Pinky (1949)

Elia Kazan's Pinky falls into that category of movies with which I have a true love-hate relationship. On the one hand, the movie is one of the earliest and best films about "passing" that has ever been made, showing both the reasons why those who can do it do so and the toll that it takes on both them and their families. On the other hand, I balk at the use of white actress Jeanne Crain to play the light-skinned black woman, Pinky. I've heard tell that Lena Horne was originally slated for the lead role but was eventually rejected, because the script calls for Pinky to kiss her white boyfriend and Kazan feared the audience reaction to a white man kissing a black woman - no matter how light-skinned - on screen in 1949. So a white woman portrays a black woman pretending to be a white woman. Such were racial politics in the good old days. The movie was, in fact, banned in Marshall, Texas, which spurred a court battle that wound up in the U.S. Supreme Court. That case resulted in the First Amendment of the Constitution (i.e. freedom of speech) being extended to cover motion pictures. Yes, Pinky was - and still is - a controversial film.

The story revolves around the title character, Patricia "Pinky" Johnson, who has been sent north by her Granny, Aunt Dicey Johnson (Ethel Waters), to go to school. But once Pinky gets there, she's mistaken for a white woman, and she decides not to correct that mistake. Throughout her school years, and later during her hospital training, Pinky passes for a white woman, using her real name. When her white boyfriend, Doctor Thomas Adams (William Lundigan), proposes to her, Pinky panics and heads back to her Granny's cottage in Mississippi, where she grew up. Once back home, Pinky is chastised by her granny for the "sin" of passing; although, Granny understands the reasons why Pinky passed for a white woman, she cannot overlook the sin of denying her heritage, and she tells Pinky so. The next day, Pinky is subjected to a barrage of racial abuse, including being arrested when she tries to recover money that was stolen from her Granny and nearly being raped by two white men on a lonely country road. After this last incident, Pinky decides to go back up North where she can be treated like a white person. When Granny asks her to stay and help nurse the dying Miss Em (Ethel Barrymore), Pinky refuses flatly, arguing that she won't step-and-fetch for a mean old white dowager. But Granny prevails by playing the guilt card. Seems Miss Em had cared for Granny when she was sick with pneumonia. Feeling guilty, Pinky relents and grudgingly agrees to tend to the old white woman during her last days. Gradually, Pinky develops a close relationship with Miss Em, who turns out not to be such a bad person after all. When Miss Em finally dies, she leaves Pinky her house and land.

At this point, the movie moves into its third act, if you will. Miss Em's only living relative, Melba Woolley (Evelyn Warden) contests the will. She claims that Miss Em must have been crazy to leave her house to a black woman. Furthermore, she argues that Pinky was keeping Miss Em drugged and used undue influence to get her to write the will. Tempers begin to run high in town, and more racial hatred ensues. Eventually, the case goes to court. Pinky is defended by retired Judge Walker (Basil Ruysdael), who was a long-time friend of Miss Em. It looks as if the trial is going Melba's way, with the prosecution using racial slurs and innuendos, all of which are allowed by Judge Shoreham (Raymond Greenleaf). In the end, however, everyone is shocked when Judge Shoreham declares the will to be valid and decides in favor of Pinky. At this point, Dr. Adams shows back up and begs Pinky to sell the house, the land, and the furniture, leave "these people," and come away with him. He's taken a post in Denver, where he points out that nobody will find out about her. But Pinky has decided to that she's tired of lying, tired of pretending, and tired of denying who and what she is. Besides, now she has a purpose in life. She sends Dr. Adams packing, and, with the help of the local white and black doctors, she turns Miss Em's mansion into a clinic and daycare for local black children and a school for black women who want to become nurses. And that's where it ends, with Pinky helping her own people to better themselves.

The world that Pinky shows is one that truly existed in this country until the Civil Rights Movement swept it away. Black folks lived separate from white folks, but not equal to them. There were few - if any - economic opportunities available to black people. Most were relegated to jobs as servant or laborers. Aunt Dicey is a wash woman, scrubbing the clothes of white people by hand, using a wash board and water that's heated on a fire. And since the courts and the police were all white, there wasn't much of a chance for blacks to receive anything like justice. Kazan shows all of this in Pinky, from the run-down shacks in the black neighborhood to the subtle - and not so subtle - forms of racism that went on all of the time. The sets are marvelous, and the actors all do superb jobs in their roles. I have no argument with this film on any technical grounds. As I stated earlier, my only argument is with which actors Kazan chose to showcase the racial inequalities that existed in Jim Crow's America. The movie is very good. It would have been outstanding had Kazan only had the chutzpah to cast a black actress in the lead role.

Pinky is filmed in glorious black-and-white and is rated G. It has a 102-minute runtime.

Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows

I've been trying for several weeks now to figure out what to say about Guy Ritchie's Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows. (I hate titles with colons. Don't you? Makes me feel like I'm back in college, reading academic articles.) Anyway, what can I say about this movie? Well, it was very good. It was very well made, artistic, technically sound. It was suspenseful and exciting and it kept my interest throughout. There were moments of great humor. Robert Downey Jr. was magnificent in the lead, as was Jude Law in the number two slot. In short, it was a very good movie and I'd gladly see it again. In fact, I'm seriously considering purchasing both this movie and its predecessor. I just have one niggling little problem with Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows. It's not Sherlock Holmes! Let's be blunt about this. Sherlock Holmes was not - I repeat, NOT - and action figure. He didn't go in for fisticuffs, and he especially didn't engage in modern martial arts style kickboxing. Sherlock Holmes was an intellectual detective. He solved crimes not by racing about, fighting, shooting and that sort of thing. In quite a few of his cases, in fact, he scarcely leaves his smokey rooms. Instead, he holes up and ponders the case, sending his Baker Street Irregulars all over the city looking for clues, firing off telegrams to gain information. For Sherlock Holmes, it was always a game of the mind.

So who was a good Sherlock Holmes? Well, Basil Rathbone did a serviceable job in the fourteen Homes films shot in the 1940s, but Rathbone is such a cold fish that it's hard to be sympathetic with his character the way you can be with Downey's. And Nigel Bruce's Watson was a bumbling idiot who couldn't tell which end of the gun the bullet came out of, not anything like Law's passionate, hard-fighting, pistol-wielding Watson. The best Holmes - at least to my mind that is - was Jeremy Bret, a consummate actor who literally made the character his own. Bret's Holmes was intense, cerebral, yet he possessed a compassion for those who were the victims of crimes. When he would pontificate at length on the quality of a piece of paper or a bit of tobacco, you knew you were seeing a master at work, a man who devoted himself to his craft to the exclusion of everything else. And he scarcely needed to use his fists or a gun, because he could talk most criminals into giving themselves up to him peacefully.

But back to our new Holmes. As I say, Downey gives a superb performance as this new, fast-talking, fast-acting Holmes, and there's nothing wrong with that, I guess. Young people today, having been raised on music videos, action films and video games, want a faster-paced, wittier Sherlock Holmes, and Downey and Ritchie give them just that. And Law's Watson is, I suppose, a character more in keeping with someone who was both a doctor and a soldier. And I will give kudos to the set design. Watching A Game of Shadows, you truly get the feeling you are in Victorian England, with its mix of incredible wealth and extreme poverty, luxury and filth, high society and working classes. There's dirt and mud and horse droppings. Everything seems to be under construction - the buildings, the bridges, the streets, all of the landmarks that we associate with Jolly Olde England. And there is a lot of action and gunfire - including one very big gun - and racing about on horseback and people getting thrown off of trains, and all that sort of thing. As I said - the film kept me riveted. I highly recommend it. But once you've seen A Game of Shadows, go grab a copy of Arthur Conan Doyle's work and find out what the "real" Sherlock Holmes was like. You never know. You may find that you prefer the original.

Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows is rated PG and has a runtime of 129 action-packed minutes.

It's a Wonderful Life (1946)

Frank Capra's It's a Wonderful Life is the granddaddy of all Christmas movies; although, it certainly didn't start out that way. The movie nearly flopped when it opened, and during its first theater run failed to earn back the money it took to make it. Still, this film has endured down through the decades to become one of the most beloved movies of all time. And it's not hard to see why. The film's got a lot of power in it. Filmed in 1946, a lot of the actors were still carrying raw memories of World War II. The strain of the war shows in their faces and in their voices. This was probably Jimmy Stewart's first really serious role, and he pulls a lot of emotion from his time in the war into his character. When he's praying in the bar scene, those tears on his face are real. When he kisses Donna Reed for the first time, that's real passion you're seeing. In fact, that scene had to be cut short, because it got a little too hot for the censors. So, yeah, this is a powerful movie. I thought so the very first time I saw it when I was about ten years old. I've thought so every time I've watched it since then. I still think so today. In my book, that's what makes a film a classic. It never gets old. It never runs out of gas. As they say, it's got legs.

Stewart plays George Bailey, a man who had big dreams when he was younger. Didn't we all? Well, he was gonna sail around the world, go to college, become an engineer, design dams and bridges and skyscrapers. He was gonna be somebody. People would remember his name. He'd leave his mark on the world. Remember when you were gonna do all of that? I do. But life got in George's way, like it does for a lot of us. When his father dies, George takes over the running of the savings and loan bank that his family owns. Why? Cuz if he doesn't, then the board of directors will sell out to the greedy Mr. Potter (Lionel Barrymore), the richest man in town. If Potter gets a hold of the savings and loan, he'll foreclose on most of the people who have mortgages there. That's just the kind of sweet soul he is. So George takes over and he gives his college money to his younger brother Harry (Todd Karns). When Harry finishes college, he's supposed to come back and take over the savings and loan so that George can go to college too. But Harry meets and marries Ruth (Virginia Patton). Ruth's father owns a company and wants Harry to come to work for him. George is left to run the savings and loan. He marries Mary, and instead of going on a honeymoon George struggles to save the bank during the Great Depression. Time goes by. George and Mary have children. George starts designing houses and creates a new subdivision. When World War II comes, George is declared 4F and has to stay at home. Meanwhile, little brother Harry goes off and becomes a hero. Wins the medal of honor. On the day that Harry is set to come home, tragedy strikes.

Uncle Billy (Thomas Mitchell), George's partner, loses $8,000 of the savings and loan's money, which conveniently ends up in old Mr. Potter's grasping hands. He neglects to tell George about his latest windfall. Instead, he threatens to call the police and have George arrested for embezzlement. To top things off, the bank examiner comes to town. Distraught, George leaves home and goes to a bar, where he offers his urgent prayer. Then, deciding that his life has been a complete failure, George decides to kill himself. This is where Clarence (Henry Travers) enters the picture. Clarence is an angel. He's been sent down to help George find his way back home. George tells Clarence that he wishes he'd never been born. Clarence grants him his wish. Suddenly, a thousand tiny - and not so tiny - changes take place in George's home town of Bedford Falls. George gets the opportunity to find out what the world would have been like if he had never been born. The savings and loan would have gone under when his father died, and old man Potter would have taken away the homes of a lot of people. What's worse, Potter would have gained control of the entire town and renamed it Potterville. It would have been a nasty place to live too. Mary would have been a spinster her whole life. George's children would have never been born. Hundreds of people that George helped over the years would have led much worse lives. Most importantly, Harry - whose life George saved when they were kids - would have died, and he wouldn't have been there during the war to save the lives of a lot of other soldiers. In the end, George realizes that during his insignificant life, he touched the lives of countless people, who in turn touched the lives of still others. George's goodness and generosity, his habit of putting other people's
needs ahead of his own, created a circle of goodness that spread outward over the passing years. With a little bit of heavenly intervention, George learns that he truly did have a wonderful life.

It's a Wonderful Life is definitely a feel good film, and if you don't feel good after watching it, then there's something wrong with you. It celebrates the contributions of the common man (and woman), the people who, in George's words, "do most of the working and and paying and living and dying" in this world. It tells us that each one of us, whether we realize it or not, whether we are important or rich or famous or not, touches on the lives of a lot of other people, sometimes for good, sometimes not. But we do, and when we do, we cause a ripple effect, just like the old rock and pond analogy. It's a Wonderful Life reminds us that this is so, that we really can't behave any old way we want with impunity, because our words and deeds will have an effect on those around us. And, as my mother used to say, eventually the chickens will come home to roost. We all get our payback in the end. For George, who always put others first, his payback is good. By the end of this movie, you'll be wondering what kind of a payback you're in store for. I know I wonder.

It's a Wonderful Life is rated G and is filmed in glorious black-and-white. It has a runtime of 130 minutes.

Other Christmas Movies

People say to me, "But, BeenJammin? What about all of the other Christmas movies? Why don't you review them?" Easy answer: my blog, my taste. More difficult answer: while they may all classify as Christmas movies, to me they fall far short of the mark. In other words, if they don't leave me with warm, glowing fuzzies, I ain't counting them in my Christmas movie list. But, for the sake of argument, I will address a few of these movies here, so that everyone will know why I don't include them in my list.

National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation (1989): Chevy Chase and Beverly D'Angelo star in a stupid movie about stupid people doing lots of stupid stuff at Christmas time. Pretty much sophomoric humor, but what more can you expect from National Lampoon?

Home Alone (1990): Maccauley Culkin and Joe Pesci engage in cruel, senseless, slapstick violence, the kind of thing that went out with the three stooges. Oh, and the kid's family are pathetic.

A Christmas Story (1983): Peter Billingsly as a painfully cute kid trying everything to convince his skeptical mother to let him have a BB gun for Christmas. Admittedly a very cute movie. I enjoyed it a lot the first fifty or so times I saw it, but it has really started to wear on me over the years. I can't call it a classic myself cuz it doesn't really wear well, if ya know what I mean.

Elf (2003): I hate Will Ferrell. Hate him. Can't stand the man. Don't think he's funny at all. I have only liked one movie that he was in and this wasn't it. Oh yeah, and did I mention that I hate Will Ferrell?

The Santa Clause (1994): Tim Allen kills Santa Claus and - much to his horror -not only must he replace that jolly old elf but he starts to turn into him. You know how it goes? First he denies, then he resists, then he has a life-changing moment and accepts his fate. Whatever. Too predictable to really be any good.

Christmas with the Kranks (2004): A couple decide to skip Christmas and go on a cruise instead. This upsets the neighbors. Once again, too predictable to be funny. Yawn.

Earnest Saves Christmas (1988): Puh-LEEZE!

The Ice Harvest (2005): John Cusack and Billy Bob Thornton ruin everyone's Christmas. I don't think so.

Jack Frost (1998): Michael Keaton as a dad who dies and comes back as a snow man! Mmm-mmm! Sign me up for that yawn fest.

The Polar Express (2004): An all-singing, all-dancing, musical extravaganza in which computer-animated stick figures ride a computer-animated train all the way to the North Pole to visit a computer-animated Santa Claus. Truly, the train is the only good thing in the movie.

Bad Santa (2003): Billy Bob Thornton plays a con man who poses as Santa so he can rob stores on Christmas Eve. Okay, Billy Bob Thornton and Christmas should be mutually exclusive. The man's just too sleezy to be allowed anywhere near this holiday.

So there you have my take on some of the more popular "Christmas" movies that - IMHO - are not very Christmasy. None of these movies leave me with the Christmas spirit. They don't give me the desire to do good to other people. Some of them are all about the commercial side of Christmas. Others just happen to be set at Christmas time. But none of them do it for me.

The Bishop's Wife (1947)

Henry Kosters' The Bishop's Wife is a Christmas movie that brings to the screen all of the stuff that Christmas should be about. David Niven plays Bishop Henry Brougham, a man of the cloth whose single-minded and so far unsuccessful attempt to raise money for a new cathedral has caused him to lose touch with his wife Julia (Loretta Young), his daughter Debby (Karolyn Grimes), and the people he is supposed to be serving. When the bishop prays for guidance, he's immediately visited by Dudley (Cary Grant), a man who claims to be an angel. Once the bishop is convinced of Dudley's heavenly origins, the bishop expects him to solve his troubles with the cathedral. But Dudley has a different mission. He's not the least bit concerned about the building of another church. He's come to save the Bishop's soul before it's too late. He's there to remind Bishop Brougham of the thing that he's forgotten. He's there to remind him that people are more important than buildings, and that his own family is more important than anything else.

Dudley goes about this in a most unusual way. He starts courting Julia. Soon, Julia is spending all of her time with Dudley, and Debby can't wait for him to come and tell her stories. Even the family dog prefers Dudley to Bishop Brougham. And why not? Dudley's handsome and charming and witty, and he knows everything. Bishop Brougham is worried and irritable and way too busy to tell stories or take Julia to dinner or spend time chatting with old friends. But not Dudley. He talks the Brougham's old friend, Professor Wutheridge (Monty Woolley) into finishing his long-promised history of Rome. He even talks the tight-fisted Mrs. Hamilton into giving all of her money to helping the poor. Eventually, the bishop sees that he, through his blind ambition, has almost lost the things he values most. He orders Dudley to leave, telling him that Julia means more to him than his life. Upon hearing that, Dudley departs, but not before telling Henry what a lucky man he is.

The Bishop's Wife is a wonderful, feel-good movie about rediscovering your true purpose in life, as well as what's really important. Cary Grant turns in a marvelous performance as Dudley, the angel. This is one of the first films to feature the post-war Cary Grant, who's performances are more measured and serious than the pre-war Grant. Loretta Young is as beautiful as ever as the titular character, who mourns for the old days when her husband was just a parish priest and they had fun together and friends among the common people. David Niven gives one of the finest performances of his career as the harried bishop who's lost his direction in life. This film was produced shortly after Niven's wife died in a senseless accident, and Niven's anger and guilt show through in his characterization of Bishop Brougham. But to me, the real star of this film is the incomparable Mothy Woolley, who steals every scene that he's in. Watch him as he struggles in vain to figure out how Dudley knows him. Observe his facial expressions in the wonderful scene where Dudley keeps magically refilling the professor's sherry glass. Woolley is priceless, as is James Gleason as the cheerful cabby, Sylvester, who ends up in a skating party with Dudley and Julia. And all of these wonderful actors come together to deliver the marvelous message that people are what Christmas is really all about. It's peace on earth, good will to all. That's a message we could all use a little more of in these times of uncertainty.

The Bishop's Wife is rated G. It's filmed in glorious black-and-white and has a runtime of 109 minutes.

Miracle on 34th Street (1947)

Okay, now we're getting into familiar territory, aren't we. Tell me truthfully, now. Is there anyone who hasn't been living in a yurt in Outer Mongolia for their entire lives who doesn't know the plot of this film? (No offense to Outer Mongolians implied, really.) But, for the sake of the two or three people out there who haven't seen the movie, I'll fill you in. The rest of you will just have to bear with me. It's Thanksgiving Day. New York City. 1946. A man (Edmund Gwenn), portly, elderly, with a white beard and twinkly eyes shows up at the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade and agrees to stand in for an inebriated Santa Clause. Everyone is captivated by him, and he's hired to be Macy's store Santa for the Christmas season. There's only one problem. This gentleman, who has been living at an old-folks home on Long Island for a while now, claims that he really IS Santa Clause. The one and only Santa Clause. Says his name is Kris Kringle. Won't say how old he is. Says his next of kin are Comet, Cupid, Donner, Blitzen...you know the rest. And he's a delight to everyone who meets him, including Susan Walker (Natalie Wood), daughter of Macy's parade organizer, Doris Walker (Maureen O'Hara). He boosts Macy's Christmas sales by telling customers where to go to find things that Macy's doesn't carry. At first, this shocks the management, but when delighted customers start spending more at Macy's, Kris gets a raise. Yes, everyone loves Kris. Everyone, that is, with the sole exception Mr. Sawyer (Porter Hall), the store's personnel manager. An amateur psychiatrist, he decides that Kris is delusional and dangerous and must be put away for everyone's safety. When Kris bops Sawyer on the head during an argument, Sawyer convinces Doris to have him taken to Bellevue for a psychiatric evaluation. Disheartened, Kris fails the test on purpose. Now it's up to Doris' neighbor and would-be suitor Fred Gailey (John Payne) to get Kris out of the Asylum. This leads to a hilarious court case, with Gailey using a branch of the US Government itself to prove his claim that Kris cannot be insane because he actually is who he claims to be - Santa Claus. And while all of this is going on, Fred is trying his best to woo the once-bitten-twice-shy Doris, and Kris is doing his best to convince both Doris and Susan that not only does Santa Clause exist but also that Kris is the real McCoy. Many "miracles" great and small occur during the course of the story, but none greater or more important than Doris and Susan finding out that they can believe in things that don't make any rational sense.

Miracle on 34th Street is a delightful Christmas movie that's all about the power of faith, the idea that sometimes you just have to believe in something even if it doesn't make sense to do so. The story is charming, just the kind of thing people need and want to see during the holiday season. Ed Gwenn is the perfect Santa Clause, portly, with his lovely white beard and his soft voice. He is the perfect embodiment of old St. Nick. In fact, he looks like he could have been the model for countless Coca Cola ads. Maureen O'Hara is great as the divorced single mother, trying to raise her daughter to be rational and level-headed. And eight-year-old Natalie Wood is utterly charming as little Susan, just learning how to believe in things that most children her age believe whole-heartedly. Most of the other characters are portrayed by Hollywood's stable of peerless character actors - something that seems to be missing in Hollywood these days. If there's one weak spot in the film, it's John Payne playing the would-be suitor. Leading men are terrible parts in films of this nature, because there's just not a lot you can do with them. He's handsome and he's smart and he's successful, but he doesn't get the great lines that the character actors or even Doris and Susan get, so he just sort of hangs around and helps to move the action forward, but he's not exactly memorable. On a trivia note, all of the footage or the parade was taken at the actual 1946 parade, in which Ed Gwenn was the official Santa Claus and performed all of the official duties associated with that position. Yes, that's really Gwenn addressing the crowd from the top of the marquee in front of Macy's.

There have been several remakes of Miracle on 34th Street, including a so-so made-for-TV version in 1974 with Sebastian Cabot, and a horrendous butchering of the story in 1994 starring Richard Attenborough. Best to avoid all of the remakes - they cannot compare to the original. Neither can the colorized versions that are widely available. To me, they look like those hand-tinted photographs from by-gone days. No black-and-white film should ever be colored. It's a travesty. Miracle on 34th Street was filmed in glorious black-and-white, and that's how it should be viewed. The film is rated G and it has a runtime of 96 minutes.

White Christmas (1954)

Yet another Christmas movie that starts in World War II, Michael Curtiz's White Christmas was the top grossing movie for 1954 and an instant holiday classic. A sort of a remake of Holiday Inn, it was supposed to reunite Bing Crosby and Fred Astaire, but Astaire turned down the part saying he had retired. The screenplay was then rewritten for Donald O'Conner, but when he dropped out, Danny Kaye was tapped for the film. The rest, as they say all too often, was movie history. The film follows the adventures of Bob Wallace (Crosby) and Phil Davis (Kaye), two song and dance men who hook up during the dark days of WWII and go on to become famous as directors and producers of their own variety show. After closing down their show for the Christmas holiday, Bob and Phil go to see a potential act for their show, the Haynes sisters, Betty (Rosemary Clooney) and her younger sister Judy (Vera-Ellen). Phil and Judy hit it off right from the start, but Bob and Betty need a little encouragement, so Phil wrangles Bob into joining the girls in Vermont, where they're performing at the Columbia Inn. When they arrive at the inn, Bob and Phil discover that it's owned by their old commanding officer, General Tom Waverly (Dean Jagger). The boys are delighted to see him, until they find out from the receptionist, Emma (Mary Wickes), that the inn is losing money. See, it's not snowing. In Vermont. During ski season.

Well, Bob and Phil can't let an old pal from the army down, so they bring all of the cast and crew from their show to Vermont to rehearse over Christmas. But there are bigger problems brewing. General Waverly is feeling forgotten. After all, he's a general, one of the men who won the greatest war of all, an important leader, and he's stuck running a failing hotel and nightclub. So Bob and Phil come up with another great idea - they'll get as many men as they can find from the general's old division to come up to Vermont to show the general that he's not been forgotten. In the process of arranging all of this, though, Betty thinks Bob is going to use the general's hard-luck story to make a fortune for himself. Which he'd never do. But she won't listen to reason. After much misunderstanding and several testy moments, everybody gathers onstage to praise General Waverly. And as Bob and Betty and Phil and Judy sing "White Christmas," it starts to snow outside. The general is happy, the inn is saved, our two happy couples are headed for marital bliss, and everyone lives happily ever after, which is how a Christmas movie should end. Well, shouldn't it?

White Christmas holds a special place in my heart. I first saw the movie in December 1970, just a few months after my grandmother had died, and the film reminded me of her in some strange way. Maybe it was the set design, maybe it was the music by Irving Berlin, maybe it was the presence of actors who hailed from my grandmother's day. Whatever it was, this film became part of my mental backdrop against which my life has played out. That's what great films do. They seep inside of you and form a part of your subconscious metaphor of the world, the archetype against which you measure everything else in your life. I could have picked a lot worse movies to do this with. I mean, imagine if it had been Ed Wood's Plan 9 from Outer Space! But White Christmas is a fun, happy, carefree movie, another of those films that would be better termed a "holiday movie" than a "Christmas movie." It really has nothing to do with Christmas other than the time of year during which it is set. But who really cares about that. There's singing and dancing and beautiful sets and gorgeous costumes and wonderful music by Irving Berlin and its all wrapped up in a luscious widescreen technicolor package (called VistaVision) that will knock your socks off.

White Christmas is filmed in VistaVision and it has a runtime of 120 minutes.