When I started writing this blog nearly 4 years ago now, my hope was to share my knowledge and opinions on a wide range of topics related to all things cinema.  And for all these years, I have expanded this thing into an extensive body of work.  I run twelve different series of articles on here and to date I have reviewed 50 plus films for this site, as well as covered exciting public film exhibitions within the Los Angeles community where I live.  Conventions, festivals, art galleries; it’s all an effort from me to all of you, my readers, to give you an open look into my passion as a fan of cinematic art.  And believe me, I have enjoyed this journey we’ve taken together.  If I didn’t have this blog, I probably wouldn’t be doing all the same things.  I’d still be watching new films every week, going to all these film festivals, and attending these conventions, but this blog also gives me even more of a purpose to.  I’m not just a participant, but also a reporter, using this site to share experiences with those out there who otherwise would’ve missed out on them.  Now truth be told, I am still an amateur at best, but this site is also an unfiltered expression of my own passion.  I write on this site, because it is something that I take pleasure in.  And even if my readership may still be limited to friends, family, and the always welcome curious newcomer, I feel honored to have at least built something that other people can appreciate.  The reason, you might ask, why I am waxing nostalgic all of a sudden, is because with this article I have now reached 200 posting on this website.  For a milestone like this, I tried to think about what would be the best subject for the occasion.  And for #200, I thought it would be fitting to talk to you about my all time favorite movie, Lawrence of Arabia (1962), and how it has shaped my life ever since I first saw it nearly 18 years ago.

For a lot of people, their favorite movies usually end up being something tied to their childhood, or perhaps a discovery in their adulthood that changed their life forever.  I’m a child of the 80’s, an era where there was no shortage of influential movies that I could have latched onto.  So, why did a movie released 20 years before I was born make such a difference in my life?  It might have been just because it was the right movie at the right moment for me.  From early childhood, I was already a keenly aware observer of the aura of cinema.  It was mostly started by my passionate love of Disney movies.  I was the kid in school who had seen every Disney animated classic up to that point, and knew them all by heart.  I was also the kind of know-it-all kid who wanted to share all of my fandom with everyone else; probably to level of obnoxiousness.  Still, it was a passion that spurned me on to pursue more knowledge and expand my expertise.  Once I became a teenager, I started to move beyond just Disney fandom and actively take interest in movies of all kinds.  I became more interested in film history, and found myself watching channels like HBO and Turner Classic Movies more than I was watching the Disney Channel.  The yearly run-up to the Academy Awards interested me more than before, and ever since turning 13, I have not missed seeing a single Best Picture winner in it’s first run in theaters ever since.  But, even though I was aware of my interest in film at the time, what I lacked was the knowledge of what to do with it.  I was certainly not the only person who loved movies this much; but I felt that there was something about them that was calling out to me specifically and pushing me towards something else.

And then there was the summer of 1999.  I had just finished my sophomore year in high school and was looking for that one thing that would guide me towards what I would do with myself going into adulthood.  At the same time, I was trying to catch up on my film history knowledge as well; more specifically, I was trying to see every movie that had won Best Picture at the Oscars up to that point.  This particular summer, a golden opportunity came to my hometown of Eugene, Oregon.  Columbia Pictures was showcasing a traveling film fest, spotlighting movies in their catalog that had recently been selected for the American Film Institute’s Top 100.  The fest came to the last remaining old movie house theater in my town, the now re-purposed McDonald Theater, and was playing a dozen of these films the way they were originally intended to be seen; on the big screen.  The opening film of this fest was Lawrence of Arabia, and it was an opportunity that I didn’t want to waste.  I was just old enough to start seeing movies on my own, so my parents allowed me to go by myself to the theater to see it.  For an older movie, the screening was still surprisingly popular, and it ended up being a packed house.  I, at the time, was only expecting to be entertained for 3 1/2 hours and have another title crossed off my Oscar watch-list.  What I got instead was a trans-formative moment; the closest I’ve ever had to a religious experience in my life.  I was stunned by how much this movie drew me in.  The flawless use of editing, music, performance, and most importantly visuals to tell this story.  It was at that point that I no longer had just a love for film.  Now I had a love for film-making.  I had seen the pinnacle of what cinema can accomplish, and now my obsession had changed from wanting to see every movie to wanting to understand how they were made.  I returned home that evening almost in a daze.  It took me a few weeks more to put into words the impact that that afternoon in the theater had on me.  And then it dawned on me what I needed to do.  I had to become a filmmaker.

I don’t know if things would’ve been different if I had seen Lawrence of Arabia for the first time on television as opposed to on a big screen in a theater packed with other people like myself.  I may be sitting here today writing about a different movie or a different subject entirely.  Lawrence might not even have become my favorite movie.  But, it did because it was the one movie that put into focus everything that I was trying to understand and steered me in the direction that I have followed ever since.  In my senior year of high school, I enrolled in my first ever film class; an elective course that mixed a film history and literature curriculum with film making projects.  In addition, I joined the school newspaper and became it’s film critic.  After graduating, I spent my college years broadening my film knowledge further.  I sought out films of all kinds; especially the ones that are not widely available like international, art house, and independent flicks.  While working towards my Bachelors Degree in English at the University of Oregon, I also earned a certificate in film studies, giving me not only a broader knowledge of the film arts, but also the skills to write more articulately about them.  And while attending college, I also lucked out in getting a job at a movie theater, where I could watch as many as 80-100 films a year, if I so choose.  But, my goal in life was not just to learn about movies; it was to participate in making them.  That is why I wanted to spend my graduate years in a formal film school environment.  In my last year at the U of O, I applied to three different film schools, and was accepted to every one.  I ended up choosing to attend my top pick overall, which was Chapman University in Orange, California.  There, I got my first real taste of actual film-making, and was able to make friends and acquaintances of some truly talented and impassioned future filmmakers like myself as well as professionals, many of whom have helped me to become a better student of the art-from overall and given me encouragement that have I always appreciated.  I graduated with my Masters Degree in Screenwriting and since then have been trying to make a life for myself in the movie capital of the world, and all because of that one afternoon that I decided that I wanted watch Lawrence of Arabia for the first time.

But, stepping away from the impact that it left on me, I’d like to look at exactly why this movie ended up being the one that changed my life.  Lawrence of Arabia, despite it’s universal praise, may not exactly be to everyone’s taste.  It’s 3 1/2 hours long, about a little known historical period in time in the early 20th century, and centered on a protagonist who is both narcissistic and dangerously naive.  And yet, what director David Lean delivered became the cinematic epic that all others are now judged by.  What he did was take this history lesson of the Arab Revolt against the Ottoman Turks in World War I, a campaign that one character describes as “a sideshow of a sideshow” in history, and made it into a story biblical in both scale and theme.  And this was accomplished through a perfect execution of it’s presentation.  The 70mm widescreen photography alone is unmatched in the history of cinema.  David Lean and cinematographer Freddie Young not only pushed the cameras to the limit of their capabilities out there in the unforgiving Arabian desert locations, but they also managed to invent new techniques on the fly that filmmakers today have them to thank for.  Lawrence for example was the first ever film to capture the mirages on film; a distortion caused by extreme heat that is commonly seen by the naked eye, but is near impossible to capture on film.  Using extremely sensitive telephoto lenses, we got the first ever mirage captured on film, used to spectacular effect to introduce Omar Sharif’s Ali into the movie.  High definition blu-ray technology has been a blessing to this movie recently, giving us a full appreciation of it’s spectacular visuals, but even still, this is a movie that must be seen on the biggest screen possible.  It’s why I fell in love with the first time.  I still remember the goosebumps I got when I saw the establishing shot of the Wadi Rum valley where Anthony Quinn’s Auda abu Tayi made his camp.  This was the movie that convinced me that anything was possible in film, because it showed how cinematic language can be transcendent, that it finds the beauty in the most unexpected details, and make a “sideshow” feel like the greatest story ever told.

But, in the years since watching it the first time, and after gaining a broader knowledge of film-making in general, I have also come to appreciate the movie beyond just the wonder of the spectacle.  At it’s center, Lawrence of Arabia is about a singular journey of one man’s self discovery.  T.E. Lawrence (played in a career-defining performance by Peter O’Toole) is one of history’s most celebrated figures, but at the same time, also one of it’s most enigmatic.  We don’t know exactly what drove this well-educated Englishman to spend so many years embedded among the various tribes of Arabia and help them to both drive out their Turkish oppressors and form a unified nation under the rule of King Feisal of Mecca (played by Alec Guinness in the film).  Not only that, but he did so in defiance of his own home nation, who sought to claim Arabia for themselves after deposing the Ottoman Empire.  The movie examines what would drive a man like him to do something like that, and what the film ultimately finds is that nobody really knew what drove Lawrence’s ambition; not even himself.  Lawrence, in the film, is a man driven by passion and a desire for accomplishing the impossible.  But at the same time, we also see that he’s a person who dangerously tests his own limits in a kind of perverse self mutilation.  He playfully puts out matches with his own fingers, and reveals that the trick is not minding that it hurts. Overall, he is a man who’s incapable of putting his own self preservation ahead of his desires.  While it can sometimes enable him to accomplish inhuman tasks, like when he miraculously saves a lost companion in the desert, it also drives him towards a dangerous path of being swallowed into a hell of his own making, as the film’s more disillusioned second half brilliantly portrays.  It’s a remarkable character study of a truly enigmatic man, and it’s that exploration that I find so fascinating and reflective in my own journey as a film student.

Because of my need to test my purpose in life and strive to succeed in a career in film, despite all the odds placed in my way, I can understand a little more about what drove Lawrence so deep into the desert.  We are all driven by a little bit of our own madness sometimes, but it’s how well we manage our ambitions and focus our madness into creativity that enables us to do great things in life.  I certainly am no where near as lost in the wild as Lawrence was, but there’s something in his character and story that I identify with.  I could have chosen a different avenue of life; taken a steady 9-5 job in some office cubicle back home in Oregon and just lived an average life where I would have been safe and content.  But instead, I have followed my passions which have taken me away from home and have allowed me to get ever so much closer to living out my dreams.  Of course, it hasn’t all been without risk (substantial student debt and all the dangers that big city life throws at me), but had I not taken those risks and accomplished something out of it, would I have been as content as I am now.  When Lawrence decides to challenge all rational and cross the impassable Nafud Desert, he never stops to think about the cost; only the final destination.  It’s reckless, but once it’s accomplished, he becomes a hero to all around him.  Will I ever achieve something like that in my life time?  I don’t know, but it’s better to test my limits than to try to live by them and do nothing.  I never thought that 4 years ago that I would have it in me to write a blog every week, and yet I took a shot at it and here we are, 200 articles later.  The same with attending film school and working in the film industry; I never would have known if these were right for me or not had I not taken a chance and applied my name for acceptance into these institutions.  The journey still has a ways to go, and there are regrets over time about some roads not taken, but the final destination is something that I still have on my horizon.

So, this is why Lawrence of Arabia is my all time favorite movie.  It pivoted me towards a purpose in life and represents the ideals that I want to live up to as a student of film.  I hope to one day write a movie that has even just a little bit of the wit and impact that Lawrence has.  Robert Bolt’s screenplay is often one that I quote with regularity and respect with awe for it’s sheer, simple brilliance.  It’s amazing how the screenplay deftly answers some of the more existential questions with the simplest of answers.  For example, when asked by a reporter, “What attracts you Major Lawrence to the desert?” he answers, “It’s clean.  I like it, because it’s clean.”  That right there is a fundamental screenwriting magic trick; using a non-sequitur to explain the un-explainable, and it’s beautifully delivered with delicious sarcasm by Peter O’Toole in the movie.  But, apart from that, Lawrence is also a movie that helps me to understand the limits of ambition and the need for understanding.  There is a strong theme throughout the movie spotlighting the failings of misunderstanding, and how lack of intelligence leads to disorder and hatred.  Lawrence went into the desert not only to learn more about himself, but to understand the world, and it’s an example that I have to tried to live up to myself, broadening my understanding of how the art of film is differently reflected in the larger world as a whole.  Lawrence of Arabia is more personal to me than any other film that I have seen and that’s why I always claim it as my all time favorite movie.  I’m sure that everyone else has that one movie that speaks to them too, and in many ways, a person’s favorite film can reveal a lot about who they are.  Sometimes it’s a personal attachment to the main character that defines a person’s favorite movie, or the message it delivers that they hold so dear.  But the one thing that every favorite movie has in common is that it plays a role in molding us into the people that we are.  Lawrence of Arabia solidified my purpose in life; to play a part in the growing legacy of cinema, and whether I am making a film, or writing about them, it’s a purpose that I still live out every day.  As I look ahead to the next year on this blog, my hope is to expand it further and make it even better; maybe someday try turning it into a vlog and starting up sponsorship to allow my readers more input into what I write about.  Anything is possible at this point.  As the movie states, “Nothing is written, unless you write it.”

So, as we stand now in the first leg of the 2017 awards season, the movie that looks like a clear front runner for the top prize of the season, the Academy Award, appears to be Damien Chazelle’s La La Land.  Truth be told, we won’t know for sure until the actual awards are handed out, but so far, it’s the movie that is breezing through all the awards thus far and is dominating.  Which leads me to wonder, why this movie?  Why is La La Land sweeping up so many awards this year.  It’s not the typical Oscar style movie.  Heavy dramas and message filled movies tend to be the awards favorites this time of year.  But, La La Land is an upbeat musical comedy about struggling artists in the creative labyrinth that is Los Angeles, California, and a movie where no one dies and where both of the stars end up getting what they wanted in the end, more or less.  Certainly, the fact that it’s a showbiz movie helps, as films like The Artist (2011) and Argo (2012) have shown that Hollywood loves to celebrate movies that cast a positive light on their industry.  But, the movie is also becoming a hit with general audiences as well, and that tells me that another factor is fueling the popularity of La La Land, and that’s a strong reaction to retro style film-making.  La La Land is a throwback to musicals of Hollywood’s Golden Era, but transplanted into a modern day setting.  Like musicals of the past, the musical numbers become a natural extension of the story rather than a music video style interlude that cuts into the narrative, and is shot in long takes that help you to appreciate the production values and choreography.  They are not new film-making techniques, but rather ones that have sat long dormant and only fell new and fresh because of their long absence.

In La La Land, the experiment works because it is clear that director Damien Chazelle has done his homework and studied the movies he’s trying to emulate very closely.  It seems simple on the surface, but there is a lot more to making retro styles work in a new movie.  Anyone can just copy a scene from an old film, but very few can actually make a new film feel old fashioned and have that come across as something new and revolutionary in the end.  In many ways, it all comes down to the story you want to tell in the end.  For Chazelle, he was interested in telling the story of people on the periphery of Hollywood fame, and just living day to day trying to prove that they can be a value to the world.  The musical numbers are lavish, but they carry weight because of the way we identify with the characters and feel their struggle.  That’s why when they break out into song, we share in the enthusiasm behind the experience.  But even on the crafting side, it takes a sharp sense of your film-making craft to know how to make a film successfully retro.  You have to know the intimate details such as the type of film stock used in filming, or the timing of the editing, or even just the choices in blocking a shot.  It’s a rhythm of storytelling that helps to give it that retro feel.  Production design, which creates the visual texture of a different era, becomes the very last element that makes a retro film feel old fashioned.  What makes La La Land a remarkably retro movie is the fact that it’s retro in technique and not design.  Chazelle’s film is a modern world brought to life with Hollywood magic.  A musical number in the old Hollywood style can come off as ordinary when boxed into a prefabricated soundstage environment, but when transplanted to rush hour traffic on a Los Angeles freeway, then you’ve got the makings of something old becoming new again.

La La Land is not the first project to capitalize on collective cinematic nostalgia.  There are plenty of other movies that hearken back to a bygone time and try to emulate the style of that era.  But, it’s the practice of using the era’s limitations and film-making styles that actually defines this type of movie.  It’s basically what separates a retro film from a period film.  You can watch a period movie which puts extraordinary care and detail into the authenticity of the costumes and set design to recreate a different era, but it will still feel like a modern film regardless.  This is because the film-making technology is of this era and not the one that the movie is set in.  Aesthetically it can look old fashioned, but when it is shot on crisp digital photography, it will still be recognized by the viewer as a new movie.  For a movie made today to truly feel like of another era, it must strip away all the cinematic shortcuts that technology has given us over the years and utilize techniques and technology that has been long out of use.  For it’s part, La La Land does this by shooting on film, and in a film stock that is not as widely used today as it once was.  Damien Chazelle chose to shoot the movie in the Cinemascope process, which was developed back in the 1950’s as a cheap and practical format for widescreen film-making.  Today, most movies utilize a Panavision inter-positive, which allows the for the filmmaker to format the screen dimensions in post to their liking.  Cinemascope is widely given as the name for the ratio of all widescreen movie (the standard of which is 2.40:1), but the original film based Cinemascope was actually wider than this (at 2.55:1) and is far more dynamic at capturing screen depth than modern day Panavision.  It was an especially popular format for the musicals of the 50’s, which I’m sure is something that Chazelle took notice of.  While most moviegoers probably will never know any difference between film stock formats, subconsciously it does leave an impression and helps to make the final film feel retro purely through the very film stock used in it’s making.

Chazelle is one of a number of filmmakers that have returned to old techniques and film equipment to recreate styles of the past.  One filmmaker in particular that has gone out of his way to not only use old equipment, but also champion it in his promotion of his movies is Quentin Tarantino.  Tarantino is a filmmaker with modern sensibilities, but he is also a director with an extensive knowledge of old Hollywood film-making and a strong desire to relive those styles in the work that he does.  He’s a man raised on watching exploitation films and international cinema, and how the sometimes dingy and haphazard presentations of these movies in grindhouse theaters sometimes added to the overall experience.  It’s a decidedly different kind of retro film-making that Tarantino likes to exploit in his own work than what we see in La La Land, but it’s no less accomplished with a lot of care and detail.  Perhaps his greatest expression of this was in the double feature project that he created with his friend and collaborator Robert Rodriquez with Grindhouse (2007).  The over three hour presentation featured two feature length films; Planet Terror, directed by Rodriquez and Death Proof, directed by Tarantino.  While both obviously were meant to parody their selective grindhouse genre flicks, there was also a strong emphasis to try to capture the physical look of those types of movies as well.  Digital scratches were added to the finished film, to make it look like a film print that would have played in one of those old grindhouse theaters, where special care of the film prints was probably never taken.  Not only that, but color grading was purposely washed out for a lot of scenes to further give the movie an old tattered look to it.  For Tarantino, he makes a strong effort to make you aware of the retro look of his movies and it’s become a staple of his film-making style.  Even in a more polished film like The Hateful Eight (2015), he made a big deal about shooting the movie in the extremely wide and rarely used Ultra Panavision format, and having it screened in 70MM film across the country.  For him, presentation is just as key to making a film feel retro as anything else.

What I find interesting about the use of retro style film-making is how it often is dictated by the maturity of the filmmaker and the audience they are trying to reach.  As different generations come of age, they notice that movies that get made in their adulthood often reflect the kind of products they were familiar with in their childhood.  What was Saturday morning material in our youth are now the box office kings of today.  And this is a cycle that keeps refreshing every generation or so.  You see this with hit films today based on Transformers, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and Alvin and the Chipmunks.  And why these films?  Because they are all based off of shows that were popular during the 1980’s, and children born and raised during that decade are now hitting their thirties and are the ones both getting these movies green-lit, and are paying to see them in huge numbers.  You can pretty much see a correlation in every decade with another past era that suddenly comes into vogue based on a collective nostalgia.  In the 90’s and early 2000’s, we saw big screen adaptations of the kind of cartoon entertainment that our parents grew up with in the 1960’s and 70’s, with The Flintstones (1994), George of the Jungle (1997), and Scooby Doo (2002).  And going further back, you see a nostalgic revival of the 1950’s in the 1970’s with shows like Happy Days and movies like American Graffiti (1973).  Now that I brought up a project by George Lucas, I can also see how Star Wars (1977) is a retro throwback to the 1950’s, when sci-fi serials were a staple of the industry.  The iconic opening crawl is lifted directly from those same serials.  Essentially, time dictates the nostalgic value on things, but it doesn’t always reflect that way in deliberately retro projects.  Damien Chazelle is only 31 years old, but the retro style he’s trying to capture in La La Land hearkens back way before his lifespan.  It’s an acquired appreciation for that era for him, which probably could’ve been built from film studies during his years in film school.  But, what a filmmaker values in the nostalgia of this film-making may not always translate for an audience.

For a retro style film to work, there has to be a shared interest between the filmmaker and the audience.  Sometimes a director will put extraordinary detail into capturing the look and feel of a retro film and no one will watch it, because of the disconnect between the art and the demand for that art.  A perfect example of this kind of project not working as well as planned was an ambitious film by acclaimed director Steven Soderbergh called The Good German (2006).  Soderbergh set out to recreate the aesthetic look of Hollywood war era films by shooting the movie entirely in black and white, mostly on soundstage sets and on a backlot, and even constricting the movie to a full frame aspect ratio that was standard of that era (approximately 1.33:1).  The George Clooney and Cate Blanchett headlined movie even had a marketing campaigned modeled after those of movies in that era, like Casablanca (1943), Mrs. Miniver (1942) and Only Angels Have Wings (1939).  It was clear that Soderbergh clearly wanted to evoke those movies in his own, and have the retro feel of his movie be the drawing factor behind it.  The only problem is that unlike all those other movies, less care was put into the story.  The film is so concerned with the aesthetic, it falters with the narrative and just ends up being this pretty but boring thing.  One can’t fault Soderbergh’s devotion to the project, but for movies like this to work, the narrative must work in balance with the visuals.  That’s the strength with La La Land.  It puts a lot more attention towards the narrative of two people falling in and out of love and makes the visual flair a reward for the audience involved in it’s story, rather than be a distraction.

But, when you look at movies that work well with retro fimmaking and those that don’t, you have to wonder what determines the response that the audience will eventually give to these movies.  The cyclical nature of nostalgia has something to do with it, but there are other factors that make it possible for audiences to embrace something retro.  Sometimes, it’s the escapism of returning to something familiar that has that effect.  I find it easy to see why La La Land is becoming the hand down favorite for all of the accolades for 2016, because if you lived through 2016 and saw how rough of a year it was for many people, you would want to escape into a idealized world of music and song too.  La La Land is cinematic medicine for a shattered world, and Chazelle’s musical is hitting just at the right time.  It not only is entertaining, but it was gives us the reminder of what a Hollywood movie can be to it’s audience, and how it can lift us up.  If the year had gone a little different, the movie may have come across as naive and hollow.  Timing is everything for a retro film or any project to hit it’s mark, and often times, it’s built upon years of disappointment for an audience.  One genre in particular that has really benefited as a whole from a more retro-centric sensibility is the Horror genre.  After getting watered down in the post-Blair Witch, jump scare heavy era of bland Horror film-making, we are seeing a revival of the kind of thrillers that put the genre on the map in the 1970’s.  You can see this in movies like James Wan’s The Conjuring (2013) or the critically acclaimed It Follows (2014), both of which draw more on atmosphere and scare audiences more with what’s not seen that what is seen.  And on television, we have a show like the Duffer Brothers’ Stranger Things, which is retro to it’s very core, and in the process, feels refreshing.  In the end, retro film-making becomes a statement against mediocrity, and looking to the past to find better answers for today.

La La Land, more than anything, has benefited from being the right movie at the right time.  We as a culture are in an uncertain place, and that is allowing something that is so self-assuredly positive to connect with us at this moment.  You have to admire the crafting behind the film, with so much attention devoted to making the musical feel retro without becoming naively old fashioned.  But, what I like best about La La Land is that it represents the value that a deep knowledge of film and film history can have.  I love the fact that Chazelle is keeping some tried and true tricks of the trade alive with his movie, especially the practice of shooting on actual film.  Along with the likes of Quentin Tarantino and Christopher Nolan, there are only a handful of filmmakers that still use film stock and Chazelle is keeping a valuable legacy alive because of this.  These filmmakers also show that retro film-making also represents a sign of quality in their work that normally wouldn’t be seen.  Modern film-making offers us a lot of shortcuts, but by tying our hands down and working within restrictive limitations, it provides us with some interesting creative avenues to try to overcome them and make the product of our efforts seem much more interesting as a result.  Period movies are by no means lazy efforts, but they will always feel like a modern movie because of the modern tools that went into their creation.  Take those away, and you can actually give your movie a more timeless feel that feels exactly of a different era.  That is what La La Land is in the end, a movie set today that feels like it was made in another era.  If it does win the Best Picture award for this year, it is an understandable victory.  Like a fellow Awards juggernaut, 2011’s The Artist, an earnest experiment in old tricks can find it’s audience and make the old feel like new again by adhering to the conviction of it’s presentation and endearing it with a timeless story worthy of telling.  In the end, films last forever, so it’s important to give a movie a reason to stay around that long.

On this Christmas Eve, many of you I’m sure are spending the holidays with loved ones, cherishing the warm feelings of Christmases of old.  Whether it’s the joys of opening gifts Christmas morining, or preparing the delicious Christmas dinners, or sharing the day with a loved one or a whole family, we all have our ideal Christmas experience that we want to relive each year.  For many like myself, the experience of the season is almost always tied with a love of cinema, and like so many years before, I am spending the holidays revisiting some of the classic standards of the season.  There are many Christmas movies out there that bring a different sensation out of me depending on what I’m looking for.  If I’m feeling nostalgic for Christmases of my childhood, I watch some of the Rankin Bass specials, or A Charlie Brown Christmas, or the original How the Grinch Stole Christmas.  If I’m looking for a good laugh, I watch National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation (1989).  And if I’m looking for a mixture of both nostalgia and laughs, I put on Home Alone (1990).  There really is an endless supply of Christmas movies to appeal to any mood we have during the holidays.  But, while Christmas is a time filled with great joy, it can also be a time when we tend to reflect too much on the things wrong in the world.  And for a troubled year like 2016, when it looked as if the whole world was falling apart around us, silly things like Christmas movies just don’t seem to do enough to raise up our spirits again.  And yet, Christmas films also have the special ability to inspire, and make us see through the glitz and commercialism of the season to what Christmas is really all about in the end; hope.  And there has never been a Christmas movie that illustrated that better than Frank Capra’s masterpiece, It’s a Wonderful Life (1946)

It’s amazing to think that It’s a Wonderful Life is celebrating it’s 70th Anniversary this year.  Even more amazing is the fact that it was once considered one of Hollywood’s biggest failures.  Now, we can’t even imagine a world without it in our lives.  It plays every year on television, it’s a highly influential movie that is referenced constantly and not just at Christmas time, and it is frequently held up as one of the greatest movies ever made.  The American Film Institute even placed it as high as #11 on their list of the Top 100.  But, it was a long road for this little film to become the classic that it is today.  In many ways, what turned it into a classic was the changing shift in our modern culture.  It’s a Wonderful Life told the story of a changing nation, where the America of old was being pulled towards a new identity, where life’s answers were no longer going to be so easily explained through the magic of cinema.  And yet, at the same time, It’s a Wonderful Life unashamedly delivers on all the same traditional Hollywood tricks to deliver a message that is considerably more modern.  And that message is specifically intended to say “you mean a lot to this world.”  You have to remember, 1946 was America’s first year out of a World War.  Soldiers who had been abroad for many Christmases were now asked to return to a sense of normalcy during the holidays that I think some of them thought would never come again.  It was an uncertain time for many Americans, and It’s a Wonderful Life spoke to that period.  I think that is why the movie has endured all these years; because it speaks to the worries of all Americans during times of uncertainty, renews their belief in the hope of the holiday season, and shows that through celebration and charity, the best of humanity can endure.

The wartime atmosphere had a lot to do with the making of this movie too.  In particular, it shaped what would become the quintessential American hero of George Bailey, who is brought to life in a career-defining performance by the incomparable Jimmy Stewart.  George Bailey is a man so driven by his kindness to others, but none of that same kindness is ever redirected his way.  Bad luck seems to follow him wherever he goes, and yet he never lets hardship turn him bitter.  It’s that basic sense of giving up oneself that defines him, and yet the movie has us believe that such men are unjustly punished by the world.  When he saves his brother from drowning in a frozen river, it causes hearing loss in one of his ears.  He finds the ideal woman to become his wife (played wonderfully by Donna Reed), and yet doesn’t have the means to give her everything she deserves.  He saves his hometown from financial ruin, but does so by sacrificing his nestegg for a vacation that he’s always wanted to take.  By being so nice, he has created a self-imposed prison.  It’s not the kind of narrative that you would expect for such a heroic character, but that’s what Capra and Stewart were trying to show us in the end.  We as a society tend to undervalue the kindness of the average individual and in many cases we only recognize their value once it is too late.  By the third act of this movie, George Bailey himself feels there is nothing he can do to set things right, and only taking his life will bring some sort of release from the pressure that’s on him.  That’s when the the Hollywood magic of a deus ex machina comes into the story, pulling him out of his despair, with the visit of an angel named Clarence (played by Henry Travers).  What follows is a considerably different tale than before, but it’s also what makes this movie the holiday classic that it is.

For a lot of postwar Americans, this movie must have been a bitter pill to swallow, with George continually losing out to others and driven so close to suicide.  The supernatural element of an angel coming to his rescue and showing him an alternate reality where he was never born, thereby showing his worth, must have seemed pretty naive as well.  And yet, this is exactly what ended up speaking to an entire new generation soon after.  We don’t see the value of the good works that we do in other peoples lives, but they do, and that goodwill manifests itself in the love they extend out to us in return.  We, like George Bailey, may think that what we do is foolish and unrewarding in the moment, but a lifetime of kindness gives us the right kind of rewards in the end, and that’s the distinction of being honorable.  That’s why this works so well as a holiday film, because it reminds us of the benefits of goodwill towards others.  In the years since it’s release, people have looked at the concluding act of this movie as a plea for generosity in our society, as many people who make our lives better often go unrewarded.  In the wake of World War II, a few American veterans were unsure if all their sacrifices were worth it in the end.  Sure there was peace, but they were returning home to families that they no longer recognized and with scars both physical and mental that would never heal.  But, in the years since, they would learn that George Bailey had more in common with them than they realized and that the message of generosity was not meant for them, but for everyone else.  It’s a Wonderful Life was a movie meant to make a changed American society remember that it is indeed virtuous to reward sacrifice for the greater good, especially during the holidays.

Is the movie a tad too sentimental at times; of course.  But, using the traditional Hollywood routines of old actually helps the narrative out a great bit.  George Bailey may seem like the quintessential Hollywood hero, but what we realize after watching the movie is that he’s not the typical Hollywood character at all.  He is a man on the periphery of society; the everyman whose small contributions make a little difference but more commonly go unnoticed.  He’s a community hero whose influence and recognition will probably never be recognized outside of the city limits of his hometown.  The ones who do gain national recognition tend to be the ones who make big, sweeping gestures that often come at the cost of disenfranchising people like George Bailey.  And that type of character is personified vividly in the form of Mr. Potter (played to perfection by the legendary Lionel Barrymore).  In It’s a Wonderful Life, George’s struggles often come as a result of Mr. Potter’s manipulations, as the shrewd old businessman is trying to force his will on the town of Bedford Falls as a whole.  Mr. Potter in this sense is a quintessential Hollywood baddie, but also one that is sadly all too recognizable in American society.  We see too many of his type in the world of business, in public discourse, and unfortunately far too often in the realm of politics (this election year clearly illustrating that point).  That’s what makes the story of George Bailey such a potent one for audiences, because it is the typical Hollywood underdog story, but given to the ordinary American servant doing what’s best for his community.  It’s a movie that inspires as much as it comforts, and reminds us that one of the important things to remember in life is to not let the Mr. Potters of the world make us feel worthless.

The common man struggle was always a favorite motif for director Frank Capra.  You can see it throughout his work in the 1930’s, especially with his Oscar-winning Mr. Deeds Goes to Town (1936) and You Can’t Take it With You (1938).  But in all his earlier films, it was always the underdog that had a clear sense of purpose in life, and who set out to change the minds of others.  It’s a Wonderful Life flips that narrative around and shows us that the underdog can sometimes be the one who’s lost and is in need of a new direction.  Capra understood the mind of a wayward soul because both he and Jimmy Stewart served in the war, and no doubt had come across many George Baileys during that time who probably had lost all faith in themselves and humanity.  Capra intended this to be a movie that spoke for those broken men, and show everyone else that more than ever before, this was the time to reach out to them.  That message may not have been received right away, and it’s probably only because of the fact that movies at the time were still dismissed as lighthearted fluff.  But, thanks to television, which sought to fill airtime during the holiday season with anything that fit the theme, this movie found new life and it spoke to an entire new generation that finally could understand the pain that so many of their elders were going through.  It’s because of this movie that a tradition of charity prospers during the holiday season.  It’s great to receive during the holidays, but it’s even more rewarding to make one poor person feel like the “richest man in town” just for one day, and help them realize that they matter.  Could such a tradition exist without this movie?  Absolutely, but It’s a Wonderful Life made such an outpouring of charity feel magical and it gave us an ideal to live up to for every holiday season.

On top of everything else, the movie just makes the holiday season feel even brighter.  The interesting thing about the movie is that very little of it actually takes place during the holidays.  It’s only once we get to the dire third act of the movie that a theme of Christmas begins to take center stage.  In many ways, the movie takes inspiration from Charles Dickens A Christmas Carol, which also focused on a man’s redemption through the intervention of heavenly spirits on Christmas Eve.  It’s a comparison that’s not unusual, because both Dickens and Capra were deeply humanist artists, usually casting their spotlights on the average forgotten citizen.  But, unlike Dickens, the story renews a man’s faith in himself, instead of showing him the error of his ways.  George Bailey’s fault is his own low self esteem, and thinking that he’d be better off dead.  As we learn from this movie, loneliness is the worst mood to have during the holidays.  Loneliness turns good men bitter, and seeing the eternally optimistic George fall into a void of isolation becomes the story’s most tragic element. As the final act proves to us, George’s sense of duty and honor closed him off and that all he needed to do was to not be ashamed to ask for a little help in return.  Wishing to never be born  and seeing the consequences of that illustrates to him that every good deed he makes reciprocates in the love and well-being of those around him, creating an atmosphere of normalcy that may not be apparent right away.  Seeing all of this, he becomes thankful for the greatest gift of all; life.  It’s that joy of understanding that every day of life is precious and that being a good person matters that makes George’s redemption so memorable.  Joyfulness for what we have in life is one of the great pleasures of this holiday season, and I don’t think there has ever been a better illustration of joy put on film than George Bailey running through the snow covered streets of Bedford Falls yelling, “Merry Christmas.”

It’s really hard to believe that a movie that was a box office failure in it’s time, and responsible for bankrupting the company that made it as well as halting the once prosperous career of it’s director, is today celebrating it’s 70th Anniversary as one of the most popular American films ever made.  Virtually every person in America has seen it, and that’s partly due to it’s inescapable presence on television during the holiday season.  But, despite it’s widespread exposure, audiences still adore it and hold it up as probably the greatest Christmas movie ever made.  I think that’s largely due to the universal themes within it.  It is a uniquely American tale, about a common man who through hard work and good deeds achieves some semblance of the American dream, and becomes an essential part of his community.  At the same time, the message of the movie speaks to all of us no matter where we come from.  It teaches us that charity is a fundamental tradition for the holiday season and that we should all help those in need feel welcome and appreciated, not just at Christmas time, but year round as well.  It also teaches us that giving back and being grateful are essential feelings to share with others during the holidays.  In a time right now when we as a country and as a world feel so helplessly fractured, the message of this movie becomes all the more timely.  I hope that It’s a Wonderful Life continues to live on for many more generations, because the happiness that is felt by George Bailey at the end of the movie should be one that is shared with every human being from this Christmas on.  So, please make another person feel special, give assistance and kind acknowledgement to a complete stranger, show unexpected kindness towards an enemy, and enjoy the festivities like they mean everything in the world to you, and your holidays will feel all the more worthwhile and life-fulfilling.  And maybe, even in these turbulent times, we can help a million angels earn their wings.

As the days get shorter and the nights get colder, we all know that the most festive time of year is upon us.  The Holiday season can mean many things to different people, but essentially it’s a time of the year about reflection of the things that matter most to us, and how we hope to make the new year a better one than before.  Several celebrations make up this season from all cultural backgrounds, but the one that certainly defines the winter season most of all is Christmas.  Christmas truly has become the universal holiday marking the ending of each year, as it’s iconography and influence is found the whole world over.  In many ways, it has moved beyond it’s traditional Christian origin to become something more homogenized and inclusive of other cultural influences.  Though not celebrated by everyone, it nevertheless is a part of everyone’s holiday experience.  After all, why do people busy themselves with holiday shopping or attend Christmas themed parties even though it’s not a holiday that’s a part of their select religion or background. That’s because we as a culture have made Christmas a holiday about community rather than a religious institution, and whether it’s your co-workers or your acquaintances or a certain loved one involved, everyone becomes involved in the celebration.  And one of the things that has helped to turn Christmas into a communal holiday over the years is the influence of cinema.  Christmas has become a popular point of interest for filmmakers, because how we spend the holidays reveals so much about us as a culture, and likewise, movies also have a lasting effect on the same culture that helps to shape how we view the holiday season.

It’s interesting to look at the ever changing image we have of the Christmas season, and how so much of it comes from the movies we watch.  How many of you out there are able to pinpoint exactly what your favorite holiday film is within an instant?  Or how about the many times you’ve tried to make your holiday plans feel closer to what you’ve seen in the movies?  There are many non-Christians in our society today who don’t wake up on Christmas morning ready to open up presents under a tree, but will still spend the entire day watching A Christmas Story (1983), or It’s a Wonderful Life (1946), or even Elf (2003) just to feel some of the seasonal spirit.  Thankfully our culture accommodates for other cultural influences during this time too; I hear the “Dreidel Song” included in a lot more Holiday playlists nowadays.  But, the best thing about a tradition of Holiday themed films is that like all other movies, the main goal is have them appeal to all audiences.  There is universal appeal in all the best loved Holiday movies.  They make us laugh, cry, and more importantly, fill us with the hope that defines this time of year.  But, what is also interesting is that as our culture has changed, so have our Christmas movies.  The values espoused in some of the older Christmas movies aren’t the same as those of today, and it tells us a lot about how our own values have changed, even when the institutional foundation of the holiday has remained the same.   It more has to do with how the traditions are looked at from every proceeding decade, and how the definition of a Christmas movie has evolved.  Sometimes a movie will delve deep into the nostalgia of the holiday to remind us about tradition, while others will deconstruct it to reveal more about the world around us outside of the iconography of the season.  There is a lot that we can learn from examining the sub genre of Christmas movies as a whole, because all together it reveals a culture that is in constant change.

A lot of our foundation for what the Christmas season is all about comes from the earliest representations of the holiday in cinema.  Just like how Coca-Cola’s marketing was responsible for crafting the modern image of Santa Claus for our culture (with the white fur trimmed red coat ensemble and the rosy-cheeked jolly smile through his furry white beard), Christmas movies in the early days of cinema crafted the modern ideals of how the holiday should be celebrated.  In movies like Christmas in Connecticut (1945), Meet Me in St. Louis (1944), The Bishop’s Wife (1947), and Holiday Inn (1942), we see an influence of Hollywood glitz and glamour presenting to us the idea of a perfect Christmas.  During this time, Christmas celebrations moved away from the deep spiritual reflection that it once had been, and instead presented to us an image of how the every-man celebrates the holiday; with family, friends and even perfect strangers coming together to feast and play.  The sense of Christmas being a communal festivity is strongly felt in these earlier films.  It also perpetuated the ideal of a white Christmas, with the stark winter weather providing a nice counterpoint to warmth of a Christmas gathering.  It’s also no surprise that the Hollywood movie machine also provided us with many of the most beloved holiday standards that are now a part of every Christmas playlist.  Songs like Meet Me in St. Louis’ “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” and Holiday Inn’s “White Christmas” are as synonymous with the holiday today as Santa Claus.  But, the reason why these movies resonate as much as they do is because of the time they were created.  In the 30’s and 40’s, America was pulling itself out of a Depression and were about to delve into a World War, so for most people, Christmas could only be ideally seen within the movies.  Our holiday foundations are found deeply in this era of escapist entertainment, but despite how naive they might seem today, they are still the ideals we hold dear to our hearts and still aspire to.

The post-war years however changed the idea of what a Christmas movie could be and it shows us the first sign of how a holiday film can very clearly reflect the changes in our culture over time.  America post-war was very different than it had been before and even during the conflict.  Many soldiers returned home changed men, and the idea of Christmas became something rather distant now to many of them, as most veterans had spent too many holidays away from home and from loved ones.  The movies of this era became less about indulging in holiday traditions but instead were about trying to rediscover them.  It was Hollywood’s attempt at healing a broken nation whose people had suffered through too much and were not so easily persuaded by escapist entertainment anymore.  A perfect example of this kind of feeling represented in a Christmas film would be Frank Capra’s immortal It’s a Wonderful Life.  Here’s a movie all about the healing aspect of the holiday season.  When we see Jimmy Stewart’s George Bailey driven to the edge of despair, his life is saved by a Christmas miracle, which enables him to see beyond the hardship and view how his life is valuable to others.  And it’s through an act of Christmas charity that we see his life redeemed, showing a new kind of ideal for others to follow in the season, which is the idea of giving to those less fortunate.  Like George Bailey, many disenfranchised veterans were in need of charity, and because of films like this, Christmas reminded us as a nation that it was essential to give back.  But, the idea of having to reinvigorate the Holiday spirit wasn’t always present as bleak as in It’s a Wonderful Life.  We saw in the classic Miracle on 34th Street (1947) how a personal visit from Mr. Kringle could move a cynical nation away from selfish interests towards a more optimistic holiday spirit.  Post war America and the World in general needed lessons like these to help center itself again around something pure and ideal, and Hollywood provided that in the Christmas spirit.

Since the pre and post-War years, Christmas movies tended to become more of a niche market.  We no longer had films that used Christmas as their primary theme or backdrop, but rather as smaller parts of a bigger picture.  Television picked up the slack though, with Christmas specials and variety shows becoming annual institutions.  In this time, Hollywood not only presented their ideals of what the Christmas season was all about, but did so with unencumbered glitz and glamour.  What we also got from television at this time were the animated specials from people like Rankin Bass and Chuck Jones.  These Christmas themed animated specials like Rudolph, the Red Nosed Reindeer (1964) and How the Grinch Stole Christmas (1966) became the standards for another generation of fans, presenting Christmas stories that moved even further away from the original spiritual traditions towards a more universally appealing vision of the holiday.  In these movies we also saw how universal lessons that were important to people in that time, like the need for tolerance and understanding, became the focus rather than living up to the ideals of the holiday’s traditions.  Another holiday special, A Charlie Brown Christmas (1965), even addressed the growing disparity between the traditional spiritual base of the holiday and the increasingly homogenized festivity it had become because of the influence of pop culture.  It’s an identity crisis that is exceptionally well explored and given a very enlightened explanation by the end, when Charlie Brown finally understands that tradition and changing values are all what makes Christmas so special.  The fundamental origin of Christ’s birth is always a part of the season, and our cultural traditions that we’ve added to the holiday have not buried that aspect, but instead embody the ideals that Christ represented.  As Charlie Brown struggles to find meaning through directing a Nativity play, he comes to understand this as what Christmas means to him; the joy of giving a part of himself to improve someone else’s holiday.

After a long run on television, holiday films did find new life in the cinema during the 80’s and 90’s.  What is interesting about this era though is how the definition of Christmas movies changed.  Sure there were films that were unmistakably centered around Christmas themes, like A Christmas Story, Scrooged (1988), and National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation (1989), but there were other movies made at this time that used Christmas as a backdrop, but were not necessarily about Christmas.  This has led to many speculations in recent years whether or not some of these actually qualify as Christmas movies at all.  One film for example would be Joe Dante’s Gremlins (1984).  It’s set during Christmas, and uses a lot of the season’s iconography as part of it’s story, but the narrative centered around mischievous grotesque monsters could also find a home within the Halloween season as well.  Within another genre, there is also the classic thriller Die Hard, which some fans will defiantly proclaim is absolutely a Christmas movie.  Is there a reason why Die Hard needs to take place during Christmas?  Not really.  But screenwriter Steven deSouza still makes good use of holiday tropes to add some flavor to the story, including one point where the hero John McClane jokingly sends a message to the villains that says, “Now I have a machine gun.  Ho, Ho, Ho.”  Other films from this period use more overt representations of the holiday, but could have been set during any time of the year.  Home Alone (1990) is one such case.  The concept of a child left all alone at home could work without the Christmas setting, but it makes a lot of sense that it would serve that purpose for this particular story.  Through movies like these, we get a changing attitude towards the holidays in movies, where Christmas is no longer an institution that is reinforced by the culture but instead is reflective of the culture.  Hollywood no longer needed to hold up the ideal, but instead could draw from it to add a little extra to something totally unrelated.

While some of these films continue to perpetuate the ideals of the holidays, we also have seen other films take a more critical eye towards Christmas films as well.  These are reflective of even more change that we’ve witnessed in our culture, as negative aspects of tradition and spirituality have affected people in many ways.  That’s why movies that intend to deconstruct the Christmas Holiday have become more prevalent in recent years.  Tim Burton’s The Nightmare Before Christmas (1993) for example took an idea of looking at the Christmas season from an outsiders point of view and questioned whether the holiday traditions were exclusive to only one thing, or was it open to other influences, like say the ideas of icons from the Halloween season.   There was also the film Bad Santa (2002) which deconstructed the image of Santa himself, putting a foul-mouthed conman played by Billy Bob Thornton in the suit and beard and taking presenting seasonal icons in the most perverse way possible.  And strangely enough, these films which break down some of the traditional ideals of the holiday have also become themselves new seasonal classics for a modern audience.  And that’s because despite their unorthodox presentations, they still hold up the spirit of the Holiday, which is one of community and tolerance to others.  But, by poking fun at some of the more outdated aspects of the holiday, it has unfortunately opened these films up to some criticism.  There is a narrow-minded segment of the audience out there who misinterpret some of these irreverent films as part of a “War on Christmas,” and that is not the case.  Christmas movies bring the spirit of the holiday to people of all kinds, and tailoring them to contemporary audiences of diverse backgrounds is essential to keeping Christmas alive and relevant, even if it means presenting them a little cruder in the process.  To say that Christmas movies should just be one way and cater to one certain set of people is in itself an attack on Christmas.  We need diversity in our Christmas films, because it gives us the window into our culture that helps us to understand each other and why we should all value each other during the holidays.

That’s essentially what makes Christmas movies so fascinating as a part of cinematic history, and that’s the ever-changing nature of them.  Every generation adds it’s own voice to the cultural touchstones of the season, and looking back on them, we see the ever changing face of who we are.  Early Hollywood set the base stones of what our idea of the holiday can be, but subsequent generations after have taught us what Christmas should be, and that’s a holiday experience that should be inclusive of everyone.  I for one have like how Hollywood has not forgotten that Christmastime should be about reflection and understanding the value in ourselves and our fellow men.  Of course, there are the obvious films that forget that and instead indulge in the selfish commercialism of the holiday, like Jingle all the Way (1996) and the awful 2000 remake of The Grinch.  Can some modern Christmas movies be a little too cynical; of course (see Ben Affleck’s Surviving Christmas from 2004, or rather, don’t).  But, Hollywood has done well by the holiday and we have them to thank for perpetuating the best aspects of the holiday year after year.  Christmas is ever-changing, and that’s why the movies are helpful to us to understand the meaning of our changing culture.  There’s no need to have it saved, and certainly the last person I’d want to see save it would be Kirk Cameron.  We cherish the nostalgia of Christmases past through the perennial classics like It’s a Wonderful Life, but we also celebrate what the holiday means to us today on the big screen, and more recently it’s a reflection of our desire to party with our fellow man, like in last year’s The Night Before and this year’s Office Christmas Party.  The spirits of Past, Present and Future all come together in the movies to enrich our end of the year celebration, and it’s up to us to live up to that Christmas spirit year round.