More so than with any other movie, whenever I tell people I haven’t seen A Christmas Story, their reaction is almost universally “Wha?!? ZOMG WTF YOU HAVE TO SEE IT!” I’m not sure why I never saw it. I just didn’t. I checked with the family to see if maybe they rented it years ago and I was sick that day, but my parents and one sister hadn’t seen it either. So I brought the DVD over about a week before Christmas and we all sat down to watch it together.
What an amazing movie. It centers around Ralphie, a nine-year-old boy in 1940ish Indiana who wants a BB gun for Christmas, in a story told in voiceover by Jean Shepherd, Ralphie’s older self and writer of the film. The rest of the characters, his parents, brother, friends, bullies, and his teacher all exist for the sole purpose of telling Ralphie’s story. Such focus is certainly part of the movie’s success.
One of the strengths of A Christmas Story is its use of universal themes to connect with the audience. For example, Ralphie doesn’t want just any BB gun. He wants “a Red Ryder BB gun with a compass in the stock, and this thing which tells time.” He puts the specific description in his schoolwork; he asks Santa for it by name; he puts an ad for it in his mother’s copy of Look magazine.
I had really specific Christmas wishes too, and even though I’m from a different generation and my list never included anything like a Red Ryder, the story rings true to me because of that common experience of wanting something SO BAD that you could TASTE it. My lists were more of the video game variety, and oh how I remember that glorious Christmas when we got Super Mario Bros. 3. I’ll never forget it, and I’ll never forget the heartless way my parents made us go to church before we played it. Like it was Jesus’ birthday or something. (He’d've understood, I just know it.)
As Jean Shepherd ambles masterfully through Ralphie’s Christmas story, he touches on other things too. Ralphie has parents who manage to be real even while they have some fairly stereotypical traits. Shepherd never names them (Mom is just Mom and Dad is The Old Man), but they’re just as important to Ralphie’s life as they should be, but he’s starting to need his space too. I loved the way Mom knew when to punish, when to comfort, and when to cover for Ralphie. His little brother is a nuisance and relies on Ralphie, perhaps a little more than he wants.
Then there’s the completely separate world of Ralphie at school. His teacher, the dowdy Miss Shields, holds a place of reverence, but not so much that he doesn’t try to get away with stuff. His relationship with his friends is awkward, the way kids are at that age when they’re figuring out that how to deal with people they like who aren’t their family.
Pre-puberty but post-little kid, Ralphie’s at an age where he has one foot in both worlds. His fascination with The Old Man’s major award, “the soft glow of electric sex gleaming in the window,” is interrupted only by Little Orphan Annie on the radio. He knows enough about grade fixing that he tries to bribe Miss Shields, but he wants to go see Santa Claus at the department store. He wants to help The Old Man change a tire, but isn’t old enough to say the F-dash-dash-dash word. A Christmas Story walked the line on that characterization exceptionally.
Finally, there’s the daydream sequences. The movie wouldn’t have been as wonderful without them. Ralphie saves his family from cartoonish criminals (with his Red Ryder, of course), goes blind from soap poisoning (to make his parents sorry for washing his mouth out with soap), and my personal favorite, writing the best Theme the world has ever known. It’s poetry. Sheer poetry. The movie, I mean.
I’m trying to think of something negative to say about A Christmas Story, but I’m coming up empty. I hate fawning reviews, but this is one good movie. My new Christmas favorite, in fact. If you haven’t seen it, ZOMG WTF YOU HAVE TO SEE IT!
srsly
