John Lyttle on film
Your support helps us to tell the story
From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.
At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.
The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.
Your support makes all the difference.All Christmas film fare totes a heavy-handed neo-Victorian moral (blame a certain Mr Dickens); yea, even such gory Ghoultide treats as Black Christmas and the psycho-Santa segment that enlivened Tales from the Crypt. They demand that you express goodwill to all men every bit as much as White Christmas and Miracle on 34th Street. It's just that rather than wring their hands (see Rudolph or Trapped in Paradise or Santa Claus: The Movie - or better yet, don't) they'll wring your neck instead. Turkey-style. That'll teach you to take the birth of Christ in the spirit intended.
The spirit intended is liable to have you retching quicker than Mummy's sage and onion cannonballs, the ones she made in October, the same month she put on the Brussels sprouts. We all know she's going to be in a vile temper, that Dad will be both legless and lazy, and the rug rats will be sick, hit one another and cry hysterically when they discover that Barbie is missing her Cheap Slut ensemble and Action Man doesn't have gripping hands. The Nightmare Before Christmas? This is The Nightmare That is Christmas.
But the morally uplifting movies want us not only to spend time with these people, but to love them too (Home Alone, Home Alone 2, A Christmas Story). Films like The Santa Claus (right) pretend that they encapsulate the true meaning of the season - give, give, give - and are bulwarks against shallow commercialisation. If that's true, how come The Santa Claus didn't put its money where its white beard is and hit cinemas in, say, June? Christmas celluloid - the biggest snow job of them all.
Join our commenting forum
Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies
Comments