A Christmas Story
“A Christmas Story” is one of those films that is easily enjoyed as a child, but, I think, becomes truly beloved as an adult. The main factor in that, obviously, is the nostalgia we feel in watching young Ralphie (played note-perfect by Peter Billingsley in one of the finest child performances of all-time) try to maneuver his way into getting a Daisy Red Ryder 200-shot Carbine Action BB Gun for Christmas.
However, I think the main reason adults can continue to watch “A Christmas Story” every Christmas, and not feel guilty, is because as we get older, we understand the characters of Mother (Melinda Dillon) and the Old Man (Darren McGavin) more. Even if we aren’t parents, we understand the mindset of the Old Man when he is negotiating the price of the family’s Christmas tree or fighting the house’s ominous-sounding furnace, and feel blessed if we had a mother that was as caring as Raphie’s, especially after getting into a fight with our own, personal Scut Farcus’s.
It’s more than just identifying with the characters though; it’s little moments and touches that provided some of the most wonderful memories. One that sticks out is on Christmas Eve, when the parents convince Ralphie and Randy that they had better get to bed, or risk being passed over by Santa. The kids sprint to bed, and after they hear the doors close, the Old Man says, “Okay, let’s get ’em.” Only an adult can understand the subtle pleasures of that line. For the kids, well, they’ll understand when they get older. For now, they’ll have to live with the bizarre trip to see a department store Santa, and the fluffy fate that awaits them; understanding, all too well, that humiliation when the aunt who thinks you’re a perpetually 4-year-old girl makes you that set of pink bunny pajamas (What? No one else had that happen?); or remembering that first time they triple dog dared a classmate to stick their tongue to a frozen flagpole.
There are so many other moments, as Roger Ebert himself pointed out in his 2000 Great Movies review of the film, that the entire review could just be a list of great moments from the film, and that would probably get the joy of Bob Clark’s holiday classic across to anyone who hasn’t seen it (if there is anyone after the annual 24-hour marathon Turner Broadcasting runs every Christmas). Some of the best moments for me, however, come from the narration by Jean Shepherd, the humorist upon whose memoirs “A Christmas Story” is based. Taking us into the head of the 9-year-old Ralphie (and subsequently, his own head), we get the type of first-person narrative that is rich with pleasures no other holiday-themed film can match. On the surface, the film is all about Ralphie trying to get his hands on the Red Rider BB Gun for Christmas, but if it were just that simple, the film would have been another “Jingle All the Way,” and I’m sorry, but the one was plenty for me. Again, I could just make a list, and you’d probably get the idea: “Football? Football? What’s a football?”; “They looked at me as if I had lobsters crawling out of my ears.”; “It was all over – I was dead. What would it be? The guillotine? Hanging? The chair? The rack? The Chinese water torture? Hmmph. Mere child’s play compared to what surely awaited me.”. Dialogue so wonderful and witty, especially as spoken by Shepherd, has no place in a modern Christmas movie. Don’t get me wrong: some, like “Home Alone” and “National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation” help raise the bar, but few movies are as easily quotable, and as delightfully entertaining the first time you see them as they are the 30th time, as this one. And think of the lessons this film gave for my generation as we headed into adulthood:
-Use Lifebouy soap for real torture after your child drops an F-bomb.
-When it comes to lamps shaped like legs, the possibility of foul play is always there if the wife breaks it.
-If your child asks for a BB gun, any “no” should always be followed by, “You’ll shoot your eye out!”
-Secret Societies offered by radio programming will usually just involve decoded messages that end up being commercials.
-And always remember: the Lone Ranger’s nephew’s horse is named Victor, but then again, everyone knows that.
