And to reveal the cover of my upcoming book, Christmas in Classic Films. It's a collection of essays from this blog and some new material, and though I had intended it to come out this month, some other things got in the way and so I'll be offering it as a pre-order on Amazon probably sometime in the spring, with publication at the end of next summer at several online shops. I'll keep you posted.
The design is by your friend and mine, Casey Koester, whom you might know from her excellent Noir Girl blog, which I encourage you to visit.
Thank you all for the pleasure of your company this year. See you in 2022!
A
Christmas Story
(1983) perhaps unlike any other Christmas movie, has reached icon stage in
American pop culture. Its meteoric rise
in stature—to the level where the house in Cleveland where some exterior scenes
were shot has been turned into a tourist attraction, and Major Award Leg Lamps
are to be found for sale as T-shirts, earrings, tree ornaments and actual
lamps. The movie’s dialogue has become a
universal language. Even hallowed
favorites among classic film fans like White Christmas (1954) or Christmasin Connecticut (1945) have not become so widely quoted, merchandized, or
watched.
This
is the final film in our series on holiday movies.I’ll link to the other movies we discussed
below.This series was meant to lead up
to the release of my newest book—a collection of essays on Christmas classic
films, but life, as the saying goes, got in the way.That book will have to wait a little longer,
and I’ll discuss that more next week.
While
I don’t personally consider A Christmas Story a classic film (my
criteria follows that it must be produced before 1965), nobody who loves
classic films can deny the special attraction this movie has for classic film
fans.It achieves a unique quality of
being a “retro” movie by virtue of its setting in about 1940, but unlike other
movies, even very good and well-researched movies set in the 1930s and 1940s,
it accomplishes this with effortless submersion into a world that most viewers,
even in 1983, did not remember personally but understood instinctually. This was achieved without mawkishness, or
parody.Though the movie is clearly a love
letter to the era, it is never sentimental, and yet is it still without the
brutish pseudo-sophisticated sarcasm of modern films and TV shows.
It
is a look at the travails of Christmas through the eyes of a child, yet it is
narrated by the adult the child has become and we also see the parents’ and other
grown-ups’ view of things.There is no
linear story, but the movie is told in splintered vignettes woven together as
Christmas draws ever closer, with the anticipation of marking off the calendar.
Directed
by Bob Clark (who also has a short role as “Swede,” the guy to whom Ralphie’s
father brags about his Major Award), the movie was co-written by humorist Jean
Shepherd (who also appears briefly in line waiting for Santa) from his series
of semi-autobiographical stories.
Peter
Billingsley had the role of a lifetime as Ralphie, a wide-eyed bespectacled kid
who is innocent but not naïve, and who desperately wants a Red Ryder BB gun for
Christmas, despite being warned by every grown-up he encounters that “You’ll
shoot your eye out.”
Darren
McGavin is his father, or “the Old Man.”I love him in this role.He is
the perfect curmudgeon with the soft heart who eventually grants the boy’s
wish.His thrill at watching his son
open the box is priceless.His
grumpiness is true to life and hysterical.My favorite line of his: “You used up all the glue on purpose!”He reminds me of my own father.
Melinda
Dillon is the mother, who in every way is the perfect consort to the blustering
McGavin.I will say, though, the only
thing I don’t like about the movie is her hairdo.It should have been more of a 1940s style.She looks too modern.Her battle at getting Randy into the snowsuit
is epic.
Ian
Petrella plays Randy, and Ralphie’s pals are R. D. Robb as Schwartz, Scott
Schwartz as Flick, and the bully Scut Farkus is played by Zach Ward and his
toady Grover Dill is played by Yano Anaya.The movie was made nearly 40 years ago and yet these guys will always be
kids whose place in pop culture is so cemented as to override the fact that
they were really just actors saying lines.
Tedde
Moore is the longsuffering teacher Miss Shields, who meets every obstacle with
a raised eyebrow.I love her arch
inspiration of announcing to the students they are to be given the assignment
of writing…a theme.
It’s
hard to say if the blueprint of this movie—script, casting, storyboard, cinematography—is
a masterwork of brilliance in the planning or if the sum total of the movie’s
parts were just a happy accident.There
is a feel of serendipity about the film and where it takes us.
The
details are there to enjoy that have little to do with the plot: the teacher’s
drawer full of confiscated trinkets including Big Little books (I had some, did
you?), and my favorite, the Terry and the Pirates comic strip on the
back of the newspaper Darren McGavin is reading on Christmas morning.
The
Orphan Annie decoder was a particular topic of discussion in my family, as my
mother, who as a child in the 1930s—and a huge Orphan Annie fan (I learned the
theme song at her knee as a young kid…”Who’s the little chatterbox, the one
with pretty auburn locks? Whom do you see, it’s Little Orphan Annie….”)—and who
could not afford to send for the decoder to get Annie’s secret messages, cleverly
figured out the cipher key herself on paper. She would not affirm that each message was about
Ovaltine, the sponsor, but agreed the commercialism was pretty heavy-handed.
“Fragile—must
be Italian,” and not sticking your tongue to cold metal are scenes so indelible
this must be the one film where the plot—even though there is one—seems unnecessary
at times.
We
are taken on Ralphie’s rollercoaster emotions of the season and face trials of
how to ask for the present he knows his parents won’t approve of, facing the
frightening experience of a too-loud Santa in a line of fretful kids, an especially facing
the awful bully. Using the "oh fudge" line rather than explicitly using the vulgarity is actually funnier than if we had been allowed to hear Ralphie's uncensored slip into profanity, just as Mr. McGavin's indecipherable sputtering is funnier than if we had been able to understand his frustrated rant over the furnace.
About the only aspect
of Christmas missing from the movie that many of us would identify with is the
religious themes and overtones, which we catch only a glimpse of at the beginning
of the film with the church choir singing on the street corner. Missing are the mysteries of the Nativity,
which most kids comically mix up and about which they come to very strange
conclusions. I have always personally
enjoyed the kids’ reenactment at church of the First Christmas with unruly shepherds,
sheep that won’t stand still, and angels that shove Wise Men when they step on their
line. The theatricality of Christmas
could be another movie, but it’s not something Ralphie has to endure. He has
enough on his plate.
At
the end of it, Ralphie gets his heart’s desire, and the adult voiceover rejoices
and confirms that it was his best Christmas present that he would ever
receive.
There
is a poignant note of sadness in that.Never
to have topped the Christmas when you were eight years old?
Perhaps
that is because as children, all our experiences, big and small, happy and sad,
hit us so acutely.It is not just believing in Santa or in wishes
that come true, but rather that we live the season so passionately, down to our
bones.
We
look for messages in Christmas films, if only because most of them, at least
the modern Hallmark versions, bludgeon us with them.If A Christmas Story has any message
for us, it is just to take the holiday season for what it is, make the best of it, and
keep your sense of humor.And if there
are any good memories, keep them.Treasure them.Stretch them in
the retelling.They will sustain us long
after the much-desired presents of childhood have been broken and thrown out.
But the reason for the film's popularity and ascendance to pop culture icon is not only due to the film's excellence. Many wonderful movies have not reached this stage of familiarity or have been entirely lost to us. It is because of the canny repetitive broadcasting every year, not just once but several times, even an annual 24-hour marathon on one cable station. That, like Orphan Annie's Ovaltine "secret message" Ralphie was desperate to decode, is pure clever marketing. There is nothing sentimental about that, but you can't argue with success.
Beyond
Tomorrow
(1940) is Christmas ghost story, a fantasy of second chances. George Bailey and his angel Clarence meet the
Ghost of Christmas Present, or at least a slant on the theme of otherworldly
visitors helping out dense, stubborn mortals.
The
ghosts in this movie actually start out being mortals, sometimes dense and
stubborn, but other times are decent and even lovable chaps.They are Charles Winninger, C. Aubrey Smith,
and Harry Carey as three old bachelors who own an engineering firm.They live together in a New York City
brownstone—so many of these Christmas movies in this series have taken us to
New York City—and prepare for a quiet Christmas Eve dinner with company after
working late in their apartment.
The
secretaries are sent away and the gentlemen don evening dress for dinner, but
the invited couple has made late regrets and can’t come, and the three men are
let down that they have nothing else special to do for the holiday, having no
families.C. Aubrey Smith, we will find
out later, is actually a widower whose soldier son has, like his wife,
predeceased him.Smith is English,
naturally, a former officer in the Royal Army before setting himself up in
business as an engineer.He is kindly,
avuncular, and cheerful.’
Charles
Winninger is Irish, the most chipper of the group, who pushes Christmas on the
other two workaholics and forces good cheer on everyone around him.
Harry
Carey is a glum, even bitter, Midwesterner.We do not know much about his story, except he gripes at everything,
though we catch enough glimpses of his brief, secret smiles to know the guy
isn’t a meanie. However, it is intimated that he once committed a crime for
which he faced a jury and the scandal still hangs over him.He is down on a world which he feels has not
treated him fairly.
They
are attended in their home by Maria Ouspenskaya as their housekeeper, official
hostess, and head of staff.She is a
former countess who lost her home and social position, and wealth, during the
Russian Revolution.Alex Melesh, the
butler, is a similar emigree who came along with Madame Ouspenskaya, and
devotedly calls her “Excellency.”She
confesses to him that when she was rich in Russia, she was not happy, but in
the lean years afterward learned that helping others made her happy, and that
to be needed was what gave her life meaning and fulfillment.Maria doesn’t need to be visited by any Christmas
ghosts; she’s already learned her lessons.
Charles
Winninger, intending to save Christmas, playfully suggests a sporting contest,
that the men each put $10 and their calling cards in three different wallets
and throw them out the window into the pedestrian traffic on the sidewalk.They are fishing for guests for dinner.People who come in to honestly return the
wallets will be invited to stay.
The
first wallet is scooped up by a flippant, greedy woman, who laughingly keeps
it.The other two are returned by two
different souls wandering the streets this wintry Christmas Eve: Richard
Carlson, and Jean Peters.He is a cowboy
stranded in New York after the rodeo he performed with at Madison Square Garden
left town, and she is a New Hampshire schoolteacher now working in a children’s
clinic in the city.They are both alone,
and will soon fall in love.
They
all pass a pleasant evening singing and we find that Richard Carlson has a
beautiful singing voice.It will later
bring him fame, fortune, and tragedy.
The
young couple are completely taken with the three gentlemen, who have become
their godfathers, who bestow gifts on them, offer advice, and visit Jean’s
children’s hospital on Christmas Day to bring presents and play with the
kids.Just as we saw with the gang of
squatters in the mansion in It Happened on 5th Avenue (1947) here,
this hastily assembled crew has quickly become a family, and Christmas is for
families, so much so that sometimes they need to be created in a pinch.
All
Christmas week, the young couple is accompanied by the three men and Madame
Ouspenskaya on group outings: to parties, a hockey match, and bowling.It is a hoot to see the montage with the
image of proper and dignified C. Aubrey Smith and the Russian countess at the
bowling alley with hot dogs and Coke bottles in hand.
Then
the family comes apart, but not with the natural going separate ways after the
holiday.The family is fractured
instantly, tragically.
We
have only a brief premonition of trouble; actually, it is Madame Ouspenskaya’s premonition.The three fellows—neither stooges nor Magi—are
off on a business trip to another state and their little family sees them off
at the airport.Maria is worried and
wishes they would take the train instead.
Headlines
of a lost plane, of a crash, of bodies found.
We
next see the dark, cold interior of the New York brownstone and the ghosts of
the three men entering, bewildered, at first not aware they are ghosts.Madame Ouspenskaya, in mourning, enters, and
immediately senses their presence.“I know
you are here.I cannot see you or touch
you, but I know you are here.”
“So,
this is it,” the ghosts understand they have passed on, but to where?
Before
their flight, the men have left an envelope with bonds in it for the young couple,
and Maria asks them to move in with her and the butler for a while.
But
a quiet transition to a new family dynamic in the old house with three ghosts
in it is not to be.Richard Carlson gets
an audition to sing on the radio, does well, and wins a spot on a regular
program.Next, a fading Broadway star
played with sophisticated vampishness by Helen Vinson, takes a shine to the
handsome Mr. Carlson.She is attracted
to him and to the possibility he will help to boost her career.
Carlson’s
charming county bumpkin ways become maddening as he does not seem to see the
danger to his relationship with Jean Peters or that Miss Vinson in just using
him.
The
ghosts, matchmakers in death as they were in life, are not happy about this at
all and try repeatedly to warn the mortals.But time is growing short for them. It seems they are not to be allowed
to spend eternity in the living room after all.With bolts of lightning and terrible thunderclaps, Harry Carey realizes
with the customary sense of doom he wore in life that his final reward draws
near.His ghostly pals fear for him, and
Charles Winninger urges him to ask forgiveness.Carey is more than stubborn, he is proud, and he is honest.He cannot say he is sorry for what he had
done, “What I did needed doing.I have
no remorse.”He accepts his fate and
walks morosely into the terrible blackness.
The
remaining ghosts now turn their attention to the continuing problem of Richard
Carlson getting involved with a wicked lady and leaving poor sweet Jean Parker
alone.Both Carlson and Parker were
second-tier players through the thirties and Jean may probably be best
remembered as “Beth” to Katharine Hepburn’s “Jo” in the 1933 version of Little
Women.
C.
Aubrey Smith must give up the attempt to help, for now it is his turn.Like the soldier he was once long ago, he is
being called by a celestial trumpeting of “The Last Post.”There is no terrible blackness, only a dim
sense of light on the horizon, and from it, to his astonishment, walks his
solder son.“I’ve come for you, Dad.”
“What
is it like?”
“What
do you want it to be like?”
Mr.
Smith recalls an old army post in the tropics where he enjoyed the
companionship of fellow officers, sport, apparently no shooting at him, and the
benefits of being a colonial master of sorts.He will join his wife there and it will be his paradise.
Charles
Winninger is left alone to deal with the problem of Richard Carlson, which
grows worse as Helen Vinson’s ex-husband and former stage partner, played by
Rod La Rocque in one of his last film roles, jealously follows them to a
country inn where they intend to spend a few days.Winninger has a few comic moments such as
when he pulls down Miss Vinson’s skirt which has been provocatively raised, and
when he knocks her hat off. But more than this he is helpless to do.He cannot really turn Carlson away from bad
mistakes or the tragedy to come.
Then
it’s his turn to meet his final reward and cross over to his own paradise, but
he refuses the voice, because he cannot leave Carlson alone.He feels responsible for him.The voice tells him if he does not follow, he
will doom himself to wander the earth forever.
“I
can’t go now.I can’t.”He is sad and helpless, but ever faithful,
and he has lost his chance at eternal happiness.
At
the country inn, where Carlson and Helen Vinson are having dinner, drunken Rod
La Rocque shows up with a gun and shoots them both.Next, the inevitable operation scene and Winninger
paces the corridor like an expectant father.Instead of good news, the ghost of Richard Carlson comes out into the
hall.He realizes now his foolishness
and must suffer remorse for eternity for what he has caused.
Miracles
conveniently happen in movies such as this, and so through the purity of
Winninger’s heart, he is given a second chance to pass on to paradise, and Carlson
is given a second chance at life.They
part as Winninger responds to the distant call of his mother, and, truly
unexpectedly, to the vision of Harry Carey, who also has been granted a second
chance at paradise because he has finally let go of the bitterness he carried
in life.There can be no light with
bitterness, only darkness.
Beyond
Tomorrow
is a parable and a fantasy of unlikely events and possibilities, grounded
perhaps not by a love story but by the notion that consequences are attached to
everything, and that optimism, even in the face sometimes terrible
consequences, makes life bearable and is a blessed thing.
Thank you to Paula of Paula's Cinema Club, Kellee of Outspoken and Freckled, and Aurora of Once Upon a Screen for hosting the recent 10th Annual What a Character Blogathon, and to Turner Classic Movies for the unexpected swag pictured above.
Names were drawn for a contest celebrating the 10th anniversary of the blogathon, with prizes donated by TCM and the University Press of Kentucky. I was fortunate enough to be one of the several winners, and I'm very grateful to TCM, and Paula, Kellee, and Aurora for the goodies.
Big
Business
(1929) is an unabashedly violent and vengeful look at the selling of Christmas
trees.But when Laurel and Hardy are the
salesmen, you just don’t regret the absence of peace on earth and good will
toward men.
This
silent short, directed by James “J. Wesley” Horne, boasted two future greats as
supervising director and cameraman – Leo McCarey and George Stevens.The film was enrolled in the National Film
Registry in 1992.
The
title card begins the adventure telling us, tersely, that we are witnessing “selling
Christmas trees in California.”This
would explain the lack of snow and the palm trees gliding by the little open
car with the tiny truck bed on the back, into which are standing a few spindly Christmas
trees mounted on wooden stands.“Spindly”
only according to today’s opulent standards (I have brought home real trees in
years past which, when crammed into my living room, the single tree took up
half the room. Small animals could have lived in its branches and never been
discovered. Even getting the tree into the house and squeezing it through the
door, some years, my twin brother and I in our younger days would have to grab
it and run up the steps with a heave-ho as if we were storming a castle with a
battering ram.)
The
streets are wide, refreshingly free from the chaos of traffic, and the boys
park among a row of Spanish-style stucco houses to peddle their trees
door-to-door.
A
customer declines.Another customer hits
Ollie on the head with a hammer.The
third customer, our old pal James Finlayson, proves to be the ultimate hard
sale.The shenanigans begin innocently
enough:Stan gets a tree branch caught
in the door after Mr. Finlayson slams it on them.It happens again.He then gets his coat caught. Soon, the
irritated homeowner and the frustrated salesmen devolve into a tit-for-tat battle
of one-upmanship.Finlayson attacks
their tree, Ollie’s watch, and the boys start ripping pieces off Finlayson’s
house.
The
chaos builds, neighbors come to watch, as does a surprisingly laconic policeman,
as the boys destroy Finlayson’s house, and Finlayson destroys their little
truck.
Released
in April 1929, we may note two things: first, just as we discussed in this
previous post, many Christmas-themed movies were not released at Christmastime;
and second, perhaps because this movie was released well before the Wall Street
Crash in October of that year, there is a bravado of commercialism and complete
lack of sentiment.The boys want to hustle
their trees, but we are not given any indication that they are down and
out.As the melee concludes, though all
three men appear tearful under the threat of the cop’s presence, they are not
regretful for what they have done, only that they were caught.
There
is no Yuletide softening of the heart here as they would be in movies of later
years, no message of reconciliation or discovering the true meaning of Christmas
after their fits of destruction.Stan
and Ollie give Finlayson an exploding cigar, and then they run away from the
cop.
Even
modern Christmas comedies with more grit and sarcasm to them have an “aww-gee” moment, but not Laurel and Hardy in
1929.Comedy was unapologetically brutal,
and consequences were swift and severe.And funny.
Lillian Randolph must have
been a warm and lovely lady, for there is something in her portrayals that goes
beyond talent and is supercharged by perhaps empathy or a deep sense of knowing.She is instantly relatable and somehow more genuine
than the stars she supports.
Taking a break from the
Christmas series today to join in on the 10th Annual What a
Character Blogathon hosted by Kellee of Outspoken & Freckled, Paula
of Paula’s Cinema Club,
and Aurora of Once Upon a Screen.Stop
byany of their blogs for a full list of great bloggers participating in
this wonderful event that celebrates our cherished character actors.
Likely,
most classic film buffs are familiar with Lillian Randolph’s brief role as the
cook and housekeeper Annie in It’s a Wonderful Life (1946).When George Bailey is down and out, she laughingly donates her life
savings to him, money she was saving for a divorce in case she ever got
married.
As
with African-American actors of the day, Miss Randolph spent most of her career
playing domestic servants, and that was unfair, but in her talented grip, not a
tragedy.She made these characters
interesting and threw her whole self into them.
We
discussed her role in the comedy Once More, My Darling (1949) here in this previous post.The movie stars Ann Blyth and Robert
Montgomery as a pair of eccentric misfits, and Lillian Randolph is the maid of
Montgomery’s wealthy mother, the only person in a house of sophisticates who
understands ditzy Ann Blyth and supports her with bemused fascination.Quoting just from a bit of that essay:
"The only one she connects with is Mamie, the maid, wonderfully
played by Lillian Randolph. Miss Randolph has a stronger role in
this film than most domestics, and not stereotyped. She has a
personality of her own, and is clearly amused and delighted with
Ann. She seems to be the only one who is not repelled by her
perfume."
While it is true that the Black servants of the movie world were stereotypes,
as noted above, Lillian Randolph never played them that way.She seemed to understand them as
personalities and to get a kick out the
roles she played. There is sense of joy in her work.
She began in radio, and her work stretched across many decades through
film, television, and suppled the voice for the now notorious Mammy Two-Shoes
in several Tom and Jerry cartoons.
Blessed with a gloriously rich contralto singing voice, she also performed
as a blues singer. We can hear her sing in several episodes the long-running radio
comedy The
Great Gildersleeve.As the cook and housekeeper
Birdie, Miss Randolph was a mainstay of the house, really a main character in
the family of bumbling bachelor Gildersleeve and his niece and nephew.As the series progressed, she was more like
the counterpart of Gildersleeve.They
were not spouses, but they were domestic partners in running the house and
raising the children in every other sense. The Gildersleeve series later became adapted for television and a few movies.
In another episode, Birdie’s singing talent is discovered
by a visiting impresario, and he wants to send her away to study voice, Randolph sings “Goin’ Home” at about 10:54 and reprises the song later in the show.It is a stirring, beautiful piece. (Her
daughter Barbara Randolph also became a singer.)She would also sing the “Coventry Carol” on many
Gildersleeve Christmas episodes.She
recorded “Were You There” also in 1956 on a 45-rpm record.Later on in life she reportedly taught
acting, singing, and public speaking.
“What a fine woman!” Gildersleeve remarks of Birdie, and in
an era where African-American performers were relegated to playing characters
that were not often afforded much dignity, Lillian Randolph’s appealing and
loveable personality, her vibrancy, silliness, and canny playing off her castmates made her a star in her
scenes if not on the marquee.
It
Happened on 5th Avenue (1947) is a pleasant romantic comedy that tackles the
problems of two couples of different generations, the post-World War II housing
shortage, juggles tropes of the happy hobo, and the millionaire who needs to
get back in touch with the common man, throw in a couple songs even though it’s
not a musical – and Christmas. This last
element is not the focus of the movie, and that, as we have mentioned in the
earlier movies of this series, is what makes this film an appealing
adventure.
We’re
back in New York City, the location for Fitzwilly (1967), The Lemon
Drop Kid (1951), and one of the fun points of this movie is several
rear-screen projection scenes of New York.
I don’t know about you, but I like rear-screen projection. I wish it followed me around, too. I could run a marathon without going anywhere. The setting here is a mansion on Fifth
Avenue, which, in the seasonal absence of its owners, is occupied temporarily
by hobo Victor Moore, who has sneaked inside for the past few years and knows
the ropes of how to live well by being an undiscovered guest.
He
meets newly homeless Don DeFore, who has been evicted from his rattrap boarding
house that’s about to be torn down, and invites him to stay a while in the
mansion until he gets back on his feet. Gale Storm sneaks into the mansion,
too, but she is actually the daughter of the millionaire who owns it. Miss Storm is fresh-faced and sweet (but
unfortunately, her singing here is dubbed). She’s on the lam from her finishing school, just
stopped back to pack some of her clothes—when the disapproving and ultra-moral
Victor Moore catches her in the act. He
and DeFore decide to give the young reprobate another chance, since she pleads
with them that she needed the nice clothes to apply for a job. She doesn’t want them to know who she is,
because her dad and the media are looking for her. This is the start of the happy makeshift
family.
Catch
the sheet music “Oh, Susana!” where Gale applies for a job in
a music store, which makes me think of her television series Oh, Susana!
in the late 1950s. We discussed David C.
Tucker’s book on Gale Storm here and here in these previous posts.
Soon,
they will be joined by a couple of DeFore’s old Army buddies and their wives
and kids. (Our hero Charles Lane has a
brief role as a landlord who doesn’t allow children.) Alan Hale, Jr., is paired
with Dorothea Kent. Mr. Moore is a
little nervous about inviting too many people in the house. For one, he obviously does not want to risk
discovery by the nightly patrol of police who check on the house, and also, he’s
afraid his merry band does not respect the house as he does. Moore is a pretentious hobo. He dresses in the master’s clothes, smokes
his cigars, and expects the people in “his” household to fall under his
command. They share the chores and the childrearing between them.
When
Gale Storm’s father tracks her down, she persuades him to pose as a vagrant who
needs a place to stay, and invites him into the house. Charles Ruggles is the indignant, sputtering
millionaire, who actually started life in poverty and worked his way up. He is a self-made man, and his considerable
pride in being so is shattered at every turn by the dismissive Victor Moore,
who lords it over him and expects Mr. Ruggles to toe the line.
Ruggles
suffers the comic indignity for his daughter’s sake: she has fallen in love
with Don DeFore but wants to know if he can love her for herself and not her
father’s millions. Gale Storm also
invites her mother to join the “family” and introduces her as a likewise
down-and-out soul. Victor Moore puts her
to work as the cook.
Played
by the lovely and ethereal Ann Harding, she and Charles Ruggles are divorced
and have not seen each other in some years.
Her bemused expressions at seeing Charles set down time and again by
Victor Moore are funny and darling, but we soon have tandem rocky love stories: Gale Storm and Don DeFore who are just discovering each other, and the sadder-but-wiser
reunion of Ann Harding and Ruggles. It
is touching that they must fall in love all over again.
Leon
Belasco, who we discussed in this previous post, has a minor role as a musician
in a restaurant. It's all about the character actors. Ask any old movie buff.
Ultimately, this is a tale about home and what makes a home.
Ruggles’ opulent mansion is empty half the year and when he’s in residence,
it’s just him and probably a few servants.
His daughter lives at her finishing school, his ex-wife in a posh hotel
in Florida.
DeFore
and his pals are veterans looking for suitable housing, and they have a
partnership in the works to bid on an Army camp the government is selling,
hoping to renovate the barracks into two-room apartments for veterans like
themselves without a place to live.
Little do they know that their rival bidder is property developer Charles
Ruggles.
Victor
Moore’s home is not necessarily anyplace he hangs his hat: he’s clearly choosy
about his domicile and has expensive tastes.
Ruggles eventually reveals his true identity to the boys, but not to Mr.
Moore. His innocence is to be respected.
Christmas
comes, and if the holiday is all about family, it is also all about home. Home for the holidays. The "family" decorates an enormous tree. A few fun shots are of dialogue carried on
between the branches, this and other whimsical touches by director Roy Del Ruth
made this film quite charming.
Despite the Christmas scene, this classic film seems to have come late
into the Christmas roster, possibly because it was not shown on TV for many
years, but now, of course, is available on DVD and usually part of December
programming on TCM.
The
ideal Christmas is centered around home.
The holiday, ideally, solidifies a family, and then as suddenly as it came, it
leaves. The family leaves. Both the home and the family can be temporary
Christmas endeavors, attached to the holiday that attracts us every year like
homing pigeons. Charles Ruggles leaves
us with a last line to infer that he fully expects Victor Moore to return next
year, and he will be welcome. We don't know if Ruggles means he will pretend to be a homeless man again for Moore's sake, once more suffering his largesse. That is the biggest conundrum for us: we want our nostalgic family Christmases to never change and we try to replicate the rituals every year, but eventually, that becomes impossible.
Except in home movies and classic films, where the universe we loved is still there, unchanged, waiting for us.
