Christmas movies are usually supposed to be a time to gather the family together to enjoy
a warm, happy hour or so in front of the TV.
But most people forget that holiday films usually have some pretty messed-up moments,
starting with 1954's White Christmas.
For most people, White Christmas is nearly ruined by the fact that a portion of the movie
is spent whining about missing minstrel shows, which are, in fact, blatantly racist performances
from the past.
That's so messed up that people often forget the second most jarring portion of the film.
White Christmas is a movie that gets a whole lot done: two romances, a plot about military
men returning into civilian life, and two performances of the best-selling song of all
time.
And yet, it still makes time for Danny Kaye to complain, in song, for three full minutes
about all the infuriating modern dance trends that were threatening to ruin theater in 1954.
Scandal.
It comes out of nowhere, with Kaye leading a troupe of dancers through a parody of these
newfangled beatnik ideas, complaining about how the chicks who did kicks aren't kicking
anymore.
It's a whole portion of the film dedicated to the idea that things should never change.
Of all the non-racist portions of the movie, that one's pretty much the weirdest.
Elf is a delightful film due to Will Ferrell's performance as Buddy, a human raised by Santa's
elves and who maintains a childlike obsession with all things Christmas.
That's what drives him to decorate a whole floor of a department store overnight.
But it's also easy to forget that Buddy is a full-grown man with urges he acts on in
alarming ways.
"burp"
Buddy's little crime is actually presented as just another way he loves Christmas culture.
He's got a major crush on department store elf Jovie, so he sneaks in to the women's
showers at work to listen to her sing "Baby, It's Cold Outside."
Before long, he joins in on a questionable bathroom duet — rightfully freaking out
Jovie.
"Get out!
Don't look at me!"
And Buddy seems mystified as to why she's so mad.
He knows what showers are, so whether or not he hit the showers to sneak a peek, it's still
extremely jarring that a six-foot-three man would sneak into a woman's shower — arrested
development or not.
About 90 percent of The Santa Clause is about Tim Allen discovering the real meaning of
Christmas by slowly transforming into the actual Santa Claus and witnessing pure, close-up
holiday magic.
But it starts out with some of the darkest Christmas movie stuff around.
First, there's a scene where divorced workaholic dad Scott takes his son out to a holiday meal
at a stark little Denny's that's populated by other divorced dads and their kids.
But then the real holiday tragedy kicks in.
Scott becomes Santa because he startles the real Santa on his roof, causing Old St. Nick
to slip...and fall to a grisly death.
Scott puts on the suit and becomes Santa for at least three whole Santa Clause movies'
worth of time.
This is really saying something about the Santa Claus mythology.
This changing of the guard suggests that Santa is not one immortal person but rather a title,
held by a succession of regular individuals.
Sure, there may be an audition process when one Santa gets bored and wants to retire,
but there's a very real clause that says an individual can become Santa by straight up
murdering the previous Santa.
It might just be a chain of endless homicide stretching back for who knows how long!
We won't even get into what may have happened to the previous Mrs. Claus, either.
There are few things worse in the life of a child than the death of a parent, but one
of them is definitely the death of a parent on Christmas.
Way too sad to be the premise of an entire movie, right?
Wrong.
In 1998, Michael Keaton played one such dead dad in Jack Frost.
But good news!
It's a wacky family fantasy movie because he returns to life as a magical talking snowman.
Keaton's character is a guy literally named Jack Frost, as in the mythical character that
personifies winter, except this Jack is a middle-aged musician who fronts a bluesy bar
band who chooses a career over his family.
In the holiday spirit, that choice results in a fatal car accident in the middle of a
snowstorm while trying to get home to his family for Christmas.
Happy holidays, everybody!
1974's A Year Without a Santa Claus is the second best stop-motion animated Christmas
special ever made by Rankin/Bass Productions.
But it's also pretty bleak.
It first aired on American television during the year President Richard Nixon resigned,
and while the Vietnam War still dragged on.
The cynicism felt by millions of Americans shows in A Year Without a Santa Claus.
The story begins with a bedridden Santa, who's literally worried himself sick with the notion
that nobody cares if he even exists.
The sad sack with the toy sack decides to sit out Christmas this year, while Mrs. Claus
sends out some elves to find some true believers.
They set out on their journey with the reindeer Vixen… who gets shot down in the crossfire
from the weather-controlling Snow Miser and Heat Miser, the latter of whom is a demonic
presence who lives in a fiery land that sure looks a lot like Hell.
Yes, it all ends well and Santa gets better, but that's after a sour tone was set with
depression, illness, violence, and literal hell-spawn.
Based on a beloved picture book by Chris Van Allsburg, The Polar Express takes viewers,
and the main character, oddly called "Hero Boy" in the film's credits, on a magical,
CGI Christmas journey.
Hero Boy doubts Santa is real, only to be awakened on Christmas Eve by a massive steam
train outside his front door.
The conductor, a motion-captured Tom Hanks, announces that this vehicle is bound for the
North Pole.
Based on this flimsy premise, Hero Boy readily boards in the middle of the night.
Without telling anyone.
Merry Christmas, Hero Mom and Hero Dad: Your gift this year is a missing persons case!
It's difficult to imagine being alive today and not being familiar with the story laid
out by Johnny Marks in his original song.
But just in case, here you go: Rudolph is a reindeer born with a red nose so shiny that
some would even say it glows, like a light bulb.
This got him made fun of as a child, but once his nose-beam proved to be capable of lighting
the way for Santa Claus on a particularly foggy Christmas Eve, he was lauded by his
former tormentors and went down in history…
like Napoleon or toothpaste, depending on where you went to elementary school.
But here's the problem: before his differences proved to be valuable to them personally,
the other reindeer hated him so much that they wouldn't even let him play games.
If red noses weren't good fog lights, Rudolph would’ve been an outcast to his dying day.
Happy holidays.
A Charlie Brown Christmas is considered one of television’s most beloved holiday traditions,
and it's easy to see why.
Charlie Brown grappling with wintry depression is something that many viewers can relate
to.
And the way he tries to find the true meaning of peace on Earth and goodwill toward men
even while everyone around him is diving into commercialism has a sincerity that makes it
relevant even after 50 years.
Plus, it’s got one of the best Christmas movie soundtracks ever recorded.
But while everyone loves to gather around the television and watch Charlie Brown grappling
with an anxiety disorder, there’s one pretty messed up part that nobody ever seems to mention.
And surprisingly, it’s not the part where a six year-old fixes everything by explaining
the birth of Christ.
No, the problem comes from that poor, pathetic Christmas tree.
“what kind of a tree is that?
"You were supposed to get a good tree!"
"Can't you even tell a good tree and a poor tree?”
It’s not the tree itself.
You couldn't ask for a better metaphor for the story of Jesus.
And yet, when the Peanuts gang finally does come to appreciate the tree, it seems like
they completely miss the metaphor.
Charlie Brown’s been searching for the meaning of Christmas, and in that scrawny little tree,
he finds it.
It doesn’t look like much and it’s not as flashy as the artificial trees the other
kids want, but it’s real, and there’s a thoughtfulness and hope invested in it.
If this humble tree can be loved, maybe Charlie Brown can, too.
It turns out, he can’t.
Rather than accepting the tree despite its flaws, the other kids pretty it up into a
small but otherwise standard-issue Christmas tree, covered in shiny garlands and bright
lights, only learning to like it once it looks like everything else.
In other words, they took the perfect metaphor for the true meaning of Christmas... and made
it more commercial.
"Good grief."