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Everyone has a beloved film, a film dubbed a classic by the masses regardless of whether or not it's actually any good (Steel Magnolias, anyone?), which they just can’t seem to make a connection with no matter how hard they try. White Christmas is that film for me. I do see plenty of charms in it, sure, but I find it less than satisfying as a whole.
I’m a big fan of musicals, the thin plotting here isn’t that much of a problem for me, so the characters randomly bursting into song-and-dance doesn’t affect me any. I think that it’s the syrupy sweet, antiseptic vibe of the whole show that irks me the wrong way. Many of the best musicals -- Meet Me in St. Louis, An American in Paris -- featured darker undercurrents at play. There are moments when we question if everything will actually work out in the end, like the gloomy undercurrent in “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” or the way that Gene Kelly’s sugar mama emotional manipulations after noticing that he has feelings for the cute younger French girl.
There’s never a moment of doubt, dread or sadness in White Christmas, we know everything is going to work out fine in the end. What this film needed was a little angst around the edges to make it more interesting. That Bing Crosby will wind up with Rosemary Clooney is never in doubt, even when she runs off for a brief spell it comes across more like plot conventions than something her character would actually feel compelled to do. This film’s safe, balmy, soothing gel makes a brief film feel much longer.
At least White Christmas is not without its charms. I’ve never warmed up to Crosby much as an actor, I find him to be in a living coma when trying to emote, but this film luckily has him singing and dancing more than emoting. And his performance of “White Christmas” is THE version of the song, his sheepish voice merging with the lyrics and melody to create a sonic blanket to wrap you up in. Vera-Ellen is a terrific and energetic dancer, and a lovely presence throughout. Rosemary Clooney and Vera-Ellen make “Sisters” a highlight of the film using nothing more than giant fans and some simple choreography. And Danny Kaye is a manic livewire, mugging and camping it up to the extreme. The four of them, especially Crosby and Kaye, make for a lively group and create a nice, believable sense of relationships and comradery amongst them.
It may be corny, and for me a little dull, but I can see why it’s such a perennial Christmas time favorite. The plot is a slapdash bit of clichéd story points, but the score is pleasant, there’s some nice comedic work from the stars, and quite a few of the musical sequences stick out after the film has ended. I guess that’s all one could hope for when the film was thrown together from random Irving Berlin songs and a storyline was crafted around them instead of in service of them. It could have been more satisfying, but it also could have been much worse – just look at any of the current jukebox musicals.
