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Of course, I already knew most of the story. You can’t get away from it that absolutely; after all, the story’s been re-used several times. The fun was watching the details that haven’t made it into the cultural database.

The first two thirds of the movie was pretty darn good. I appreciated how George Bailey had grand plans that kept getting interrupted by his sense of duty to others. He didn’t get to college, he didn’t get a honeymoon, he didn’t get to have a lot of money or go to cities around the world or do anything he’d planned. Instead he compromised, and compromised, and compromised.

Not that that’s a bad thing. That’s just the way life happens sometimes.

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I wasn’t feeling the last third of the movie, though. From the time Clarence hit the ground on, it took a turn that was a bit too optimistic for me, and a bit narcissistic. I mean, according to Clarence’s reality, no other boy could have saved George’s brother, and Mary would have turned into an old maid who couldn’t possibly have found another mate, and nobody in the world would have stood up to old Mr. Potter. Et cetera.

I’m only half serious here; I’m well aware of the limited message that Frank Capra was trying to give. And while it’s a little heavy handed for me, I do understand the appeal of that message, especially at Christmastime. Regardless, it was all worth it for the scene between George Bailey and his daughter Zuzu. That was a sweet moment.

And of course, without It’s A Wonderful Life, we wouldn’t have The Lost Ending to It’s A Wonderful Life.

Merry Christmas, movie house!

Hitchcock is amazing. Even today’s directors don’t hold a candle to his skill. Here we have a mystery with clues flying all over the place as the audience follows Ben and Jo around. But there isn’t enough information to know the good guys from the bad, and the audience is left to try (unsuccessfully) to piece it all together.

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At this point Hitchcock does something that most filmmakers won’t. At just the right time, as the tension is becoming unbearable, he veers from the lead characters’ perspective and gives the audience an additional bit of information. He did it in Rear Window when the audience watches a woman leave the neighbor’s apartment while Jeffries sleeps, sure that she’s been murdered. In The Man Who Knew Too Much, Hitchcock takes us to the kidnappers, where we learn exactly when in a piece of music a man will be killed. He points out which instrument to watch and lets us hear a recording several times to make sure we’ve got it.

Then he drops us back into the lead characters’ lap, where we find our place in the viewing fundamentally changed. We aren’t following them around as they search for clues anymore, we’re trying to lead them around hoping they figure out what we already know in time to stop a murder. Hitchcock has made us active participants, powerless to do anything but watch in horror.

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Jimmy Stewart is wonderful as the clumsy and confused doctor put completely out of his element without the first idea of what to do. It’s an intriguing series of events that leads to the meat of the story, and Stewart is an exceptional choice for getting the audience there without realizing it.

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Doris Day (below) does an impressive job, especially given the departure this was from her usual light-and-fluffy comedies. I wouldn’t call her acting revolutionary, but she’s certainly charming in the role, and especially effective near the beginning when her husband is dismissive of her suspicions.

This is brilliant film making. It’s not my favorite Hitchcock (that still belongs to Rear Window), but still great.