The Importance Of, and My Personal Favorite, Christmas-Like's

What’s your personal Die Hard?

One of the multitude of reasons I adore the holiday season is the significance film has with evoking the comforting feeling synonymous with your winter celebration of choosing. I know, the aspiring filmmaker somehow finds a way to make a period of the year defined by time spent with family rather than phones about consuming media, go figure. But when I say film holds significance in the holiday season, I would be hard pressed to find even the staunchest Scrooge or film critic to deny that claim. All time classics like Elf come once a year; they’re simply out of place at any point where the other side of the window shows a world not shrouded in white. With a season marked by cold exteriors and familial bonding, what better activity is there than one where you are literally confined to a single indoor space with those closest to you? 

While saying film is significant to the holidays is therefore not a controversial statement, this next one may be. I don’t like Elf. I’m sorry, I’m only 21 years old, I remember about half the Christmas’ during those years, and I still can’t stand sitting through another two hours of a man-child Will Ferrell in yellow tights! Don’t get me wrong, it’s a classic, but at this point that’s as much of a saving grace as I can offer. I could never see myself watching Elf, or any other “Christmas classic,” on my own, or even really desire to see them outside of a “background noise while serving Christmas dinner” context. They’re meant to be easily digestible, harmless holiday hokeyness, and sometimes that’s all that’s necessary for a cozy Holiday afternoon. But what about a thrilling one?

Sticking with the pretentiousness, Drive opens on a brightly lit, neon L.A. skyline. Slowly racking into focus as the local L.A. Clipper’s game just downtown is relayed over the radio, and we finally catch a glimpse of our silent protagonist. The man with no name. The baseball cap without a logo. 

Meet our new holiday protagonist. 

A few minutes later and we’re cruising through one of the most exhilarating and stylish opening scenes put to film. The driver is silent as his clown masked passengers cower. The stern demeanor gives nothing. He’s emotionless, robotic. No sense of feeling…but a longing for one. A chance encounter with a new neighbor, Irene, demonstrates this deeply affecting wound of loneliness. The driver is stoic because he has to be for the job. Occupation before anything else. Professional, determined, and looking for a way out. The narrative arc follows the driver as he remains tight-lipped, but increasingly expressive in other ways. A bashful smile, the twitch of an eye, or the monumental decision to move Irene to the side in the final act for his first, and only, declaration of pure love. The elevator lights glow, the music swells, the film moves in romantic slow motion as for the first time, our lead couple embraces for the climactic kiss under the mistletoe. Wait, sorry, wrong movie. In this holiday climax, the romantic gesture is followed by brutality, the calm before the storm that is murder instead of a turkey on the dining room floor. That’s right, Drive is a Christmas movie. 

At least, for me it is. For whatever reason, Drive just feels more appropriate to watch with an overcast sky and snow laced earth. Maybe it’s because of the cool blue lighting that makes even a scorching L.A. feel cold. It could be the emotional arc I laid out matching that of the workaholic businessman found in the starring role of most holiday classics. Or, it could just be the fact that I did, in fact, first watch this movie on an overcast day with a snow laced earth. No one can be certain, and I’m not here to make an argumentative essay on why Drive should replace Elf as the new hallmark staple, even I can see that one may be a losing battle. Especially when I go up against my mom; she loves Elf, and finds Ryan Gosling “boring.”

Instead of the typical Holiday films, I find myself being more and more drawn to exploring in these cold months. I’m never going to limit my viewing just because NBC says so (or whatever the streaming service equivalent to a Christmas movie marathon is these days). At the same time, the holiday spirit is too contagious to not indulge. Thus, we arrive at the Christmas-like: the perfect movie to watch during the holidays that isn’t explicitly about the holidays. 

A Christmas-like is the Die Hard of the holiday season. A film that embodies the Christmas spirit in ways unfamiliar to the Hallmark format, a story with the holiday season as a contextual backdrop, or just for how a film feels like Christmas. For example, You’ve Got Mail isn’t a Christmas movie per say, but it does follow a workaholic businessman learning to appreciate relationships more than career success. This story follows the emotional and thematic arc of any given holiday film that seeks to embody the values of the season: relationships, connection, family, generosity, sincerity, etc. Also, a section of the film takes place during winter, which automatically brings it that much closer to Christmas territory. 

What I love about the Christmas-like is how personalized they are. Sure, everyone has their opinion on Die Hard, but I find it fascinating to see which films people like to cuddle up to and enjoy during the coldest hours of a winter night. It’s just a harmless, fun endeavor for any cinema enjoyer to argue their case for why The Godfather, actually, is the perfect Christmas tale.

So keeping with the light-hearted, relaxing nature of the Christmas season, this article will be a list of my personal favorite “Christmas-Like’s” with a hopefully convincing explanation as to why these seemingly unrelated films are actually united by the joy of holiday whimsy. 

Ikiru (1956)

A Kurosawa classic, Ikiru, translated to english to mean “to live,” follows an aging businessman in his final days. After years spent in an office so overwhelmed with work he is quite literally framed by it in typical Kurosawa cinematic excellence, the bureaucratic Mr. Watanabe vows to find the meaning in his life before his terminal cancer permanently steals that opportunity. With snowy landscapes captured in black and white nostalgia, the world is certainly presented as one ripe for the Holiday’s. However, what truly makes this a perfect film for the season of giving is the film’s themes and emotional arc. Spoilers for a movie over half a century old, but the lowly Mr. Watanabe spends his final days desperately attempting to reach out to those he loves; a typical holiday endeavor. Only when it’s too late does the holiday protagonist see the error of their ways, and adapt to become a true proponent of the holiday spirit. Mr. Watanabe experiences such a journey, and a resulting profound life lesson of selflessness, when he decides to spend his fleeting moments on earth giving instead of taking. It is not much, but before his passing Mr. Watanabe was able to fund the completion of a park in a slum neighborhood. His resting place remains the very swing he helped bring to a struggling community, taking part in the joy he produced for the intention of other less fortunate citizens finally seeing a gleam of light in the darkness of the winter shadows. In this way, Ikiru embodies the holiday themes of generosity, selflessness, and includes the oh-so common plot point of a good Christmas flick: the time based incident that forces a man obsessed with work to recognize what’s really important in life. For Mr. Watanabe, just as it is for Scrooge or Jimmy Stewart, this important element that was once missing is revealed to be connection. Family. Warmth. Ikiru, like any other holiday classic, is a celebration of the human spirit facing the dreadful cold, making it a personal favorite Christmas-like. 

Little Women (2018)

Much like Ikiru, the narrative and themes perform just as much heavy lifting as the warm cinematography in supporting the thesis of Greta Gerwig’s masterpiece being a perfect holiday movie. At this point, I’m not even sure if it’s controversial to hold this opinion. The only thing keeping this film from being unarguably a holiday flick is that the story doesn’t explicitly revolve around solely Christmas. Outside of that, the cinematography evokes the cozy atmosphere of a family gathering in a single household for holiday celebrations. The production design masterfully captures the time period that, for whatever reason, has always felt naturally associated with Christmas. Felt top hats, layered and intricate dresses, cobblestone pathways and fireplaces in wooden lodges; all of these 1800s early American iconography screams holiday for the implication of cold being constantly combated by analog attempts at warmth. The emphasis the cinematography has on visualizing character dynamics, coupled with the specific moment of history that I have always found to be particularly evocative of the holiday mood, makes for a film that simply looks like a holiday classic. Outside of visuals, the narrative so clearly overlaps with the age-old holiday story. Another workaholic, but this time, one that already values family and relationships. The familial connection is never lost or broken, but rather, the supporting glue that keeps both the story, and Jo March, whole. It’s a film governed by character dynamics all involving some sort of familial or romantic love captured with stunning warmth that emphasizes the relationships at the heart of the film, and the holiday season.

Decision to Leave (2019)

This, besides Drive, will probably come as the most difficult to defend. Park-Chan Wook is not exactly known for making sincere films so consistent with the holiday genre. Decision to Leave is not heavy on themes of humanity, love, selflessness, etc. Unlike the previous films, the cinematography is designed to engage, thrill, and tease with anxiety inducing mystery. In fact, the entire film is a thrill ride, either from the climactic chases or mind-bending narrative turns visualized with one-to-one levels of excitement. Decision to Leave is not a relaxing movie, but it’s a cold one. The film incorporates snowy landscapes as much as its sun-glossed beaches. Frigid blues dominate the film’s color palette, making for a particularly cold viewing experience. The narrative themes of obsession are a contorted version of the workaholic learning to value relationships over material possessions. Instead, this is the anti-Christmas-like, a film that presents toxic relationships and a deep desperation for love through twists and turns that keep the movie like a strong liquor, intoxicating and hard to stomach. This contrast is made all the more clear from the aforementioned snowy cinematography, which often uses the weather as symbolic for the main relationship. A holiday specific element is thus incorporated into a plot-line revolving around obsession and romance. For that, I personally cannot wait to begin my Christmas morning with one of the best detective thrillers put to screen. 

Fargo (1996)

Again, crime finds a way into this year’s Christmas. Following the most erratic, ill-prepared hit of the holiday season, Fargo is even more of a personal pick for its location. The midwest is home, and those silly accents make me nostalgic for a time and place I so often wish to return to. I’ve driven those gray highways, walked the snowy streets of Chicago, I’ve even trudged through ankle high sludge the same way an irritated Buscemi does when burying his secret. Nostalgia is near synonymous with the holiday season, and that coupled with the realistic depiction of a version of home covered in snow would be enough to make this film Christmas-y enough for me, but there’s the added details that make it particularly enjoyable during the holiday’s. First, the writing. It’s no secret that Fargo is one of the greatest American screenplays ever, and the comedy provides a sense of levity that is always appreciated during the holiday season. It may be cold, dark at 4pm, and thus the perfect season to enact murder, but Christmas is supposed to be fun! And if Fargo is anything besides timeless, it’s fun. There is about a five minute stretch in the film where I didn’t laugh, and that felt like an eternity for a story that manages to keep you gleefully entertained for its entire runtime. If the order of this list indicates a range of Christmas-like’s from most to least “Christmas-y,” Fargo certainly belongs on the opposite end of Ikiru. While incorporating snow into it’s cinematography, narratively and thematically it isn’t the most “merry” film. However, that will never keep me from turning on this forever holiday classic when I start to somehow miss even the gray cross between mud and snow covering the midwest streets I grew up on. 

And with my list of favorite Christmas-likes set, the tree twinkling, and the fireplace crackling under its own warmth, it’s time to watch some movies. Just…please, don’t make it Elf. After all, it’s the holiday season!