Shut it down, Lemon!
Wrap-wrap-wrap up!
Hi Friends!
Insert tumble weed gif here.
Almost everyone I talk to is closing tabs, hanging out GONE FISHIN signs, and generally pulling up stakes until the new year. Deserved, all! I, too, am pulling all kinds of plugs, but in a time off way, not a Dr. Kevorkian-way. If you got that reference without Googling it, you are dangerously close to receiving your AARP membership card.
I had a Nevahhh Seen It! Holiday schmaliday edition in the works in the form of a conversation between me and my pop culture co-pilot (though really more Han and not at all Chewy), Eric Pierce of All the Fan Fare. We both screened Miracle on 34th Street and we both shrugged and said, “Meh.” Rather than try and squeeze blood from a movie from the 40s, we decided to reconvene for another film that we’re both excited to kabitz about sometime over the winter. Stay tuned!
But in the spirit of THE SEASON and this project, here is my tiny take on this film, which was released in 1947, won three academy awards, and was selected for the National Film Registry at the Library of Congress in 2005. FANCY!
A man claiming to be Kris Kringle shows up at the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade where he gets pushed into filling in for a disgraced, inebriated Santa. He’s such a hit that he’s offered the job to “play” Santa at Macy’s for the holiday season. Kris is hired by a woman executive named Doris Walker. At first I thought, “THAT must be the miracle they’re referring to!:” a woman in retail in 1947 who is not a secretary or a make-up counter girl. Doris is a single mom raising a little girl named Susan (played by Natalie Wood). Doris is determined to bring her daughter up as a realist. Ergo, no Tooth Fairy, no Easter Bunny, and definitely no such thing as Santa Claus. A series of events unfold revolving around this mysterious Kringle fella that ultimately compels the public to affirm their belief in this larger-than-life North Pole myth. At the same time, both Susan and Doris have their rigid truthy-truthiness stance tested and destroyed. Susan becomes newly awakened to the joys and possibilities of imagination, dreams, and play while Doris starts to entertain the possibility of having love in her life again.
I wanted to feel all flooded with goopy holiday mush, but I just didn’t. Despite the film’s central heartwarming premise, it is pretty unsentimental. Some of this comes down to a matter of film choices. For instance, there’s a scene where a woman brings a little Dutch girl to visit Santa. She tells Santa the girl doesn’t speak any English so, like, don’t bother. Also: guardian of the YEAR, right here. Kris Kringle is magic! He can speak Klingon if that’s what the situation calls for. He speaks to the little girl in Dutch. Her whole being seems to levitate. They even sing a little song together. It’s beautiful, sure, yes, of course. Did I lunge for the tissue box? No.
Now, a remake of Miracle came out in 1994. I happened to catch this same scene in a clip on Instagram because I’ve now lingered on so many of those “Behind the scenes of National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation” content that this stuff is just a permanent part of my feed. In the remake they changed the little girl character to be Deaf. And the woman with her also explains, “She can’t hear.” Again, very sad-trombone-oh-well. Santa just grins and starts signing away. He asks her name, what she wants for Christmas. He tells her she’s beautiful and sweet and kind AND I AM CRYING INTO MY KEYBOARD RIGHT NOW!!! Just underneath this scene is a very sneaky, haunting string melody totally amping up the emotional blackmail factor. And that is really what you need to make a feely holiday film that you are going to watch year after year for the sole purpose of getting your seasonal weep on whilst gnawing on a tube of gingerbread dough.
The other thing I came across in relation to this film was a New York Times review from none other than good ole Bosley Crowther–with that kind of name you are destined to be either someone who races yachts for a living or a Shakespeare professor.
For all those blasé skeptics who do not believe in Santa Claus—and likewise for all those natives who have grown cynical about New York—but most especially for all those patrons who have grown weary of the monotonies of the screen, let us heartily recommend the Roxy's new picture, Miracle on 34th Street. As a matter of fact, let's go further: let's catch its spirit and heartily proclaim that it is the freshest little picture in a long time, and maybe even the best comedy of this year.
I loved the idea of a movie (or any art really) serving as the antidote for urban burnout as well as the psychological and emotional fry of being human in 1947. Because this could just as easily describe a lot of us right now, today, in the year of our lord two-thousand-and-twenty-four. I say more of that, please–originality, imagination, a fresh take or approach or idea, a risk ! Did you know that a Bill and Ted 4 is in the works? And I will leave it at that.
On a personal note…
I can’t say enough about how grateful I am to everyone who joins me here on the regular. I’m continuing to have a lot of fun meeting and connecting with both readers and other writers/creatives. This year I launched a super fun project with Michael Maupin of StoryShed (get yourself some!) called The Curious George Questionnaire. I personally love these types of esoteric-ish Q/A forms. They are deceptive in the way they end up revealing quite a bit about the respondent. Poke around our ‘stack—the people we’ve had participate so far are nothing short of amazing; sign up if you are so inclined (it is free and a great kind of nibble for your brain); and stay tuned for a whole host of new guests in 2025!
I’m looking forward to more discoveries and growth in general, and definitely more nonsense. As I have said, “Humor saves, sorry Jesus.”
Thanks for letting me have a little space in your nook. I’m happy to be here with you.
See you all in a few weeks! Stay well and be good to YOU!
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Ok, but what’s it say about me if I’m old enough to get the Kevorkian reference, have had a crush on Natalie Wood, but am too young to know she was in this movie?
Am I… Am I in some sort of generational purgatory?
More importantly: we might argue about what city rules the most, but these pics can’t be beat!
“Go have fun with a Finn, Terry.” —Basil Fawlty