s interesting that most of the knock-offs are comedies. I suppose it’s partly because some of the actors (see Tori Spelling, above) are too lightweight to handle drama and the true darkness that pervades Dickens’ tale, the real bleakness of Scrooge’s life.

Also, most are for basic cable, and of course we don’t want near-tragedy when you’re trying to hawk SaladShooters and those hooks you can stick on your mantel.

Leaving Dickens, I’m probably the only person in America who isn’t a fan of It’s a Wonderful Life. It’s okay, but the one that I love is Miracle on 34th Street. The original, not the remake. It’s saved from complete treacly-ness by the fact that the acquittal of Kris Kringle can be explained by a confluence of totally cynical events (the judge needs to be re-elected; the postal workers want to offload all the letters to Santa on that guy in the news, etc.). Plus, there is no Kris Kringle but Edmund Gwenn.

And while I despise the recent remake of 34th Street, I find Dear God charming, and can watch it any time. Partly it’s Greg Kinnear and the collection of outcasts he works with at the Post Office (what’s not to love about Tim Conway as a letter carrier demoted for biting a dog?). But again, it’s that convergence of venal intentions that morph into doing-good that really makes it shine.

Meet Me in Saint Louis isn’t strictly a Christmas film, but it has one of the best songs ever: “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas”. Also Margaret O’Brien. It was released in January 1945, when the country had been battered by the knowledge that the war hadn’t ended by Christmas, and in fact that Hitler’s Ardennes offensive (the Battle of the Bulge) had briefly looked like it would drive the Allies back to the sea. The wistful “From now on our troubles will be out of sight” must have captured what thousands of American families were hoping during that time.

The Bells of St. Mary's was also made during WWII (released January 1945). I prefer it to Going My Way—probably because of the presence of Ingrid Bergman. Also, there's never been a Christmas Pageant like the one at St. Mary's, ever. But there should be.

Desk Set, Trading Places and The Shop Around the Corner are also not strictly Christmas movies; it’s the setting for the plots. Desk Set’s classic scene is Katharine Hepburn getting spiffed at the office Christmas party and spewing back a cognitive test Spencer Tracy had given her earlier. It’s Tracy-Hepburn at their best. Plus, Joan Blondell rocks.

Shop was “remade” in 1949, as In the Good Old Summertime (frankly forgettable unless you’re a Judy Garland fan) and in 1998, as You’ve Got Mail; but neither touches the class of the original. Tom Hanks may be the latter-day Jimmy Stewart, but there’s nowhere near the charm quotient of Shop in that movie. (Plus, Shop is about poor people in love despite themselves; Mail is definitely about people so rich they really could buy love.) I’m frankly not that big a fan of Margaret Sullavan, or her character in the film, but the overall interaction is remarkably heart-warming. I especially love the scene where Mr. Matuschek goes off with the new delivery boy—two lonely men from opposite ends of the spectrum—for a scrumptious Christmas Eve dinner.

I have a special place in my heart for Trading Places—I worked on it during my stint in Hollywood. I never did understand the schtick on the commodities floor, but I believe Eddie Murphy nailed the whole brokerage gig when he told the Duke brothers that they were bookies.

The 1955 We’re No Angels gives us Humphrey Bogart, Aldo Ray and Peter Ustinov as three escapees from Devil’s Island who bring Christmas cheer to a kind family they plan to rob. A viper also plays a major role.

You can’t go wrong with a Bill Forsyth film, and Comfort and Joy doesn’t disappoint. It starts with radio presenter Alan Bird being blindsided by his klepto girlfriend moving out of his flat, and moves on to him solving an ice cream war of rival Italian families in Glasgow. A recipe for banana fritters figures heavily in the dénouement. The final scene with him sipping whiskey during his program on Christmas day is just as convivial as it gets.

Of course, it just wouldn’t be Christmas without the official Red Ryder carbine-action 200-shot range model air rifle. A Christmas Story is a classic in every sense of the word. Jean Shepherd’s narration sets the tone of that time when the media influences on children were limited to radio, magazines and the Saturday matinée. Young Ralphie struggles to make the world conform to his daydreams—and does a fairly good job of it most of the time.

There are many wonderful scenes in the film—the arrival of The Old Man’s Italian/fra-gee-lay Major Award, the raid by the Bumpuses’ dogs, Ralphie freezing when he finally makes it to Santa's lap in the department store—but I think the one I love the most is Christmas dinner in the Chinese restaurant. If that doesn’t embody the True Meaning of Christmas, then I don’t know what does.

If you get a chance to see any of these this season, see if you agree with me.