Holiday Inn (1942)
What is there (for me) not to love about “Holiday Inn”? Not only is it the classic holiday movie responsible for the single most inescapable Christmas song ever (the song “White Christmas” was written for “Holiday Inn” (1942) not “White Christmas” which was released in 1954), it’s also a romantic-dram-edy and, oh yeah, a musical. It is a musical-ass musical, featuring no less than a dozen full-on musical numbers (courtesy of Irving Berlin), the velvet vocal cords of Bing Crosby and the lithe and limber frame of Fred Astaire, all swathed in costumes designed by the acclaimed Edith Head. (For those who have trouble suspending their disbelief when it comes to the idea of characters randomly bursting into song in the course of their day, I offer consolation in that the main characters are vaudeville performers and most of the songs are set in the context that they are being performed onstage.)
Jim Hardy (Bing Crosby) and his fiancé Lila Dixon (Virginia Dale) are planning to retire from show biz and move to a farm in Connecticut, leaving their longtime vaudeville partner Ted Hanover (Fred Astaire) to find a new act. Instead, Jim (Crosby) finds himself moving to the farm solo after Lila leaves him for Ted (Astaire) and the stage. Anticipating a life of leisure in his retirement, Jim quickly finds the grueling upkeep of the farm has landed him in a sanitarium following a nervous break (oops, um, spoiler alert?). While in the sanitarium he hatches a scheme to open his (sizable) home as an inn featuring live musical performances with an added caveat that the inn would be open exclusively on holidays, so as to allow him to be sufficiently lazy, while still affording him the opportunity to keep performing. Enter the lovely Linda Mason (Marjorie Reynolds) who wins the role of leading lady at Jim’s fledgling inn and, soon enough, his heart. Of course it’s not quite so tidy as that. Hi-jinx ensue as jealousy, fear, infidelity, mistaken identity, abandonment issues, the lure of tinsel town, and black-out drinking all play key roles in a seemingly universal attempt to keep kindred spirits apart.
I love everything about the old-timey, cinematic-reality this movie takes me to. This kind of gentle and demure world where men (like, ALL men) wore suits and ladies wore stockings and hats and gloves and everyone knew how to dance. And dancing meant two people, making physical contact, and moving in unison in a (generally) set sequence of steps. And when a gentleman kissed his fiancé it was on the cheek. Not to mention this audacious notion of a world where there isn’t yet an official Memorial Day but where people will go out to celebrate and enjoy a special performance just for Lincoln** or Washington’s Birthdays. I especially appreciate Jim’s simple desire for the inn to be a place where he can do his best “without any illusions of glory.” He’s an uncomplicated man (albeit a lazy one) with a simple desire to play his music as best he can… of course, that is, as long as he and his loved ones only have to work about 15 days a year.
Who wouldn’t agree with that?
**some versions of the movie have been edited to remove the scene with the song “Abraham” as it is performed in black face.
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