Twelve films for Christmas, or at least ones I associate with the Holidays, listed between now and through the New Year. I had originally hoped to complete this list for Christmas Day, but a family emergency changed that plan. These are not in any particular order.

Day 6: Holiday Inn (1942 dir. Mark Sandrich)

While this film was in production, the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor and I can sense the tonal shift right about the time the film gets to the 4th of July. There is, for the most part (and we’ll get to that), a sense of coming together, of community and camaraderie in this movie that just works. If four years later after the war It’s a Wonderful Life (1946) was a celebration of simplicity and gratitude, then this film was the herald angel prophesying that same message.

The “plot,” I use the term loosely, concerns the romantic goings on between partners Ted Hanover (Fred Astaire) and Jim Hardy (Bing Crosby) as they vie for the affection of the same woman, Linda Mason (Marjorie Reynolds). Ted is a successful night club dancer and Jim is an equally successful nightclub singer, but Jim is moving on to newer pastures, literally. He buys a farm and hopes to retire, but eventually decides to turn the farm into the eponymous Holiday Inn, a venue for performers which will only be open on holidays.

All of these story points are provided as motivation for the song & dance numbers, all composed by Irving Berlin. Most famously Berlin wrote “White Christmas” for this movie, and he won and Academy Award for it. That brilliant song fueled not only nostalgia for the wartime populace but also its own film, the beguiling but somehow entertaining technicolor populist vista-vision treat White Christmas (1954).

The standout performance for me is Fred Astaire’s 4th of July firecracker tap dance number. You can just see the joy on his face when he finally nails it. I’ve been told more than thirty takes were used to complete the dance which was a mid-production addition for patriotic war-time efforts. I also enjoy Walter Abel’s giddy nervous energy as the talent manager Danny Reed.

And then there’s “Abraham” (I mentioned we’d get around to something). *sigh* As a middle-aged white male I am not particularly qualified to give a comprehensive understanding of early film studio racist tropes except to say here definitely is one of them. This musical number, for Lincoln’s birthday, stands out amongst the rest with a jaw-droppingly inappropriate black face routine which sadly was not unheard of in its day. But there it remains, and I cannot simply ignore it, as a testament to what was and hopefully never will be again.

Still I return to this film each year. Watching Astaire work is always a joy. Hearing Crosby sing his friend Berlin’s songs is also transformative. The film gave us “White Christmas” and I can feel the fun these actors had making it.