One day I’ll make a proper essay out of this. Right now, however, I just want to jot-down on paper some thoughts that have been musing upon me since yesterday’s homily. The main thesis of which is as follows: what makes a good Christmas film good is the degree to which the film levies an apocalyptic judgement on the world and redeems it.
First a working, non-conclusive, list of Christmas films that burn with glory: Elf (2003), Children of Men (2006), It’s a Wonderful Life (1946), Arthur Christmas (2011), A Muppet’s Christmas Carol (1992), A Christmas Carol (1984), White Christmas (1954), and The Santa Clause (1994). At some point, perhaps in that essay I’m dreaming about, I’ll make a case for why The Santa Clause and not A Charlie Brown Christmas (1965) is included in this list, for now I’ll just point you in the direction of Josh Gibbs’ review of it and we can talk later.
What these films, what Christmas films that are worthy of the name of the Nativity, have in common is the judgment they levy on the world of the flesh. Sins are exposed as sins. Greed —while masquerading all year as shrewd-businessman-ship— is at last exposed for what it is. Lust —while masquerading all year as ‘love’— is revealed to be totally un-erotic. Take the Decalogue, take the seven deadly sins, or any other catechetical list of transgressions, the best Christmas films expose these with bright and glad candor.
Isaiah chapter 2 was among the lectionary passages this past Sunday. There the prophet tells us of the days, the last days, in which the nations shall stream up into Jerusalem to hear the Law of God, to receive his Judgments, and to walk in his ways. This, a little version of this, is what takes place in the great Christmas movies.
Transgression always demands death. Confession, the glad Christian gift, is not the avoidance of death, but is itself a kind of death. We fall under the weight of our sins, we name ourselves as transgressors, we put on sack-cloth (burial clothes) and ashes (grave dirt). Forgiveness is the new life on the other side of the death of Confession. The God of Jacob raises the dead and forgives sinners —in some great sense it is the same action.
The Joy of a good Christmas film is the joy of the resurrection. Judgment has been levied on the Ebenezer Scrooges, the Walter Hobbses, and the Theo Farrons. They rise again in newness of life —Merry Christmas!— holding in their hands Tiny Tims, Buddy the Elfs, and Dylans.
Advent awaits the Second Coming of the King whose judgments are good and which will result in all things beings made right (a la Julian of Norwich). Christmas films, the good ones, give us foretastes of what that King’s judgments look like.