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 3: It’s a Wonderful Life (1946 dir. Frank Capra)

How quickly life can change in a moment. Living a simple life can be so rewarding, loving, and joyful…but then it can all suddenly seem to vanish. A car accident, an illness, a miscarriage, or anything really that suddenly just happens without our consent or free will clouds one’s perspective, hopefully for just a short time. The love and support from family, friends, and community can help keep us going, one step at a time, until routine and life just seem to start again. Yet other times, despair reigns and the joy of life remains distant, perhaps even unreachable. It is within those unreachable places where miracles can happen.

What Capra and Stewart accomplish with It’s a Wonderful Life is that miracle in unreachable places. Here is a dark and terrifying film that perfectly lands upon unheard of cinematic emotional truth without any real redemption or comeuppance to its antagonist, Mr. Potter (Lionel Barrymore). He is still there, at the end, waiting to cause more problems for the Bailey family, but I suppose that is the point. Such life obstacles are always, always present. It is in how we deal with them that develops experience, maturity, and wisdom.

What a gift hindsight can be. After contemplating suicide and wishing he had never been born, George Bailey (Jimmy Stewart) get his wish when his guardian angel, Clarence (Henry Travers), changes reality so that George actually never was born. This is an ingenious concept, owing more than a little bit to Charles Dickens. But again this is not Scrooge’s story of redemption, but rather Bob Cratchitt’s story. George is a simple man with big unrequited dreams who finds happiness only after the darkest moments of his life open his soul to the possibility of meaningful joy in what he already has.

The film itself lived its own redemption story. It did not fare well with the post-war audience in 1946, and I can only surmise that the public was just not ready yet for this beautifully heavy shadow play on gratitude and simplicity. After nearly being lost forever it actually fell out of copyright at exactly the right time, allowing distributors to constantly resell it on home video cassettes and broadcast it on public television stations, all at practically no cost. It was everywhere, over and over again, until it thankfully got caught up in a kind of worldwide zeitgeist. And now, here we are at time when it is typically the top of lists, not only of the greatest holiday films ever made but also of just the greatest films ever made. And it is that good.

I have heard the film called sentimental, but I disagree. This movie earns its emotional catharsis. It does not ask more from its audience than it is willing to provide. It actually takes its time to tell a full story. And when George stands for the second time on the bridge, praying for his life, we feel his honest transparent desire. The snow begins to quietly fall again and we rejoice at both answered prayers and yes, even also at miracles in unreachable places.

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 2: Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi (2017 dir. Rian Johnson)

Rian Johnson’s The Last Jedi is one of the best chapters in the Star War saga, second only to The Empire Strikes Back. Watching it the first time I was reminded of Sam Mendes’ James Bond film Skyfall and how it took a long-established franchise in a different but ultimately rewarding direction. What Johnson and his team get away with here is so deeply psychological, dealing with trauma and motives, I call it a wild act of bravery for the studio to even allow this story to unfold as it does. It is a remarkably emotional experience.

After destroying the First Order’s Starkiller Base at the end of the The Force Awakens, the Resistance evacuates their headquarters, retreating from the persistent pursuing enemy. Having located Luke Skywalker (Mark Hammil), Rey (Daisy Ridley) attempts to convince him to not only reconnect with the force but also train her in its ways in order to help her defeat Kylo Ren (Adam Driver) and Supreme Leader Snoke (Andy Serkis). More than any other chapter, this Star Wars film is a direct sequel, picking up right where the previous film ended.

The film concerns itself with discordant generational history, accepting the past how it actually was while hopefully not destroying it. The mystery surrounding Ren’s origin works as a template for this approach, exercising a Rashomon-like approach to finding possible truth and exacting justice for the remembrance of things past. Much of the conflict revolves around finding middle ground for explaining why things are the way they are and the different viewpoints that ultimately do not match and cannot compromise.

At the center of this war of history is Luke Skywalker. Expectations about who is he and what he stands for further deepen his dramatic arc in this story because where he is emotionally and what he does are completely unexpected. Mark Hammil’s performance is absolute perfection. In a better reality it would have been Oscar-worthy. The trauma creased into his face and the anguish he allows the audience to witness are also brave choices. He is not afraid to go where the director needs him to go in order to build tension for the film’s climactic confrontation between him and Kylo Ren.

It is unfortunate that The Rise of Skywalker, Episode IX, did not chose to build further upon what Johnson constructed here. Moments like the tender exchange between Luke and Leia (Carrie Fisher) do not exist in that next chapter. Here Luke, finally determined to confront the past embodied by Kylo Ren, makes amends with his sister while also clearly stating her son, Ren, cannot be saved. These actors have worked together for decades and so much emotion becomes clear with simply words and meaningful looks.

It is a beautiful, heartfelt, world-building film, expanding on what came before and giving promise to what might come next. What a gift this movie is.

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 1: West Side Story (2021 dir. Steven Spielberg)

Steven Spielberg’s West Side Story is as much about the joy of filmmaking as it is about its story, and it needs to be. Leonard Bernstein’s music and Stephen Sondheim’s lyrics are already well-loved, but those alone do not guarantee a successful film. What Spielberg carefully and seamlessly creates here is an unforgettable vision of shadows, color, and movement, elevating it into one of the greatest of all movie musicals ever produced. It is an astonishing achievement.

During the late 1950’s two rival gangs, the Jets and the Sharks, fight for territory on Manhattan’s lower west side, an area soon-to-be refurbished as an artistic neighborhood forcing out the area’s long-term residents and recent immigrants. Amidst this growing rumble, Tony (Ansel Elgort) a former Jet hoping to live a more peaceful life and Maria (Rachel Zegler) the sister of the Sharks’ leader fall in love, further complicating the street level warfare. It famously is a less complex, but emotionally resonant, retelling of Shakespeare’s Romeo & Juliet.

The acting from everyone, yes everyone, is on point. Carefully watch Mike Faist (Riff) and his wiry, almost skeletal, visage always ready to pounce while his unemotional gaze belies a passionate resolve. Ariana DeBose (Anita) gives such a complex characterization that even though I am familiar with this story, her eventual choices about loyalty and love gave me genuine suspension of disbelief. The anguish on Ansel Elgort’s (Tony) face when told The Big Lie is an image straight from Edvard Munch. And Rita Moreno (Valentina), her delivery of the monologue to The Jets is particularly touching given her history with this material, and she could get an Oscar nomination for that tragic turnabout.

And this is a tragedy, make no mistake. No one cleanly escapes the violent, bloody final act. Life, innocence, and optimism are all at stake and I could feel the drama, sense the affection, and almost touch the admiration this company has invested in this project. The film is a joy to behold.

Having just seen it this past Saturday night I will gratefully forever associate it with the Holidays. Give yourself a gift and see it on the biggest screen you can find.

Anyone who suggests that this film is just a cynical retread of a beloved franchise solely aimed at box-office returns will probably find a lump of coal in their stocking come the morning of December 25th. It’s not a great film, but it is better than it needs to be and even gives a genuine emotional catharsis to anyone invested in the original Ghostbusters (1984). If you haven’t seen that original film, I don’t know what to tell you except there is no appreciating this one without it.

More than anything, the movie feels like a group of friends, old and new, making amends with and giving one last hug to Harold Ramis, and that alone is a worthwhile, honorable reason to see it. Ramis was a motion picture comedic genius and his influence on American culture cannot be overstated. Afterlife is an homage to not only Ramis, but also the Steven Spielberg/Richard Donner adventure films of the 1970’s & 1980’s. Imagine if the Goonies (1985) and E.T. (1982) had a love child raised by Superman (1978) and you begin to understand Jason Reitman’s approach to this material.

When their estranged grandfather passes away, adolescent siblings Phoebe (McKenna Grace) and Trevor (Finn Wolfhard) move into his neglected farmhouse in Oklahoma with their mother, Callie (Carrie Coon) only to slowly discover that not only was their grandfather one of the original Ghostbusters, but he also was patiently guarding an apocalyptic secret. In Oklahoma they befriend Podcast (Logan Kim), Lucky (Celeste O’Connor), and Gary Grooberson (Paul Rudd) all of whom will, of course, play a part in the final confrontation with the ghosts and demons.

I chuckled a lot and laughed out loud at least once (the suicidal anarchy of the miniature Stay-Puft Marshmallow men has to be seen to be appreciated). Grace is a real standout as the film’s true protagonist. She finds the right balance between unemotional sarcasm and the wonderment of discovery as she solves the mystery of her family’s legacy. And Kim has a fun time as her only friend and constant podcaster. Wolfhard is under-utilized and I wish a lot more had been done with Ivo Shandor (J.K. Simmons) and his backstory/involvement with Gozar (Olivia Wilde). Simmons is there…and then, too suddenly, he’s gone. Maybe his exit was supposed to be funny? I don’t know, but it just doesn’t work.

What does work is the overall nostalgia, not sentimentalism, building to the film’s Harry Potter-esque finale. I saw the original in theaters in 1984 as well as the fun, but disappointing, sequel in 1989. I sincerely enjoyed the non-canon 2016 film, entirely ignored here, with its talented cast. Ghostbusters: Afterlife, appropriately titled and the best of the sequels, is about unfinished business and confidently tells its story while giving the audience a lot of reason to smile.

Not necessarily the best movies ever made, but these are twenty of my favorites, in no particular order.  Each post for the next twenty days will feature a brief discussion of one film (though one or two days will have multiple posts to make up for absences).

Post 20: National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation (1989 dir. Jeremiah Chechnik)

This movie shouldn’t work, but still it endures and Thank God. Through sheer willpower, dedication, and cultural significance, Christmas Vacation survives and thrives. Much like the film’s story, it sweats persistence in the face of absolute chaos.

Thirty-two years ago when it premiered the film performed well but was dismissed as only occasionally funny. On the first day of this twenty day review I discussed Spielberg’s 1941 and how hindsight has served it well. The same is true here. What no one in 1989 took into account, I think, was just how relatable the film’s family situation actually is to nearly every audience member.

Yes it is exaggerated (I hope) for comedic effect, but at its heart is an amusing truth about absurd family holiday traditions and bemused tight-lipped tolerance. So when Clark (Chevy Chase) turns to Ellen (Beverly D’Angelo), deadpan, and asks his wife, “Have you checked our shitters, honey?” we get the joke and think about the family members who are our Cousin Eddie (Randy Quaid). Or when Audrey (Juliette Lewis) gives passive-aggressive attitude to Clark and asks, “We’re not driving all the way out here just so you can get one of those stupid ties with Santa Clauses on it are we, dad?” She’s not wrong (Clark already has one of those ties, but you just know he’s thinking about it), and I can nod and smile and remember second-guessing my father on his diverted motives.

John Hughes wrote the film and I can tell, at times, that he really enjoyed writing banter between disparate characters; Planes, Trains, and Automobiles (1987), his best film, is a great example. Here he writes an absolutely hilarious scene between Clark and Eddie. It’s just the two of them, standing in the living room, admiring the Christmas tree. Their perspectives are entirely opposite but the dialogue plays off of each other so well, especially in the performances, that Eddie never understands just how exasperated Clark really is with him. It’s a great scene and the final punch-line lands, not an easy feat, just as Clark chokes on his eggnog.

My favorite line? Right as Eddie arrives Clarks turns to him and tells him, “If I woke up tomorrow with my head sewn to the carpet I couldn’t be more surprised than I am right now.” Innocent, sarcastic deflection of honest emotions…behavior that is, at times, truly family.

Christmas Vacation embraces the audience and invites us to laugh with its characters not at them, and that is the film’s enduring strength.

Not necessarily the best movies ever made, but these are twenty of my favorites, in no particular order.  Each post for the next twenty days will feature a brief discussion of one film (though one or two days will have multiple posts to make up for absences).

Day 19: The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers (2002 dir. Peter Jackson)

There is a difference between belief and faith. I can believe that the neurosurgeon can help me, but until they actually do I won’t have faith in them. I believed someone could make a film version of Tolkien’s magnum opus, a book I have reread many times. But until I actually saw the first film did I have faith in Peter Jackson and his team.

Don’t misunderstand, I think of The Lord of the Rings as one complete film split into three parts. A strong belief in the project, mixed with a healthy sprinkle of trepidation, got me into the theaters in 2001 for The Fellowship of the Ring. I genuinely felt disappointed at the end of that film, not because it failed, but because it was over; I wanted more.

And more I got, just the following year. I single out The Two Towers because it must necessarily do the most heavy lifting for the story to unfold. Having already established the quality of the filmmaking in the first part, this part takes what was done and throws the chracters into chaotic, unpredictable situations, as quality trilogy middle chapters typically do.

But could they pull off Treebeard? And would Gollum be fantastic or folly? There was a time when no one had heard of Weta Digital, but their work on this film in particular lifted the entire trilogy from epic entertainment into artistic amazement. The simplicity and creative genius involved in a sequence like Smeagol telling Gollum, through a reflective pool, to go away and never come back is evidence enough of the thoughtful storytelling at work here. That and Andy Serkis’ powerful acting.

And when the Ents release the river, flooding Isengard, my jaw literally dropped. It is thrilling, emotionally satisfying action. Gandalf’s charge with the Rohirrim down into Helm’s Deep is another example of faith rewarded, not just faith in the filmmakers to provide the pacing and imagery needed, but Aragorn’s faith in his friends. He listened. He took council. He made choices and he held out for as long as he could. That perserverence pays off when Gandalf keeps his word and routes the orcs from Rohan.

The Return of the King provides the emotional pay-off to the entire story. The Fellowship of the Ring gives introduction to the world and the characters. But The Two Towers, my favorite of the trilogy, establishes the artistic achievements and the story themes that echo until this day. It is a marvelous trilogy, never to be lost or forgotten.

Not necessarily the best movies ever made, but these are twenty of my favorites, in no particular order.  Each post for the next twenty days will feature a brief discussion of one film (though one or two days will have multiple posts to make up for absences).

Post 18: Watchmen (2009 dir. Zack Snyder)

I was nervous walking into Zack Snyder’s film version of Watchmen. I am an avid fan of the graphic novel, one of my favorite books, and had been since 1986 when it premiered in serialized issues. So imagine the chilling wonder I felt within the first few minutes as the story unfolded, the Comedian (Jeffrey Dean Morgan) thrown from his apartment, and Bob Dylan’s song “The Times They are A-Changin'” strummed along during the opening credits. The song is all Snyder.

What the film absolutely gets right is the setting (an alternate 1985 when Richard Nixon is still President of the United States) and the tone. With the world on the brink of nuclear destruction, as it often was in the 1980s, the murder of one of the Watchmen incites a mystery which unfolds through the persistent investigation of Rorschach (Jackie Earle Haley in a magnificent performance), the most unstable of the Watchmen, and his one-time partner Nite Owl (Patrick Wilson). Solving the murder is not the climax of the story but rather leads into the final act and all the story’s considered, thoughtful implications about the value of individual human life.

It is that tenacious focus on the themes and the tone which makes this a great film, and one of my favorites. There is a generational story here, the original Watchmen from the 1940s and the current ones in the 1980s. That passage of time becomes personified in the character of Dr. Manhattan (Billy Crudup), the one hero with God-like supernatural powers, whose own concept of time lives not in chronology but in theoretical physics and relativity. And if mortality is what helps give meaning to human life, how can Manhattan value the lives of anyone without a sense of beginning or ending? Will he come to humanity’s aid, or does he just not see any value in it?

How the story and characters resolve all of this becomes the real beauty of the film. The climax, better here even than in the book (yes, maybe that’s heresy to some, but there it is), is exhausting, exuberant, and emotionally satisfying on every level the film explores. And at the end when Rorschach quietly asks Manhattan, “What are you waiting for?” I got chills and cried. His films can at times be all over the place, but here Snyder, his writers, and production team nailed it. It’s a triumph.

Not necessarily the best movies ever made, but these are twenty of my favorites, in no particular order.  Each post for the next twenty days will feature a brief discussion of one film (though one or two days will have multiple posts to make up for absences).

Post 17: Wyatt Earp (1994 dir. Lawrence Kasdan)

It begins moments before the OK Corral, travels back to his boyhood in Illinois, moves forward through time detailing his life, then finally circles back to that moment when Wyatt (Kevin Costner) made the choice to take a walk down the streets of Tombstone, AZ with his brothers and Doc Holliday (Dennis Quaid in a brilliant performance), staying true to history with his simple quiet words, “Let’s go.”

The movie moves beyond the OK Corral and into Wyatt’s vengeance-filled ride against those who were going to harm his family. It ends with his prospecting days, but I would have liked to have seen him walking the backlots of early Hollywood, as he did, consulting on early westerns. Earp’s life was complex, dark, troubled, romantic, violent, and difficult to understand especially sometimes his choice in friends. It’s those layers of Earp which this film gets absolutely right.

But it probably is also why the film does not endure as much as films like My Darling Clementine (1946), Gunfight at the OK Corral (1957), and Tombstone (1993). Cinematic western heroes typically are archetypes, more universal and whose motives are easier to understand. This film provides a more character-driven look at a man whose life is usually only shown in relation to his participation in one gunfight. To be fair, that gunfight is the most famous in western history but it is only a few seconds of his life.

I have been fascinated with Wyatt Earp’s life since I was a little boy. Many biographies, documentaries, and interviews try to get to the core of what motivated him. It is difficult to say what his character spine really was, especially in relation to his friendship with John Holliday. The beauty of this film is in its desire to provide a comprehensive and epic look at the life of one of the most famous of North American Old West legends.

Maybe its goal is its chief failing in that the legend is far more entertaining than the history. But Earp did not exist in order to become legendary, he was just a man making choices and living his life. And when it comes to this movie, which is not a failure at all, I appreciate the history, the truth. More than any of the other pictures from this twenty day challenge, this one is a deeply personal one for me. It is a flawed but very good, very thoughtful, very well-made film. It is a true favorite of mine.

Not necessarily the best movies ever made, but these are twenty of my favorites, in no particular order.  Each post for the next twenty days will feature a brief discussion of one film (though one or two days will have multiple posts to make up for absences).

Post 16: Babe (1995 dir. Chris Noonan)

“The pig and the farmer regarded each other and, for a fleeting moment, something passed between them, a faint sense of some common destiny.”

That line of dialogue, spoken early in the film by the Narrator (Roscoe Lee Browne), got my attention. It sets the tone and builds expectations for something grander and more meaningful than I was anticipating. Not long after, Ferdinand (Danny Mann), the anorexic duck, shows up panicking about the upcoming Christmas holiday and his potential place at the dinner table. “Christmas means carnage!” he cries. Later, when he does not become Christmas dinner, he gets philosophical, “The fear’s too much for a duck. It – it eats away at the soul! There must be kinder dispositions in far-off gentler lands.”

Kinder dispositions in far-off gentler lands…the movie really had me at this point. Oh, and there’s the greek chorus of mice who introduce each chapter and interject commentary throughout the film, even bursting into their own squeaky version of “Blue Moon.” The creative genius evident here never stops, never talks down to the audience, and never disappoints.

Babe is a tour-de-force of empathy and innocence exploring the nature of the world and one’s place in it. None of this would have worked without the few human actors in the film, particularly James Cromwell, in an Oscar-nominated role, as Farmer Hoggett. A man of few words but with a decisive moral center, Hoggett is one of the most courageous of characters in any movie ever. His belief in Babe tests his own sense of social place. And his eventual choice to stand outside the circle of his peers demonstrates remarkable bravery, an imitable act of faith which I have rarely seen in movies.

That and his serenade/dance jig is simply adorable. I just want to hug this movie.

Not necessarily the best movies ever made, but these are twenty of my favorites, in no particular order.  Each post for the next twenty days will feature a brief discussion of one film (though one or two days will have multiple posts to make up for absences).

Post 15: The Exorcist (1973 dir. William Friedkin)

Again I return to the frigid dark of The Exorcist. I love this movie and know of no other film that so well captures indescribable, inseparable, inexplicable guilt. Each of the main characters carries an overwhelming weight of regret over past behavior. Their sins laid bare. only the sacrifice of a holy person can rectify their collective trauma, personified in the innocence-gone-foul that is Regan MacNeil (Linda Blair).

This is one very frightening film. And it isn’t so much the supernatural, but rather those elements grounded in everyday reality which terrify me. As someone who has undergone invasive medical tests and procedures, the scenes of Regan being examined are difficult to watch. As a father those same scenes fill me with fear and doubt as I imagine my own children receiving the same treatment. The emotional impact in those moments, and throughout the film, works on a multitude of levels.

The movie just feels like it is always trying, but never able, to catch its breath. It just doesn’t stop, nor should it. Nominated for best picture of the year, a unique but not unheard of honor for a drama filled with horror elements (I’m cautiously peering at you Silence of the Lambs), the film deserves all the accolades and praise given to it over these many decades. It is precisely because of the naturalistic settings and acting that the film endures to this day.

The acting in particular always beckons me back, especially Jason Miller as Fr. Karras. He projects such a quiet empathy, a deep and objective love, that I always, always admire him. Just when I begin to wonder, he always expresses his own guilt and fear at just the right moments. He is the audience’s crucible, the vessel through which we can finally begin to, at the very least, approach this material and feel some measure of comfort.

The marriage of guilt and empathy which Miller gives up to the audience is also what makes his character the most willing and vulnerable to the horror patiently awaiting in the dark attic of the final act. It is masterful drama played out on a religious and supernatural canvas. I understand that this subject matter is not for everyone, but it is among the greatest of all films ever made, and one of my favorites.