Post by The Human Being on Dec 14, 2013 13:33:01 GMT -6
2013 CZ Advent Calendar - December 12th
White Christmas
by glazomaniac
White Christmas
by glazomaniac
This is some pretty naked writers block shit:
I don't recall the first time I ever saw White Christmas. I had to be younger than ten. Maybe it was on television, maybe it was on tape. The thing is, it has been ubiquitous in my family. We have been watching it for so long that I can't imagine a Christmas without it. It's so familiar to me, I barely need to watch it to review it, but I am going to put it on all the same. I will likely end up watching it at least twice more this holiday season.
First, a little history. The movie is a showcase of Irving Berlin songs made in 1954 (12 years after the song was released). A precursor, Holiday Inn was the first film to feature the title song, and from there Bing Crosby's version the song became the biggest selling single of all time. Many people will lay claim to Holiday Inn being a superior film, but, having never seen it, I cann assure you there are dead wrong and deserve to be scorned. White Christmas stars Bing Crosby, Danny Kaye, Rosemary Clooney (that's George's aunt to all of you under the age of 25), and Vera-Ellen, all of whom were huge stars in their own right. Kaye was not the first choice for his role--Fred Astaire and Donald O'Connor were considered. As much as I love O'Connor and admire Astaire, this movie would not have been the film it is without Danny Kaye.
For anyone who hasn't seen it, click here.
The film is many things: Christmas story, buddy film, love story, musical, drama, comedy, even a touch of war story thrown in there. The side effect of growing up with this film is that I never noticed so much of it when I was younger. I was so young the first time I heard it, half the songs didn't even make sense. I didn't understand why the general sent his replacement on a long journey right at the start; I didn't get what the import of the landlord situation was; I didn't really follow the joke about the air-headed chorus girls; and I wasn't entirely sure what was going on with the television broadcast at the end. I remember this because we watched it so much, I can recall the times when things clicked. I just remember that my parents laughed at certain parts I didn't get, that it was silly when Crosby and Kaye dressed up as ladies, that Clooney looked amazing in that black dress, and that Vera-Ellen was mesmerizing in the "Mandy" performance. I knew that it was kinda dumb how Clooney's character got mad at one point, and I knew that it was touching when the old man put on his uniform in the end.
I got, that is to say, the gist. I got the heart of the film.
As I grew older, there were periods I wasn't that into the film, of course. It's not a cool movie, and having it be a permnanet fixture basically had me take it for granted. Eventually, of course, I came around. In part this was because I got over myself, and in part it was because I realized how much my family and our traditions meant to me. I don't recall precisely when it happened, but it was at some point in early college. I had moved 400 miles away to New Orleans. I just had to get the fuck out of Cullman--the town is an oppressive cesspool for anyone even slightly different. But my family was there--still is--and I can't much imagine them anywhere else. They are not typical Cullmanites. My mother is a rocket scientist, my father is a hippy. My siblings are all manner of weirdoes in all the best ways. And as I got away from Cullman, it became clear that though I hated the town, I still loved my family. I have made it a point never to miss a Christmas; along with Die Hard, It's a Wonderful Life, and nagging my mother until she lets us open presents early*, White Christmas is central to our traditions.
All of us tend to appreciate the film in a different way. My brothers like it well enough or tolerate it. My youngest sister knows everything about it and is a little obsessed; she's always loved musicals. My mother is right there with her, but she has a warmer affection that is tempered by her spiky demeanor. My other sister is more like my brothers. My dad drops in every now and then to laugh at a line or two. You can figure out my appreciation for it by reading along here.
So I must have been in high school when I got the jokes about the air-headed showgirls. They're dumb. That's it. Part of my confusion was mishearing, for years, the phrase "Go to Smith" as "Dakota Smith." As a child, this made no sense, but few things did. Later, I was so entrenched in my childhood interpretation that I never questioned it. One time, though, it just clicked, and suddenly the phrase, "Go to Smith? They couldn't even spell it!" became funny instead of just something really weird in the film. (I kinda like the original interpretation; it's a cheezy and mean little joke, but that's fine.) By the time I was in college, the whole film clicked, including all of the examples listed above. Understanding it didn't diminish or change my appreciation. The experience was fascinating to me, and I wouldn't change it for the world.
The other major event in the evolution of my family's interaction with the film was the first time we saw it on DVD. The entire way through, we were proclaiming at the different way the colors looked. Everything was brighter (red became orange in a few places that I don't think it was meant to), and in some parts, it was much more clear and crisp. It was lovely, but different. But one of the funniest moments is on the train. As they walk between cars and declare at the lack of snow, until I saw it on DVD, I always found the scene confusion. The poor VHS copy was so fuzzy it looked like there was snow on the pine trees, but when we finally saw it on DVD, we finally got to see the green we were intended to notice.
So what about the film?
It opens with a song, and it closes with a kiss. It features one of my favorite dance sequences of all time. There is a scene where Crosby and Kaye have a conversation in a small space that is both hilarious, well made, and full of chemistry. It doesn't belabor the themes of sentimentalism over cynicism or recognizing the love and belonging you have. There is a very small Christmas miracle. It's a show business story, so there's Machiavellian manipulation... but it's a Christmas story, so it's mostly done in the name of love. And Irving Berlin's music, which was practically oldies by the time the movie was made, sounds amazing even today.
Let's linger on some of those scenes:
The opening is a war zone with some of the more obvious fake backdrops I've seen in a major Hollywood picture, but there's a few charming moments that help introduce, with economy, three of our central characters. The general is shown to be a sentimentalist quickly. Wallace (Crosby) is described as a star talent and shown to have a heart, Davis (Kaye) is shown to be an eager opportunist. Our other leads, the Haynes Sisters (Clooney and Vera-Ellen) are introduced about 20 minutes in, and immediately, Betty is shown to be hesitant but smart, and Judy is shown to be an eager opportunist. Knowing romatnic comedies as you do, you see where this is going.
The tight conversation in the dresing room is a favorite of mine. It revolves around an argument between Wallace and Davis regarding Davis's incessant need to throw women at Wallace. It culminates in one of Danny Kaye's signature tongue-twisters and an instance of one of the running gags in the film. Crosby and Kaye establish their chemistry with banter and well rehearsed movements, dressing around each other in a just-short-of-slapstick routine. It's one of those moments you know was practically written for the stars to show off their finest talents, but it works and it serves to push the plot along.
Speaking of showcasing the star's talents, right after the four leads meet, they find an excuse to send Kaye and Vera-Ellen off for a dance. The song "The Best Things Happen While You're Dancing" is a decent tune, but it's transformed by the dance. They move in an extended sequence over a set of odd props and let their feet do the performing. Famously, Vera-Ellen could dance like a dream, but she couldn't sing. Kaye could do both, and then some. Clooney and Crosby weren't the best dancers, but both could sing better than about anyone. Vera-Ellen's singing was dubbed by Clooney in one song and Trudy Stevens in the rest. Regardless, Vera-Ellen's dancing is worth whatever they paid her and then some. It's probably my second or third favorite dance scene ever.
The other major dance sequences (the final sequence, "Minstrel Show/Mr. Bones/Mandy," and "Choreography") are done in the guise of a rehearsal for the big show they put on to save the inn, giving them an excuse, but the first one is really just a moment of love at first dance step, and it blows the others away.
Like any good musical, everyone gets a song who needs one, but all of them are done in story, either as rehearsals or in a context where it's not completely unbelievable. The big productions are entirely just that--big productions done by the in-story entertainers. The quieter moments are given over to romantic connections and smaller numbers on smaller stages. The title song is sung twice; once at the start, in the war zone, and once at the end, in the climax. They fit in; they don't detract. The whole movie is built around Berlin's songs, but it's well done. The movie is awfully funny as well. From the nosy housekeeper (whose histrionics are a marvel) to Kaye's snappy wit to Crsby's more biting comments, it's just naturally worked into the proceedings. It's not a farce or an absurd production, but it's playful. It focuses as much on the comedy as the romantic half of romantic comedy.
The story is twofold: Davis and Judy plot to get Betty and Wallace together, and Wallace and Davis plot to save the general's inn. These simple plots unfold as you would expect, but they have fun in doing it. In the end, Davis and Judy learn a lesson about getting involved, Betty learns to let herself go, Wallace softens a bit more, everyone falls in love, the inn is saved, and, oh yeah, minor Christmas miracle: it snows in Vermont. Uh, very minor.
It's lovely, though, and so fundamentally part of my family's life that I can't look at it without that lens. It's part of my childhood, my adulthood, and my Christmas.
* (Or just getting her to tell us what she bought. The funny thing is, this year she accidentally let slip what she got me without being nagged or tricked. She just started talking, and there it was. I look forward to that Harry Belafonte African-American music anthology.)