The blessing of Christmas Vacation
Recently, I have read a lot about Christmas movies. People make lists of favorites, debate what is or isn’t a classic, even whether it is or isn’t a Christmas movie (For the record, while I love Die Hard, it is not a Christmas movie).
I like almost all Christmas movies, as long as they were not produced for television, specifically the Hallmark Channel. Favorites include obvious movies like Elf and Christmas Story; classics like Miracle on 34th Street and It’s a Wonderful Life; and lesser known moves that are so bad they are fun like The Long Kiss Goodnight with Geena Davis and Samuel L. Jackson or Trapped in Paradise with Nicholas Cage, Jon Lovitz and Dana Carvey.
My favorite movie, of all time, regardless of the season, is actually a Christmas movie — National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. I used to watch it dozens of times a year. When I was in college, I spent a summer, very poor, living alone in a nearly empty small-college town. I didn’t have cable so I got fuzzy network television and I listened to baseball on the radio. I also had a VCR. I had a couple movies but I borrowed Christmas Vacation and it never got returned. I had loved it before but that summer Clark, Ellen, the kids and the entire extended clan became like family to me.
I watched the movie so often the tape eventually wore out. This was only a minor inconvenience because I know every scene — the dialog and music, each facial expression, every pause and transition.
This is actually what got me banned form watching the movie. Let me explain.
My wife hates this movie. When we were first married, she said she didn’t really care for it. This seemed impossible to me and I set about righting this wrong.
At first, I assumed the problem was that she hadn’t heard me recite every single line of the movie three seconds ahead of the on-screen character. Apparently, that wasn’t the problem.
Then I thought that perhaps this movie is an acquired taste. I thought if we watched it over and over, that would help. It did not.
Eventually my wife ruled that she will watch the movie only once a year. Since nearly all of our television watching is done together, her decision means I too can only watch once a year. So, I make the most of it. About the time my children are selecting Halloween costumes, I bring the movie out and set it on the kitchen counter. By the time the Thanksgiving turkey is bought, the movie is making random, surprise appearances. I will put it in the medicine cabinet so when Melissa opens it to brush her teeth, there the movie sits. I will put it in the silverware drawer or under her keys or inside her bookbag.
Finally, I set a viewing date. I begin a countdown, announcing each morning the number of days until Clark W. Griswold makes his annual appearance. As the day approaches, the announcement is made with growing volume, cheer and even dancing. My revelry is perhaps over the top, but none of it seems to help Melissa.
I don’t know what her problem is and I have done all I can, but she seems to enjoy it less and less.
Even so, her dislike does not diminish my joy. I actually look forward to setting my phone ringtones and notifications to Christmas Vacation sound clips. Between Thanksgiving week and New Years, when anyone texts me, everyone in my vicinity hears my phone blare the first seven notes of a Polka version Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer. It is enough that those who love the movie recognize it and smile.
So from Cousin Eddie and I, “Merry Christmas!” For decency’s sake, I’ll leave it there.
-Mac Cordell is a reporter for the Journal-Tribune.