OPINION: National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation and the Power of Repeat Viewing

Courtesy of Warner Bros.

Perhaps my favorite aspect of teaching and writing about film is introducing people who primarily watch movies as a fun pastime – i.e., they’re not obsessive weirdos like me – to the power of repeat viewings. Films aren’t preserved in amber like that mosquito in Jurassic Park. Much like people, they evolve over time for a host of reasons – including changes in cultural norms and viewers’ personal experiences.

Even simpler than that, our cinematic palates tend to grow more sophisticated over time, much like our taste buds. Do you feel the same way about coffee or asparagus at 40 years old as you did when you were a kid? For most of us, the answer is probably not. So why should we expect our feelings for certain movies to stay the same for decades?

That’s certainly the case for “important” films like Citizen Kane. When I was an insufferable teenager who thought he knew everything, I told anyone who’d listen that Orson Welles’ masterpiece was overrated. What was the big deal? I’d seen a ton of movies that used similar techniques when it came to cinematography, makeup, flashbacks and other storytelling devices that added depth and complexity to the narrative.

What dumb teenage me didn’t understand – because he hadn’t watched nearly enough movies or studied basic film history – was that Citizen Kane helped establish the template for those newer, more ostentatious movies that did it “better.” Viewing Welles’ work through a modern lens while simultaneously viewing it through “1941 goggles” helps you understand its innovative contributions to cinema much more clearly.

However, the same concept also holds true for less serious fare. That includes goofy holiday treats like National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation, which I watch at least once a year. I’ve always loved the perennial staple, but my reasons for loving it have changed in the nearly 30 years (what?!) since its release.

First, a brief aside: is there anyone out there who hasn’t seen it? Statistically, I’m sure there’s somebody, so here’s a quick summary of the barely-there plot. The third installment in Chevy Chase’s sort-of beloved franchise (the original Vacation and Christmas are great, but let’s pretend European or Vegas don’t exist; the sequel/reboot hybrid with Ed Helms is surprisingly decent) finds the Griswolds preparing for a stressful holiday season since both sets of in-laws will be staying under the same roof for weeks.

Clark (Chase) goes to extremes to make everything perfect, while his long-suffering wife Ellen (Beverly D’Angelo) chases behind him quietly cleaning up the inevitable disasters. Their kids Audrey and Rusty (played in this installment by Juliette Lewis and future Big Bang Theory star Johnny Galecki), watch in equal parts bemusement and horror as the grandparents (John Randolph, Diane Ladd, E.G. Marshall and Doris Roberts) toss out passive-aggressive “compliments.”

Then, uninvited cousins Eddie (Randy Quaid) and Catherine (Miriam Flynn) ramp up the insanity even further by parking their giant, filthy RV in the driveway and unleashing their kids and rottweiler. Clark handles it as well as he can, until his simmering anger explodes in one of his trademarked unhinged rants. Still, there’s a surprising amount of heartwarming Christmas spirit mixed in with the absurdity, which makes for a well-rounded holiday classic.

Because Christmas Vacation is such a fun, quick experience (it’s only 97 minutes long), the rewatch value is off the charts. There were years when my family would just keep the movie on repeat while decorating and wrapping gifts (first on VHS, then DVD, and now Blu-ray), like TBS does every year with A Christmas Story. And since it has been in constant rotation every December, for decades, I notice new details and have different favorite parts with every viewing.

As a kid (when, honestly, I had no business watching the PG-13 comedy to begin with), I loved the animated opening sequence. As Santa Claus got pummeled, electrocuted and set on fire, I cackled with glee the same way I did when Bugs Bunny outsmarted Daffy Duck, or when Wile E. Coyote failed once again to catch the Road Runner, resulting in further self-inflicted calamity.

When Santa’s reindeer flew him off into the night and the cartoon faded into the Griswolds embarking on their doomed trek to pick out a Christmas tree, I would sigh with disappointment and quickly lose interest.

As a teenager, my preference shifted to the visual humor. Screenwriter John Hughes and director Jeremiah Chechik stuff the movie with a never-ending combination of gloriously over-the-top slapstick (the squirrel attack has never failed to make me howl with laughter) and subtle visual gags (I’m ashamed to admit how long it took me to realize that Ellen slyly flings a forkful of Catherine’s horrifically overcooked turkey over her shoulder rather than eat it).

Once I hit my early-20s, I focused more closely on Hughes’ brilliant, hilarious dialogue. Snippets of conversation that flew over my head a few years earlier were now a perfect fit for my warped sense of humor. As the years went by, I’d continue to catch even more incredible jokes I missed because the actors are so quick and subtle that punchlines fly right over viewers heads if they’re not paying attention. That’s also true for shockingly risqué lines that – I’m guessing – blew right past the MPAA because they’re delivered in stealth mode.

Finally, now that I’m a husband and dad, I find myself drawn to the heartwarming moments. Years ago, I would’ve never imagined I’d get choked up at Clark watching home movies while stuck in the attic, or his family’s reaction when he and Ellen finally get the lights to work, or Clark offering to make sure Eddie and Catherine’s kids get Christmas presents since they lost their house.

But there’s such an undercurrent of melancholy flowing beneath all the hilarity – much like the holidays in real life – that darned if I haven’t found myself brushing away tears during my last few viewings. I’m sure that as my daughters grow older and having kids of their own, I’ll eventually identify more with the grandparent characters – although I hope I’m more like Clark’s kindhearted dad than Ellen’s cantankerous one.

So, if there’s any kind of moral to this column, perhaps it’s this: no movie is too “beneath us” to analyze. I can’t count the number of times I’ve been told, “you’re reading too much into this movie… we’re just watching it for fun.” But, for a nerdy pop culture scholar like myself, those are the films worth studying the most. What says more about us – what we like, what we don’t, what we’re afraid of, what makes us sad, what makes us angry, etc. – than the way we choose to spend our free time?

If you’re like me, you don’t have a lot of that to waste. So, when you decide how you want to spend those few brief hours of repose, it’s as much of a character study as it is entertainment. If that holds true for Christmas Vacation, then it can apply to virtually anything.