NATIONAL LAMPOON’S CHRISTMAS VACATION: We’re Gonna Have the Happiest Christmas Since Bing Crosby Tap-Danced with Danny F*cking Kaye

National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation (1989) – Directed by Jeremiah S. Chechik – Starring Chevy Chase, Beverly D’Angelo, Randy Quaid, Juliette Lewis, Johnny Galecki, John Randolph, Diane Ladd, E.G. Marshall, Doris Roberts, William Hickey, Mae Questel, Miriam Flynn, Nicholas Guest, Julia Louis-Dreyfus, and Brian Doyle Murray.

I miss John Hughes.

For all of the jokes and all of the inappropriateness of NATIONAL LAMPOON’S CHRISTMAS VACATION, what makes this a fantastic movie is the scene where Clark Griswold (Chevy Chase) gets trapped in the attic while the rest of the extended family goes off Christmas shopping. Digging through old chests to find clothes to keep him warm, Clark puts on some of his mother’s furs and gloves when he discovers old 8 MM reels of Christmas holidays from his youth. Despite being trapped in the attic, despite the cold, Clark watches the reels and becomes lost in the memories. It’s clear that Clark desires an idealized holiday, but even in these old reels we don’t see it, and this makes Clark an incredibly tragic, rather than simply nostalgic, character. Clark isn’t simply trying to recapture his youth in his quest for the perfect Christmas – he’s still trying to have a perfect Christmas, and he believes – he really believes – that now that it’s HIS Christmas, that he’s the breadwinner, that everyone is coming to his house, that he’s in charge – he can make this happen.

But he can’t, and his wife Ellen (Beverly D’Angelo) knows it. “Sparky,” as she affectionately calls her husband, has a tendency to build up his expectations to such a level that no one can live up to them. Ellen is trying to protect her husband from himself, but she knows that he’s going to go through with everything and instead of stomping on his optimism, she steps back and lets him go for it – but she’s always ready to step in and offer him some comfort when he needs it.

The on-screen chemistry between Chase and D’Angelo is fascinating to watch, because they’re amazing together without really being amazing together. Theirs is a very subtle relationship, with Clark sometimes seemingly oblivious to just how great his wife is to him, and for him. Clark repeatedly gets lost in the quest for the perfect moment as Ellen subtly stands by to prop him up.

And that’s the lesson Clark learns in CHRISTMAS VACATION – forget the postcard moments and forget trying to make reality live up to your lofty expectations and just enjoy the moments for what they are. Families are crazy but they’re yours, so enjoy them while you can, even if they do belittle your attempts at installing 25,000 twinkling Christmas lights on your house, show up unexpectedly and dump their RV’s toxic sewage into the storm drain in front of your house, kidnap your boss, trap you in the attic, burn down your tree, and guilt you into buying Christmas gifts for your kids because you haven’t worked in seven years.

The main plot sees Clark’s parents (John Randolph, Diane Ladd) and Ellen’s parents Art and Frances (E.G. Marshall, Doris Roberts) coming to Clark’s house for Christmas. The move forces the Griswold children, Rusty and Audrey (played this time around by Johnny Galecki and Juliette Lewis), to move into the same room and inexplicably share a bed. Unlike the increasingly insipid Focker movies, CHRISTMAS VACATION never stops being Clark’s movie, yet all of the parents have their moments. Clark’s dad displays some of the same overly-positive traits that Clark does, but he’s also more realistic, trying to let Clark down easy that the attempt at a perfect Christmas has turned into an unmitigated disaster. Clark’s mom is this steadying influence in the background, and you can see some of the same quiet, supportive qualities in her that you see in Ellen. Ellen’s mom and dad are the much more sarcastic couple, with E.G. Marshall getting off some subtly vicious one-liners.

When Clark’s attempt to light the house fails, Art sarcastically deadpans, “Beautiful, Clark,” and Frances caustically jibes, “Talk about pissing your money away. I hope you kids see what a silly waste of resources this was.” Audrey lovingly comes to her father’s defense: “He worked really hard, Grandma.” Art reminds her, “So do washing machines.”

Or his best line of the movie; after Clark has managed to get the Christmas lights working (thanks to Ellen unknowingly flipping the right switch; Clark plays no role in getting them to finally turn on), Art reminds him, “They’re not twinkling.”

“I know that, Art,” Clark replies, defeat creeping into his voice.

This attitudinal conflict lies at the heart of CHRISTMAS VACATION; Clark is presented as a sort of Last Man Standing when it comes to believing in Christmas (one of his co-workers refers to him as “the last family man”), confronted on all sides by those who’ve lost the spirit of the season. John Hughes, at heart, is an optimist swimming in a pessimistic world, and Clark personifies this to the nth degree. It’s fitting that his negativity builds like a pressure cooker throughout the film, finally being set off when his Christmas bonus gets delivered and instead of a check, it’s an enrollment in the Jelly of the Month Club. There’s a few outbursts along the way, of course, but they’re small and self-contained. Whenever things turn for the better, Clark is instantly willing to let all bygones be bygones, embracing anyone and everyone in his attempt to push the perfect Christmas through.

Splendidly, CHRISTMAS VACATION doesn’t force any idyllic finish – Cousin Eddie (Randy Quaid) kidnaps Clark’s boss (Brian Doyle Murray), who realizes what a cheap prick he was by refusing to give out Christmas bonuses, the SWAT teams breaks into the house, Uncle Lewis lights a stogie, igniting the toxic sewage and blasting a plastic Santa Claus into the sky as Aunt Bethany leads them in a chorus of “The Star-Spangled Banner.”

It’s an imperfectly perfect ending to a film about an imperfectly perfect holiday. NATIONAL LAMPOON’S CHRISTMAS VACATION is a splendid movie, and serves as an antithesis, of sorts, to Dr. Seuss’ How the Grinch Stole Christmas. Where the Grinch believes the worst about Christmas, Clark believes the best, yet both are surrounded by people who believe the opposite of their own yuletide attitudes; in the end, Christmas brings both communities together.

Be sure to check out the Holiday Review Index for all the Holiday-themed reviews to be found at Atomic Anxiety.

FROM DUSK TILL DAWN: I’m a Mean Motherf*ckin’ Servant of God

From Dusk till Dawn (1996) – Directed by Robert Rodriguez – Starring George Clooney, Quentin Tarantino, Harvey Keitel, Juliette Lewis, Ernest Liu, Salma Hayek, Cheech Marin, Danny Trejo, Tom Savini, Fred Williamson, Michael Parks, John Saxon, Kelly Preston, and John Hawkes.

FROM DUSK TILL DAWN is a collaboration between Quentin Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez; Tarantino wrote the script, Rodriguez directs the script, and Tarantino acts in the script. DUSK is really two movies mashed together, the Tarantino opening setting up the Rodriguez closing, and it’s a clear first run for their Grindhouse project a decade later.

In the first half of the film, we focus on Seth (George Clooney) and Richie (Tarantino) Gecko’s run from the law. Seth is the cool bad-ass and Richie is the disturbed psychotic; the former kills only when necessary and the latter kills whenever he can. Both Clooney and Tarantino are fantastic as the brothers; while his status as an international movie star is now a given, DUSK was the film that proved Clooney could transition off the ER set and become a movie star. He’s electric as Seth, playing the cool customer who’s got the simmering anger waiting to explode beneath the surface.

We first see the brothers in action in a crummy roadside liquor store, operated by John Hawkes and visited by Texas Ranger Earl McGraw (Michael Parks, who also appears in Kill Bill and Planet Terror as the Ranger). The brothers are hiding in the back, keeping hostages close and mouths shut, but Richie kills McGraw with a bullet in the back of his head. Seth is furious, but Richie insists that he saw the cashier mouthing help to the Ranger. We know this is false, and Seth has to know this is false, but this is the lot he’s drawn so he ends up blowing up the liquor store before heading to Mexico.

They entered the store to get a map, and ended up in a bloodbath, which is the S.O.P. they follow for the rest of the film. They get a hotel room in order to contact their handler that guarantees a place for them in Mexico, and Richie ends up raping and killing their hostage. They kidnap Jacob and his two kids, Scott and Kate (Harvey Keitel, Ernest Liu, and Juliette Lewis) because they’ve got an RV that Seth is convinced can help get them across the border, and then when they stop at the Titty Twister bar to wait for their contact, a vampire massacre breaks out.

It’s the second half of the movie that most people remember, of course (I was a bit surprised when I watched DUSK again the other night that the Tarantino half of the movie takes an entire 45 minutes to work through), because this is where all the blood and killing and dancing Salma Hayek happens, but it’s the first-half of the movie that’s more enjoyable for me to watch. If Tarantino is remembered for only one thing when he’s done making movies, it will be his dialogue. While there’s nothing as memorable here as Pulp Fiction, or as cool as Kill Bill, or as intense as Inglorious Basterds, Tarantino knows how to play characters off of one another. When the Gecko brothers first encounter Jacob’s family, Seth wants to know what relationship Jacob and Scott have, asking, “What’s the story with you two, you a couple of fags?”

Jacob answers, “He’s my son.”

“How’s that happen? You don’t look Japanese.”

“Neither does he. He looks Chinese.”

“Well, excuse me all to hell.”

There’s a real unbalanced relationship between the five traveling companions that’s driven by Clooney and Keitel; Seth comes off as a likable guy, but one that’s never far from violence. He wants everyone to get along because he’s in a good mood, but Jacob stakes out his own ground in order to protect his kids. Seth is protective of the kids, too, knowing that Richie’s interest in Kate isn’t one of captor and hostage, but while he keeps Richie in check, he also lets Jacob know that he can unleash Richie if Jacob doesn’t do what he wants.

Juliette Lewis and Ernest Liu are good as Kate and Scott as two kids who obviously love their father but are also intrigued by Seth’s lawlessness. When Seth demands that everyone drinks with him, Scott and Kate are hesitant at first but willing to knock a few back. The scene works because Seth and Jacob, seated next to each other, are clearly battling for control. “Are you so much of a f*cking loser that you can’t tell when you’ve won,” Jacob asks. Seth flips, but Jacob is right and Seth knows it.

At the Titty Twister, the tone shifts from Tarantino’s slow burn to Rodriguez’s splatter revelry. A bunch of Rodriguez regulars make an appearance (Danny Trejo, Cheech Marin, Hayek), Tom Savini and Fred Williamson are tossed into the mix, and after a non-strip table dance from Satánico Pandemonium (Hayek), it’s all vampire killing until the end. All of the vamp splatter is good fun, as each of the participants falls in turn, until we’re left with Seth, Jacob, Kate, and Scott.

Jacob is bit and he forces his kids to promise him they’ll kill him once he starts to turn. They don’t want to do it, of course, but he insists that he won’t be their father any more, but rather, “I’ll be a lap dog of Satan.” The final run through the vamps is a good shootout that sees Jacob turn lapdog, Scott get devoured, and only Kate and Seth survive. Kate lets Seth know that she’s available to go with him, but Seth tells her no, that El Ray is too rough a town for her. “I may be a bastard, Kate,” he insists, “but I’m not a f*cking bastard. Go home.”

As Seth and Kate drive away in separate directions, the camera pulls back to reveal that the Titty Twister was located atop an old Aztec temple, hidden and buried but still very much active.

There’s nothing legendary about FROM DUSK TIL DAWN and I can see why people would get frustrated with a film like this; Tarantino and Rodriguez are so talented that it could seem a bit odd that they’d combine their talents for a splatterfest, but it’s movies like DUSK that provide such an insightful key to their more respected and beloved works. Tarantino and Rodriguez love the entertainment aspect of movies more than the literariness of movies; they’re no more right, of course, than those who favor the other side of the coin, but neither of these men are ever all that interested in the deeper questions of life, the universe, and everything. They’re more interested in people trying to get through the day and past the obstacle in front of them.

Tucked between Pulp Fiction and Jackie Brown, between Desperado and The Faculty, (forgetting the forgotten Four Rooms, in which each directed one of the four sequences) DUSK doesn’t hold a candle to the films that come around it, but it’s still an enjoyable romp.