After The War (that’s WWII for anyone in doubt), two military buddies, Bob Wallace (Bing Crosby) and Phil Davis (Danny Kaye) team up, becoming highly successful song and dance men. When Betty and Judy Haynes (Rosemary Clooney, Vera Ellen), a sister act, enter their lives, Phil decides to do a bit of matchmaking. This leads them all to Vermont, where their old general (Dean Jagger) is having a rough time as a inn keeper. How do you pair up the leads and save the day? With an elaborate stage show and the music of Irving Berlin, of course.
Is there a better icon of the light, colorful, and joyfully shallow side to Christmas than the bright and shiny musical White Christmas? Obviously I think not. Oh, it hasn’t got a brain in its cute little head, but brains can be over rated. It’s got more schmaltz than an After School Special about orphans with cancer, and characters whose behavior has little to do with human beings and a lot to do with whatever the plot needs at the moment, but damn is it fun. If you know someone who doesn’t understand the true meaning of Christmas, forget about The Nativity or A Christmas Carol. Just hand him a mug of hot chocolate and sit him down with this classic.
So, if the story jogs between the simple and the absurd (why is the finale any less of a blow to the general’s pride than putting him on TV would have been?), and Betty Haynes brings overreaction to new heights, why does the movie work? The cast has a lot to do with it. Crosby and Clooney were two of the best singers of the silver screen (well, make that the Vistavision screen; White Christmas was the first film shot in this wide screen format), plus Crosby has an amiable persona that invites the viewer to join him for late night buttermilk and cookies, or several beers. Vera Ellen’s talent was less with her vocal cords and more with her legs. Her dancing is beyond her co-stars’ skills (and beyond just about anyone’s you’re likely to find), so dancer John Brascia was brought in, to try and keep up with her (and given only one line). It doesn’t matter; when she begins to move, you won’t notice anyone else on screen. Danny Kaye supplies broad comedy. He was the Jim Carry of his time, but with talent. He could sing and dance, and while he was often teetering on the edge between funny and stupid, he usually kept his footing, and always did in White Christmas.
This is a musical, and no musical works without good songs. No problem here. Irving Berlin offers many of his finest tunes, some borrowed from earlier productions. Even the lesser numbers (We’ll Follow the Old Man, Sisters) may cause you to tap your toes, and the latter is played for laughs: Crosby and Kaye in drag, lip syncing to Clooney. Most of the rest are memorable pieces that have caused many to search for a soundtrack album (there isn’t one; Clooney was signed with a different record company than Crosby). The Best Things Happen While You’re Dancing and Abraham provide the backdrop to electric dance numbers, and Count Your Blessings is such a simple, sweet song, that your kids are likely to be humming it for weeks. Of course there is the title song, performed first by Crosby alone, accompanied only by a music box, and then as a grand production number.
With spectacular costumes by Edith Head, beautiful cinematography in rich Technicolor, and the always sure hand of director Michael Curtiz (The Adventures of Robin Hood, Casablanca, We’re No Angels), it adds up to entertainment for the entire family that can be watched again and again.
Conceived as a sequel to Holiday Inn (Fred Astaire turned down the offer), White Christmas keeps only one star (Crosby) and a pair of songs from the older film. It’s very different, but equally good. Both are on my shelf, and should be on yours. It may no longer be considered hip, but not everything has to be. Every once in a while, it’s nice to embrace a bit of non-cynical fluff.