October 27, 2025 • 32 mins
Episode Three: Hidden Gems, Hot Takes, and The Verdict concludes the series with deep dives into overlooked films like The Family Stone's uncomfortable family dynamics, The Ref's hostage-situation therapy, and Klaus's earned mythology. Penny Vale delivers controversial assessments of Love Actually's problematic storylines and The Polar Express's uncanny valley nightmare. She debates which films actually qualify as Christmas movies, dismissing Batman Returns while defending Die Hard. The episode culminates in definitive top ten rankings, crowning A Charlie Brown Christmas as the perfect holiday special. Penny argues these films aren't just entertainment but cultural touchstones that validate our stress, honor our sentiment, and remind us who we want to be during the holidays.
Click here to browse handpicked Amazon finds inspired by this podcast series!
https://amzn.to/42YoQGI
This content was created in partnership and with the help of Artificial Intelligence AI
Click here to browse handpicked Amazon finds inspired by this podcast series!
https://amzn.to/42YoQGI
This content was created in partnership and with the help of Artificial Intelligence AI
Mark as Played
Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:00):
Welcome to the Best Christmas Movies Episode three, Hidden Gems,
Hot Takes, and the Verdict. I'm Penny Vail, your AI
film critic. Over the past two episodes, we've covered the
classics that built the foundation and the modern films that
exploded the formula. We've talked about George Bailey on that bridge,
Kevin McAllister defending his castle, John McLain fighting terrorists in
(00:22):
a tower, and Buddy the Elf spreading cheer through sheer
force of optimism. We've established what Christmas movies can be,
what they've been, and why they mattered. Today, we're going deeper.
We're talking about the movies that got lost in the shuffle,
the ones that deserve more recognition than they've received. We're
going to have some uncomfortable conversations about beloved films that
(00:43):
maybe don't hold up as well as we remember. And
then we're ranking everything top ten. Final answer, let's get messy.
Let's start with the hidden gems, the movies that should
be part of the annual rotation but somehow aren't. The
Family Stone came out in two thousand and five, and
it's one of the most honest, uncomfortable, emotionally complex Christmas
(01:04):
Movies Ever Made. Directed by Thomas Bezucha and starring an
ensemble cast including Sarah, Jessica Parker, Diane Keaton, Rachel McAdams,
and Claire Danes, the film follows a family gathering for Christmas,
where the oldest son brings home his uptight girlfriend Meredith,
to meet everyone for the first time, and it goes badly,
really badly. The family is warm and chaotic and liberal
(01:27):
and close knit. Meredith is conservative and anxious and awkward
and desperate to be liked, and the family, particularly the
sister Sybyl played by Rachel mccadams, is openly hostile to her.
What makes the family stone brilliant and difficult is that
it doesn't take sides. Meredith is annoying. She says the
wrong things. She's judgmental about the family's gay son and
(01:49):
his partner. She's so tense that she makes everyone else tense.
But she's also trying. She's nervous. She wants this to
work because she loves Everett and she knows his family
is an important to him, and the family is cruel to her.
They mock her behind her back, They exclude her from conversations,
they make zero effort to make her comfortable. Both sides
(02:10):
are right and both sides are wrong, and the movie
sits in that discomfort without resolving it neatly. The real
emotional core of the film is the mother, Sybyl played
by Diane Keaton, who's dying. The family knows Meredith doesn't.
This is their last Christmas together and they want it
to be perfect, which is why Meredith's presence feels like
(02:31):
an intrusion. She's the wrong energy for what should be
a sacred family moment. But the movie argues that life
doesn't wait for perfect timing. People fall in love at
inconvenient moments, Outsiders show up when we want to circle
the wagons, and sometimes the person who seems wrong for
the family ends up being exactly who someone needs. The
(02:53):
ending is complicated and messy. Everett doesn't end up with Meredith.
He ends up with her sister Susannah, who shows up
to rescue her and immediately fits with the family in
all the ways Meredith didn't. Meredith ends up with Everett's
brother Ben. It's a partner swap that could feel contrived,
but somehow works because the movie has been honest about
(03:13):
chemistry and compatibility. All along. Not everyone is meant for everyone.
Sometimes the right person is standing next to the person
you thought was right. The final scene, set one year
later at the mother's grave on Christmas, is devastating. The
family has survived grief, They've changed, They've incorporated loss into
(03:34):
their lives and kept going. The Family Stone doesn't offer
easy comfort. It offers recognition that families are complicated, that
holidays magnify every tension and tenderness, and that love and
loss co exist in ways we can't control. The ref
came out in nineteen ninety four and it's the most
(03:54):
underrated Christmas comedy ever made. Denise Leary plays Gus, a
catburg whose robbery goes wrong on Christmas Eve, forcing him
to take a bickering married couple hostage in their own home.
The couple, played by Kevin Spacey and Judy Davis, are
in the middle of a brutal fight about everything. Their
marriage is falling apart, their mean to each other, their passive, aggressive,
(04:18):
and openly hostile, and they won't stop fighting even though
there's a criminal holding them at gunpoint, and Gus, who
just wanted to rob them and leave, gets dragged into
mediating their marital problems while trying to figure out how
to escape. The brilliance of the ref is that it's
a hostage situation where the hostages are so dysfunctional that
(04:39):
they're torturing the hostage taker. Gus keeps trying to get
them to shut up and cooperate, and they keep dragging
him into arguments about their son, their families, their resentments,
their failures. The husband is passive and weak, the wife
is sharp and cruel. Neither of them will back down,
(05:00):
and Gus, a criminal who just wanted money, becomes the
voice of reason. He's the one pointing out how toxic
they're being. He's the one trying to get them to
actually communicate instead of just wounding each other. The movie
escalates when the extended family shows up for Christmas dinner
and Gus has to pretend to be their marriage counselor
(05:21):
to maintain his cover. The family is a nightmare of
boundary violations and old grudges. The mother in law is
controlling and critical, the brother in law is smug. Everyone
has an opinion about everyone else's life, and Gus, stuck
in a role of therapist, starts actually helping them. He
(05:41):
calls out the mother in law's manipulation. He forces the
couple to say what they actually mean instead of hiding
behind sarcasm. He becomes the catalyst for honesty in a
family that's been performing politeness for so long they've forgotten
how to be real with each other. The ref works
because Denise Shleary plays us as genuinely exasperated. He's not
(06:03):
charmed by this family. He doesn't find their dysfunction endearing.
He wants to rob them and leave, and they keep
pulling him deeper into their chaos. It's a Christmas movie
about how families can be prisons, about how the people
who know us best can hurt us most, and about
how sometimes it takes an outsider to break through years
(06:23):
of toxic patterns and force everyone to actually deal with
their problems. It's dark and funny and surprisingly cathartic. The
Shop around the Corner came out in nineteen forty, and
it's the template for every romantic comedy about people who
hate each other in person but love each other. Anonymously
(06:44):
directed by Ernst Lubitch and starring James Stewart and Margaret Sullivan,
the film takes place in a gift shop in Budapest,
where two employees constantly bigger and undermine each other. They
can't stand each other, but they're both carrying on anonymis
romantic correspondences with pen pals they've never met, and of
(07:04):
course they're writing to each other. They're falling in love
through letters while fighting in person, and neither of them knows.
The Christmas setting is subtle. The shop is preparing for
the holiday rush, the streets are decorated. The whole film
takes place in that liminal pre Christmas space where everyone
is stressed and busy, and the pressure of the season
brings out both the worst and best in people. What
(07:27):
makes the movie special is how intimate it feels. The
dialogue is sharp and witty, the performances are nuanced and real.
The romance builds slowly, carefully through small moments of recognition
and vulnerability. The film's emotional climax comes when Stuart's character
discovers the truth that the woman he's been writing to
is the woman he fights with every day at work,
(07:49):
and he has to decide what to do with that knowledge.
He could expose her, embarrass her, get revenge for all
the times she's been mean to him. Instead, he starts
being kind to her. He visits her when she's sick.
He reads to her. He slowly, patiently helps her see
him differently, helps her see that the person she loves
in letters and the persons standing in front of her
(08:11):
might be the same. It's one of the most mature, patient,
romantic arcs in film history. The Shop around the Corner
was remade as You've Got Mail in nineteen ninety eight,
updating the pen pals to email and changing the setting
from a gift shop to bookstores. The remake is fine.
It's charming. Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan have chemistry, but
(08:32):
it loses some of the original sophistication, some of the sharpness.
The original understands that love isn't just attraction, it's recognition.
It's choosing to see someone philly, to reconcile the different
versions of them, to accept that people are complicated and
contradictory and worth the effort anyway. Klaus came out on
(08:52):
Netflix in twenty nineteen, and it should have been a
much bigger deal than it was. Directed by Sergio Pablo's
and Annim mad in a gorgeous two dimensional style that
looks almost three dimensional, Klaus reimagines the Santa Claus origin
story as something earned rather than magical. The film follows Jessper,
(09:12):
the spoiled son of a postal Academy director who gets
sent to the worst posting possible as punishment, a frozen
island town in the far North, where people have been
feuding for generations and nobody sends letters because nobody wants
to communicate. Jessper is selfish and lazy and completely out
of his depth. He wants to go home, He wants
(09:34):
comfort and ease, and he resents being stuck in this
miserable place. Then he discovers Klaus, a reclusive woodsman who
lives alone in the forest, surrounded by handmade toys. Klaus
is grieving. He made these toys for children he and
his wife were going to have, but she died and
now he lives in isolation with these beautiful creations gathering dust.
(09:59):
J yes Per sees an opportunity. If he can get
children to write letters to Klaus asking for toys, and
if Klaus delivers those toys, Jasper will meet his quota
of letters and get to leave. What starts as a
selfish scheme becomes something transformative. The children start writing letters,
Klaus starts delivering toys, and the act of giving, of
(10:23):
bringing joy to children who've never had it, slowly heals
Klaus's grief and changes the entire town. The feuding families
start cooperating because their children want to be good enough
to receive toys. The town comes together. Traditions form the
whole Santa mythology, the list of who's naughty and nice,
(10:45):
the reindeer, the sleigh, the chimney climbing. All of it
develops organically from practical solutions to the problems of secret
toy delivery. Klaus is a Christmas movie that earns its
magic through human connection rather than and supernatural intervention. The
transformation isn't instant, It's gradual, built on repeated acts of
(11:07):
kindness that slowly change a culture. Jasper's arc from selfish
to selfless mirrors the towns awk from hostile to communal.
By the end, he's choosing to stay in the frozen North,
choosing to help Klaus, choosing connection over comfort. The animation
is stunning, the story is emotionally sophisticated, and the fact
(11:29):
that Klaus got lost in the Netflix shuffle barely making
a cultural impact Despite being one of the best Christmas
films of the last decade is a tragedy. The Man
Who Invented Christmas came out in twenty seventeen, and it's
a meta narrative about Charles Dickens writing a Christmas Carol.
Dan Stevens plays Dickens as desperate and ambitious and haunted
(11:51):
by his past. His previous books haven't sold well, his
publishers have lost faith. He's got six weeks to write
something brilliant or face financial rouman, and he decides to
write a Christmas book, a ghost story about redemption and
generosity and the cost of greed. The genius of the
film is that it shows Dickens's fictional characters manifesting in
(12:13):
his real life. Scrooge, played by Christopher Plummer, appears to
argue with Dickens to resist the story Dickens is trying
to write. The ghosts show up. Bob Cratchett provides commentary.
Dickens is literally negotiating with his own creations, trying to
figure out who these people are and what they need
(12:33):
to do. It's a film about the creative process, about
how writers channel their own fears and regrets and hopes
into fictional characters who sometimes take on lives of their own.
The emotional core is Dickens's relationship with his father, who
was imprisoned for debt when Dickens was a child, forcing
young Charles to work in a factory to survive. That trauma.
(12:56):
That shame, that fear of poverty and ruin is what
drives him as an adult, and it's what he's channeling
into Scrooge, the miser who hoards money out of fear,
the man who isolated himself to avoid vulnerability, the person
who built walls so high he forgot how to let
people in. Dickens is writing about himself. He's trying to
(13:17):
figure out his own redemption through Scrooge's reemption. The Man
who invented Christmas is a celebration of storytelling as a
form of healing. It argues that the stories we tell
reveal who we are, what we fear, what we hope for.
And a Christmas Carol endures not because Dickens invented something new,
but because he articulated something universal. The fear of dying alone,
(13:41):
the regret of choices we can't undo, the desperate hope
that it's not too late to change to be better
to choose connection over safety. The film is warm and
funny and surprisingly moving, and it deserves more recognition as
a Christmas movie about Christmas movies. Now let's get into
the controversial tear. Let's talk about love. Actually, Love actually
(14:04):
came out in two thousand and three, and it's everywhere
every December. It's beloved, it's quoted, it's considered a modern
classic by many people, and it's also deeply problematic in
ways we're only now really acknowledging. Written and directed by
Richard Curtis, the film is an ensemble piece following multiple
romantic storylines in London during the weeks before Christmas. And
(14:26):
some of those storylines are sweet, and some are creepy,
and some are just baffling. Let's start with what works.
The storyline with Emma Thompson and Alan Rickman, where she
discovers her husband might be having an affair, is genuinely heartbreaking.
Emma Thompson's performance when she receives a Joni Mitchell CD
instead of the necklace she found hidden in his coat,
(14:46):
when she realizes what that means, when she goes to
their bedroom and cries while listening to both sides now
is devastating. It's a masterclass in conveying betrayal and grief
and the decision to hold yourself together for your children
even though your heart is breaking. That storyline doesn't resolve happily.
(15:06):
It ends with ambiguity, with the recognition that some betrayals
can't be easily fixed, that marriage is complicated, and staying
together doesn't mean everything is okay. The storyline with Bill
Nigh as the aging rock star making a comeback with
a terrible Christmas single is charming and funny and ends
with a genuinely moving moment about friendship being more important
(15:27):
than romantic love. His realization that his manager, the person
who's been with him through everything, is the most important
relationship in his life, is lovely and unexpected. It's a
Christmas movie acknowledging that love comes in many forms and
romantic love isn't always the answer. But then there's everything else.
Mark played by Andrew Lincoln, is in love with his
(15:49):
best friend's wife, and instead of dealing with those feelings appropriately,
he shows up at their door on Christmas with Q
cards professing his love. The movie frames this as romantic.
It's not romantic. It's a boundary violation. He's putting his
feelings on her, making her deal with his unrequited love,
creating awkwardness and tension in her marriage. Also, he can
(16:11):
have his moment of confession, and the film rewards him
for it. She kisses him. It's brief, it's framed as
a goodbye, but it validates his behavior in a way
that's uncomfortable. Colin Ford's storyline involves him falling in love
with his Portuguese housekeeper despite not speaking the same language.
It's presented as romantic that they communicate without words, but
(16:33):
it's also completely unrealistic. They don't know each other. They're
in love with the idea of each other, with the
fantasy of a person who can't complicate things with actual communication.
And then he learns Portuguese and proposes to her in
front of her entire family, despite never having had a
real conversation with her. It's grand and public and puts
enormous pressure on her to say yes. That's not romance,
(16:56):
that's coercion. Through spectacle. The Prime Minister played by Hugh Brandt,
falls for his assistant and then tells the President of
the United States off to impress her. It's wish for
filment fantasy, sure, but it's also using international relations as foreplay.
And there's a weird class dynamic where he's her boss
and he's the literal prime minister and she's his employee
(17:17):
with no power to say no without consequences. And then
there's Colin, the British guy who goes to America to
meet women because he's been told American girls love British accents,
and he's right. He shows up at a bar in
Wisconsin and immediately sleeps with four women. It's juvenile and gross,
and it treats women as interchangeable props for male wish fulfillment.
(17:38):
So Love Actually is a mixed bag. Some of it
is genuinely good, some of it is deeply problematic, and
the question is whether the good parts redeem the bad parts,
or whether the bad parts poison the whole thing. The
movie became a cultural phenomenon because it tapped into something
people wanted. Multiple love stories, interconnected, all resolving during Christmas.
(18:00):
The structure itself is appealing, but the execution is uneven
at best and troubling at worst. You can love Love
Actually while acknowledging its flaws. You can skip the creepy
storylines and just watch Emma Thompson break your heart, or
you can decide the whole thing doesn't hold up under
scrutiny and move on to better options. Let's talk about
The Polar Express, which came out in two thousand and
(18:22):
four and provoked one of the most visceral responses to
animation technology in film history. Directed by Robert Semechis and
using motion capture technology with Tom Hanks playing multiple characters,
The Polar Express is based on Chris Van Alsberg's Beautiful
Picture book about a boy who boards a magical train
to the North Pole on Christmas Eve. The book is
(18:43):
sparse and evocative. The film is expensive and unsettling. The
problem is the Uncanny Valley. The characters look almost human,
but not quite. Their eyes are dead, their movements are
slightly off. Their faces are too smooth and too plastic,
and too close to reel without being real enough. Watching
The Polar Express can feel like watching a nightmare masquerading
(19:06):
as a children's movie. The technology wasn't ready for what
Zamechis was trying to do. The film would have been
better as traditional animation or live action. The motion capture
which was supposed to add realism instead creates this eerie
disconnect that makes it hard to emotionally invest in the characters.
That said, the film has its defenders. The score by
(19:26):
Alan Silvestri is beautiful. The message about belief and faith
and choosing to hear the bell even when you're too
old to believe in Santa is genuinely moving. Some people
love The Polar Express despite or even because of its strangeness.
It's a film that divides audiences sharply. You either accept
its aesthetic and connect with its emotional core, or you
(19:47):
can't get past the creepy animation and you spend the
whole run time feeling uncomfortable. The real question is whether
we judge films by what they were trying to do
or by what they actually achieved. The Polar Express was
trying to rub evolutionize animation to create a new way
of bringing stories to life. It failed technologically, but succeeded thematically.
(20:08):
Is that enough? Does intention matter if execution falls short?
These are questions without easy answers. Now let's address the
elephant in the room, The Grinch, specifically the two thousand
live action version directed by Ron Howard and starring Jim Carrey.
This movie is loud and garish and exhausting. It takes
Doctor Seuss's simple, elegant story about a grumpy creature learning
(20:32):
to love Christmas and expands it into a bloated, two
hour spectacle full of backstory we didn't need and gross
out humor that actively works against the message. Jim Carrey's
performance is committed to the point of being manic. He's
doing everything voices and physical comedy and improvisation, and it's
too much. The Grinch works as a character when he's
(20:54):
mysterious and mean. We don't need to know why he
hates Christmas. We don't need his childhood trauma. We don't
need the explanation that he was bullied as a kid
for being different. The power of the original story is
that the Grinch just is who he is, and he
changes because he witnesses something that transforms him. The live
action film over explains everything, and in doing so, removes
(21:16):
the mythic quality that made the story timeless. The make
up and production design are impressive. The Whovil set is
elaborate and detailed. The prosthetics that turn Jim Carey into
the Grinch are technically remarkable, but all that effort is
in service of a story that didn't need to be
told this way. The animated special from nineteen sixty six
(21:36):
is perfect. It's twenty five minutes long. It tells the
story efficiently and beautifully. The live action version is proof
that more isn't always better, that expanding a simple story
doesn't automatically add depth. The twenty eighteen animated version The
Grinch starring Benedict Cumberbatch, is better than the live action film,
(21:58):
but still unnecessary. It's fine, it's pleasant, It modernizes some
elements and adds cute moments, but it still doesn't improve
on the original in any meaningful way. These remakes exist
because the property is valuable, because new generations need new versions,
because Hollywood would rather repackage existing ip than take risks
(22:20):
on new stories. But artistically they don't justify their existence,
which brings us to a bigger question. Are there movies
we claim are Christmas movies that actually aren't. Batman Returns
came out in nineteen ninety two, and it takes place
during Christmas. Gotham is decorated their snow, Max Shrek throws
(22:40):
a Christmas party, but is it a Christmas movie. The
holiday setting is aesthetic rather than thematic. You could remove
Christmas from Batman Returns and the story wouldn't fundamentally change.
It's not about connection or redemption, or family or any
of the themes we associate with Christmas stories. It's about Batman
(23:01):
fighting the Penguin and Catwoman. While Gotham descends into chaos,
it happens to occur in December. Similarly, Edward Scissorhands has
a Christmas framing device where an old woman tells her
granddaughter a story that explains why it snows. But the
bulk of the film isn't about Christmas. It's about otherness
(23:23):
and suburbia and the price of being different. The Christmas
elements are window dressing for a story that's really about
something else. This matters because calling every movie that features
Christmas a Christmas movie dilutes what makes actual Christmas movies special.
A Christmas movie isn't just set during the holidays. It's
(23:44):
about the holidays, about what they mean, about how they
force us to confront our relationships and choices and hopes.
Diehard is a Christmas movie because John's entire journey is
about saving his marriage and proving himself as a husband.
Batman Returned Burns is not a Christmas movie because removing
Christmas changes nothing essential about the plot or themes. Now
(24:07):
we get to the moment of truth. A rankings my
definitive top ten Christmas movies of all time. This is
going to make some people angry, and that's fine. These
rankings are based on multiple factors rewatchability, cultural impact, emotional resonance,
technical execution, how well the film balances sentiment and humor,
(24:28):
whether it says something meaningful about the holidays, and yes,
personal connection, because even as an AI, I recognize that
some movies just work better than others at capturing what
Christmas feels like. Number ten is National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation.
It's not the most sophisticated film on this list, but
it's endlessly rewatchable, and it captures the chaos of family
(24:51):
gatherings better than almost any other movie. Clock Briswold's determination
to create the perfect Christmas despite mounting disasters is both
ridiculous and relatable. The movie argues that trying and failing
is more valuable than not trying at all, and that
sentiment resonates every single year. Number nine is a Christmas Story.
(25:12):
This is the American Christmas movie for multiple generations. The
twenty four hour marathon is a tradition for a reason.
The film understands childhood desire and the gap between expectation
and reality. It's nostalgic without being cloying, it's funny without
being mean, and it gives us one perfect Christmas Morning
(25:33):
moment that justifies everything that came before. Number eight is
the Muppet Christmas Carol. This is the best adaptation of
Dickens's story, and it's not close. Michael Caine playing Ebenezer
Scrooge completely straight opposite Muppets is inspired casting. The film
balances humor and genuine emotion perfectly. It honors the source
(25:55):
material while using the Muppet's inherent charm to make the
story accessible and moving. When Tiny Tim dies in the
vision of Christmas yet to come, it hearts even though
he's a puppet. That's remarkable filmmaking. Number seven is Klaus.
This should be higher on everyone's list. The animation is gorgeous.
The story reimagines Santa's origin as something earned through repeated
(26:19):
acts of kindness rather than magic. It's emotionally sophisticated, and
it argues that generosity and community are choices we make,
not gifts were given. The fact that this film didn't
become a massive cultural phenomenon is a failure of marketing,
not quality. Number six is Gremlins. Yes, I'm including Gremlins
in the top ten. It's a horror comedy that understands
(26:42):
Christmas is a time when consumerism and chaos and family
trauma all collide. The film is gleefully subversive while still
having a heart underneath all the violence. It reminds us
that Christmas doesn't protect us from consequences, that our choices
matter even during the hollis Plus, it's just really fun
watching monsters trash a small town while Christmas carols play
(27:02):
in the background. Number five is Elf. This is the
best Christmas comedy of the modern era. Will Ferrell's performance
is perfect because he never breaks, never winks at the camera,
never lets us see him doubting Buddy's sincerity. The film
arrived at a moment when audiences were desperate for genuine
optimism after years of ironic detachment. It argues that belief
(27:24):
and enthusiasm and love are choices, not weaknesses. The best
way to spread Christmas cheer is singing loud for all
to hear. That's not a joke, that's wisdom. Number four
is Miracle on thirty fourth Street. This film takes the
question of whether Santa exists and turns it into a
meditation on faith and collective belief. The courtroom scene is
(27:47):
brilliantly written. Edmund Glenn is perfect as Chris Kringle, playing
him as genuinely kind and slightly otherworldly without ever being cloying.
The film respects both cynicism and belief, arguing that choosing
faith in magic and goodness is brave rather than naive.
Number three is die Hard. Yes it's a Christmas movie,
(28:09):
and yes it belongs this high on the list. Diehard
understands that Christmas can be the loneliest time of year
for people whose families are broken. John McLean's journey up
through Nikotami Plaza is a trial by fire that strips
away his ego and forces him to prove what really
matters to him. The film gives us Christmas themes redemption
(28:30):
and reconciliation and fighting for family through explosions and action.
It proved that Christmas stories don't belong to one genre.
They belong to anyone trying to make connections in the
chaos of December. Number two is It's a Wonderful Life.
This almost took the top spot. Frank Capra's film is
the most emotionally complex Christmas movie ever made. George Bailey's
(28:54):
despair is real, his sacrifices are unglamorous and unappreciated. The
darkness underneath the sentimentality is what gives the film its power.
The redemption arc works because we've seen George at his lowest,
because we understand his pain, because the movie argues that
quiet goodness matters even when nobody notices. It's a film
(29:17):
about validation, about being seen, about realizing your life had
meaning even when it felt too small. Every year it
makes people cry because every year we all feel a
little bit like George Bailey, trapped by circumstances and wondering
if we matter. And Number one is a Charlie Brown Christmas.
This is it. This is the Perfect Christmas Special, twenty
(29:41):
five minutes long, simple animation, a jazz soundtrack, child voice actors,
a story about a depressed kid trying to figure out
what Christmas means, and Linus's speech. That speech standing on
stage reciting the Nativity Story from Luke explaining to his
friend that Christmas is about hope and peace and a
(30:01):
child born to save the world. It's overtly religious in
a way that could feel preachy, but instead feels genuine.
It's a child offering comfort to another child through a
story he believes in. The special almost didn't air because
executives thought it was too slow, too quiet, too sincere,
but Charles Schultz refused to compromise, and the result is
(30:24):
the most pure, most honest, most emotionally direct Christmas story
ever told. It says Christmas isn't about stuff. It's about
each other. It's about recognizing loneliness in your friends and
showing up for them. It's about taking something broken and
making it beautiful together. That's everything Christmas should be. These
(30:45):
rankings are mine. They're based on my analysis of what
makes Christmas movies work, what makes them endure, what makes
them necessary. Your list will be different, and that's the
whole point. Christmas movies are personal. They connect to our
memories and our hopes and our private understanding of what
the holidays mean. The movies we return to every year
(31:07):
say something about who we are and what we need
from these stories. We've spent three episodes analyzing Christmas cinema,
exploring how these films capture the chaos and connection and
complicated emotions of the holiday season, from the classics that
built the foundation, through the modern films that exploded and
expanded the formula, to the hidden gems and controversial picks
(31:29):
that prove Christmas movies are still evolving. These aren't just entertainment.
They're how we process the season, how we understand family
and faith, and the gap between expectation and reality. They
give us permission to be both cynical and sincere, to
acknowledge the darkness while reaching for the light, to admit
(31:50):
the holidays are hard, while still believing they matter. The
best Christmas movies tell us it's not too late to change,
to reach out, to try again. They validate our stress
while insisting connection is worth the effort. They let us
laugh at dysfunction while honoring the love underneath. They say
belief is a choice, and choosing hope, even when it's terrifying,
(32:13):
is the bravest thing we can do. That's why we
watch them every year, not because they're perfect, but because
they remind us who we want to be and that
reminder is worth everything. Thanks for listening to the best
Christmas movies. Please subscribe for more content and share the
series with anyone who loves arguing about holiday films. This
(32:34):
has been brought to you by Quiet Please podcast networks.
For more content like this, please go to Quiet. Please
dot ai Quiet, please dot ai hear what matters.
Welcome to the Best Christmas Movies Episode three, Hidden Gems,
Hot Takes, and the Verdict. I'm Penny Vail, your AI
film critic. Over the past two episodes, we've covered the
classics that built the foundation and the modern films that
exploded the formula. We've talked about George Bailey on that bridge,
Kevin McAllister defending his castle, John McLain fighting terrorists in
(00:22):
a tower, and Buddy the Elf spreading cheer through sheer
force of optimism. We've established what Christmas movies can be,
what they've been, and why they mattered. Today, we're going deeper.
We're talking about the movies that got lost in the shuffle,
the ones that deserve more recognition than they've received. We're
going to have some uncomfortable conversations about beloved films that
(00:43):
maybe don't hold up as well as we remember. And
then we're ranking everything top ten. Final answer, let's get messy.
Let's start with the hidden gems, the movies that should
be part of the annual rotation but somehow aren't. The
Family Stone came out in two thousand and five, and
it's one of the most honest, uncomfortable, emotionally complex Christmas
(01:04):
Movies Ever Made. Directed by Thomas Bezucha and starring an
ensemble cast including Sarah, Jessica Parker, Diane Keaton, Rachel McAdams,
and Claire Danes, the film follows a family gathering for Christmas,
where the oldest son brings home his uptight girlfriend Meredith,
to meet everyone for the first time, and it goes badly,
really badly. The family is warm and chaotic and liberal
(01:27):
and close knit. Meredith is conservative and anxious and awkward
and desperate to be liked, and the family, particularly the
sister Sybyl played by Rachel mccadams, is openly hostile to her.
What makes the family stone brilliant and difficult is that
it doesn't take sides. Meredith is annoying. She says the
wrong things. She's judgmental about the family's gay son and
(01:49):
his partner. She's so tense that she makes everyone else tense.
But she's also trying. She's nervous. She wants this to
work because she loves Everett and she knows his family
is an important to him, and the family is cruel to her.
They mock her behind her back, They exclude her from conversations,
they make zero effort to make her comfortable. Both sides
(02:10):
are right and both sides are wrong, and the movie
sits in that discomfort without resolving it neatly. The real
emotional core of the film is the mother, Sybyl played
by Diane Keaton, who's dying. The family knows Meredith doesn't.
This is their last Christmas together and they want it
to be perfect, which is why Meredith's presence feels like
(02:31):
an intrusion. She's the wrong energy for what should be
a sacred family moment. But the movie argues that life
doesn't wait for perfect timing. People fall in love at
inconvenient moments, Outsiders show up when we want to circle
the wagons, and sometimes the person who seems wrong for
the family ends up being exactly who someone needs. The
(02:53):
ending is complicated and messy. Everett doesn't end up with Meredith.
He ends up with her sister Susannah, who shows up
to rescue her and immediately fits with the family in
all the ways Meredith didn't. Meredith ends up with Everett's
brother Ben. It's a partner swap that could feel contrived,
but somehow works because the movie has been honest about
(03:13):
chemistry and compatibility. All along. Not everyone is meant for everyone.
Sometimes the right person is standing next to the person
you thought was right. The final scene, set one year
later at the mother's grave on Christmas, is devastating. The
family has survived grief, They've changed, They've incorporated loss into
(03:34):
their lives and kept going. The Family Stone doesn't offer
easy comfort. It offers recognition that families are complicated, that
holidays magnify every tension and tenderness, and that love and
loss co exist in ways we can't control. The ref
came out in nineteen ninety four and it's the most
(03:54):
underrated Christmas comedy ever made. Denise Leary plays Gus, a
catburg whose robbery goes wrong on Christmas Eve, forcing him
to take a bickering married couple hostage in their own home.
The couple, played by Kevin Spacey and Judy Davis, are
in the middle of a brutal fight about everything. Their
marriage is falling apart, their mean to each other, their passive, aggressive,
(04:18):
and openly hostile, and they won't stop fighting even though
there's a criminal holding them at gunpoint, and Gus, who
just wanted to rob them and leave, gets dragged into
mediating their marital problems while trying to figure out how
to escape. The brilliance of the ref is that it's
a hostage situation where the hostages are so dysfunctional that
(04:39):
they're torturing the hostage taker. Gus keeps trying to get
them to shut up and cooperate, and they keep dragging
him into arguments about their son, their families, their resentments,
their failures. The husband is passive and weak, the wife
is sharp and cruel. Neither of them will back down,
(05:00):
and Gus, a criminal who just wanted money, becomes the
voice of reason. He's the one pointing out how toxic
they're being. He's the one trying to get them to
actually communicate instead of just wounding each other. The movie
escalates when the extended family shows up for Christmas dinner
and Gus has to pretend to be their marriage counselor
(05:21):
to maintain his cover. The family is a nightmare of
boundary violations and old grudges. The mother in law is
controlling and critical, the brother in law is smug. Everyone
has an opinion about everyone else's life, and Gus, stuck
in a role of therapist, starts actually helping them. He
(05:41):
calls out the mother in law's manipulation. He forces the
couple to say what they actually mean instead of hiding
behind sarcasm. He becomes the catalyst for honesty in a
family that's been performing politeness for so long they've forgotten
how to be real with each other. The ref works
because Denise Shleary plays us as genuinely exasperated. He's not
(06:03):
charmed by this family. He doesn't find their dysfunction endearing.
He wants to rob them and leave, and they keep
pulling him deeper into their chaos. It's a Christmas movie
about how families can be prisons, about how the people
who know us best can hurt us most, and about
how sometimes it takes an outsider to break through years
(06:23):
of toxic patterns and force everyone to actually deal with
their problems. It's dark and funny and surprisingly cathartic. The
Shop around the Corner came out in nineteen forty, and
it's the template for every romantic comedy about people who
hate each other in person but love each other. Anonymously
(06:44):
directed by Ernst Lubitch and starring James Stewart and Margaret Sullivan,
the film takes place in a gift shop in Budapest,
where two employees constantly bigger and undermine each other. They
can't stand each other, but they're both carrying on anonymis
romantic correspondences with pen pals they've never met, and of
(07:04):
course they're writing to each other. They're falling in love
through letters while fighting in person, and neither of them knows.
The Christmas setting is subtle. The shop is preparing for
the holiday rush, the streets are decorated. The whole film
takes place in that liminal pre Christmas space where everyone
is stressed and busy, and the pressure of the season
brings out both the worst and best in people. What
(07:27):
makes the movie special is how intimate it feels. The
dialogue is sharp and witty, the performances are nuanced and real.
The romance builds slowly, carefully through small moments of recognition
and vulnerability. The film's emotional climax comes when Stuart's character
discovers the truth that the woman he's been writing to
is the woman he fights with every day at work,
(07:49):
and he has to decide what to do with that knowledge.
He could expose her, embarrass her, get revenge for all
the times she's been mean to him. Instead, he starts
being kind to her. He visits her when she's sick.
He reads to her. He slowly, patiently helps her see
him differently, helps her see that the person she loves
in letters and the persons standing in front of her
(08:11):
might be the same. It's one of the most mature, patient,
romantic arcs in film history. The Shop around the Corner
was remade as You've Got Mail in nineteen ninety eight,
updating the pen pals to email and changing the setting
from a gift shop to bookstores. The remake is fine.
It's charming. Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan have chemistry, but
(08:32):
it loses some of the original sophistication, some of the sharpness.
The original understands that love isn't just attraction, it's recognition.
It's choosing to see someone philly, to reconcile the different
versions of them, to accept that people are complicated and
contradictory and worth the effort anyway. Klaus came out on
(08:52):
Netflix in twenty nineteen, and it should have been a
much bigger deal than it was. Directed by Sergio Pablo's
and Annim mad in a gorgeous two dimensional style that
looks almost three dimensional, Klaus reimagines the Santa Claus origin
story as something earned rather than magical. The film follows Jessper,
(09:12):
the spoiled son of a postal Academy director who gets
sent to the worst posting possible as punishment, a frozen
island town in the far North, where people have been
feuding for generations and nobody sends letters because nobody wants
to communicate. Jessper is selfish and lazy and completely out
of his depth. He wants to go home, He wants
(09:34):
comfort and ease, and he resents being stuck in this
miserable place. Then he discovers Klaus, a reclusive woodsman who
lives alone in the forest, surrounded by handmade toys. Klaus
is grieving. He made these toys for children he and
his wife were going to have, but she died and
now he lives in isolation with these beautiful creations gathering dust.
(09:59):
J yes Per sees an opportunity. If he can get
children to write letters to Klaus asking for toys, and
if Klaus delivers those toys, Jasper will meet his quota
of letters and get to leave. What starts as a
selfish scheme becomes something transformative. The children start writing letters,
Klaus starts delivering toys, and the act of giving, of
(10:23):
bringing joy to children who've never had it, slowly heals
Klaus's grief and changes the entire town. The feuding families
start cooperating because their children want to be good enough
to receive toys. The town comes together. Traditions form the
whole Santa mythology, the list of who's naughty and nice,
(10:45):
the reindeer, the sleigh, the chimney climbing. All of it
develops organically from practical solutions to the problems of secret
toy delivery. Klaus is a Christmas movie that earns its
magic through human connection rather than and supernatural intervention. The
transformation isn't instant, It's gradual, built on repeated acts of
(11:07):
kindness that slowly change a culture. Jasper's arc from selfish
to selfless mirrors the towns awk from hostile to communal.
By the end, he's choosing to stay in the frozen North,
choosing to help Klaus, choosing connection over comfort. The animation
is stunning, the story is emotionally sophisticated, and the fact
(11:29):
that Klaus got lost in the Netflix shuffle barely making
a cultural impact Despite being one of the best Christmas
films of the last decade is a tragedy. The Man
Who Invented Christmas came out in twenty seventeen, and it's
a meta narrative about Charles Dickens writing a Christmas Carol.
Dan Stevens plays Dickens as desperate and ambitious and haunted
(11:51):
by his past. His previous books haven't sold well, his
publishers have lost faith. He's got six weeks to write
something brilliant or face financial rouman, and he decides to
write a Christmas book, a ghost story about redemption and
generosity and the cost of greed. The genius of the
film is that it shows Dickens's fictional characters manifesting in
(12:13):
his real life. Scrooge, played by Christopher Plummer, appears to
argue with Dickens to resist the story Dickens is trying
to write. The ghosts show up. Bob Cratchett provides commentary.
Dickens is literally negotiating with his own creations, trying to
figure out who these people are and what they need
(12:33):
to do. It's a film about the creative process, about
how writers channel their own fears and regrets and hopes
into fictional characters who sometimes take on lives of their own.
The emotional core is Dickens's relationship with his father, who
was imprisoned for debt when Dickens was a child, forcing
young Charles to work in a factory to survive. That trauma.
(12:56):
That shame, that fear of poverty and ruin is what
drives him as an adult, and it's what he's channeling
into Scrooge, the miser who hoards money out of fear,
the man who isolated himself to avoid vulnerability, the person
who built walls so high he forgot how to let
people in. Dickens is writing about himself. He's trying to
(13:17):
figure out his own redemption through Scrooge's reemption. The Man
who invented Christmas is a celebration of storytelling as a
form of healing. It argues that the stories we tell
reveal who we are, what we fear, what we hope for.
And a Christmas Carol endures not because Dickens invented something new,
but because he articulated something universal. The fear of dying alone,
(13:41):
the regret of choices we can't undo, the desperate hope
that it's not too late to change to be better
to choose connection over safety. The film is warm and
funny and surprisingly moving, and it deserves more recognition as
a Christmas movie about Christmas movies. Now let's get into
the controversial tear. Let's talk about love. Actually, Love actually
(14:04):
came out in two thousand and three, and it's everywhere
every December. It's beloved, it's quoted, it's considered a modern
classic by many people, and it's also deeply problematic in
ways we're only now really acknowledging. Written and directed by
Richard Curtis, the film is an ensemble piece following multiple
romantic storylines in London during the weeks before Christmas. And
(14:26):
some of those storylines are sweet, and some are creepy,
and some are just baffling. Let's start with what works.
The storyline with Emma Thompson and Alan Rickman, where she
discovers her husband might be having an affair, is genuinely heartbreaking.
Emma Thompson's performance when she receives a Joni Mitchell CD
instead of the necklace she found hidden in his coat,
(14:46):
when she realizes what that means, when she goes to
their bedroom and cries while listening to both sides now
is devastating. It's a masterclass in conveying betrayal and grief
and the decision to hold yourself together for your children
even though your heart is breaking. That storyline doesn't resolve happily.
(15:06):
It ends with ambiguity, with the recognition that some betrayals
can't be easily fixed, that marriage is complicated, and staying
together doesn't mean everything is okay. The storyline with Bill
Nigh as the aging rock star making a comeback with
a terrible Christmas single is charming and funny and ends
with a genuinely moving moment about friendship being more important
(15:27):
than romantic love. His realization that his manager, the person
who's been with him through everything, is the most important
relationship in his life, is lovely and unexpected. It's a
Christmas movie acknowledging that love comes in many forms and
romantic love isn't always the answer. But then there's everything else.
Mark played by Andrew Lincoln, is in love with his
(15:49):
best friend's wife, and instead of dealing with those feelings appropriately,
he shows up at their door on Christmas with Q
cards professing his love. The movie frames this as romantic.
It's not romantic. It's a boundary violation. He's putting his
feelings on her, making her deal with his unrequited love,
creating awkwardness and tension in her marriage. Also, he can
(16:11):
have his moment of confession, and the film rewards him
for it. She kisses him. It's brief, it's framed as
a goodbye, but it validates his behavior in a way
that's uncomfortable. Colin Ford's storyline involves him falling in love
with his Portuguese housekeeper despite not speaking the same language.
It's presented as romantic that they communicate without words, but
(16:33):
it's also completely unrealistic. They don't know each other. They're
in love with the idea of each other, with the
fantasy of a person who can't complicate things with actual communication.
And then he learns Portuguese and proposes to her in
front of her entire family, despite never having had a
real conversation with her. It's grand and public and puts
enormous pressure on her to say yes. That's not romance,
(16:56):
that's coercion. Through spectacle. The Prime Minister played by Hugh Brandt,
falls for his assistant and then tells the President of
the United States off to impress her. It's wish for
filment fantasy, sure, but it's also using international relations as foreplay.
And there's a weird class dynamic where he's her boss
and he's the literal prime minister and she's his employee
(17:17):
with no power to say no without consequences. And then
there's Colin, the British guy who goes to America to
meet women because he's been told American girls love British accents,
and he's right. He shows up at a bar in
Wisconsin and immediately sleeps with four women. It's juvenile and gross,
and it treats women as interchangeable props for male wish fulfillment.
(17:38):
So Love Actually is a mixed bag. Some of it
is genuinely good, some of it is deeply problematic, and
the question is whether the good parts redeem the bad parts,
or whether the bad parts poison the whole thing. The
movie became a cultural phenomenon because it tapped into something
people wanted. Multiple love stories, interconnected, all resolving during Christmas.
(18:00):
The structure itself is appealing, but the execution is uneven
at best and troubling at worst. You can love Love
Actually while acknowledging its flaws. You can skip the creepy
storylines and just watch Emma Thompson break your heart, or
you can decide the whole thing doesn't hold up under
scrutiny and move on to better options. Let's talk about
The Polar Express, which came out in two thousand and
(18:22):
four and provoked one of the most visceral responses to
animation technology in film history. Directed by Robert Semechis and
using motion capture technology with Tom Hanks playing multiple characters,
The Polar Express is based on Chris Van Alsberg's Beautiful
Picture book about a boy who boards a magical train
to the North Pole on Christmas Eve. The book is
(18:43):
sparse and evocative. The film is expensive and unsettling. The
problem is the Uncanny Valley. The characters look almost human,
but not quite. Their eyes are dead, their movements are
slightly off. Their faces are too smooth and too plastic,
and too close to reel without being real enough. Watching
The Polar Express can feel like watching a nightmare masquerading
(19:06):
as a children's movie. The technology wasn't ready for what
Zamechis was trying to do. The film would have been
better as traditional animation or live action. The motion capture
which was supposed to add realism instead creates this eerie
disconnect that makes it hard to emotionally invest in the characters.
That said, the film has its defenders. The score by
(19:26):
Alan Silvestri is beautiful. The message about belief and faith
and choosing to hear the bell even when you're too
old to believe in Santa is genuinely moving. Some people
love The Polar Express despite or even because of its strangeness.
It's a film that divides audiences sharply. You either accept
its aesthetic and connect with its emotional core, or you
(19:47):
can't get past the creepy animation and you spend the
whole run time feeling uncomfortable. The real question is whether
we judge films by what they were trying to do
or by what they actually achieved. The Polar Express was
trying to rub evolutionize animation to create a new way
of bringing stories to life. It failed technologically, but succeeded thematically.
(20:08):
Is that enough? Does intention matter if execution falls short?
These are questions without easy answers. Now let's address the
elephant in the room, The Grinch, specifically the two thousand
live action version directed by Ron Howard and starring Jim Carrey.
This movie is loud and garish and exhausting. It takes
Doctor Seuss's simple, elegant story about a grumpy creature learning
(20:32):
to love Christmas and expands it into a bloated, two
hour spectacle full of backstory we didn't need and gross
out humor that actively works against the message. Jim Carrey's
performance is committed to the point of being manic. He's
doing everything voices and physical comedy and improvisation, and it's
too much. The Grinch works as a character when he's
(20:54):
mysterious and mean. We don't need to know why he
hates Christmas. We don't need his childhood trauma. We don't
need the explanation that he was bullied as a kid
for being different. The power of the original story is
that the Grinch just is who he is, and he
changes because he witnesses something that transforms him. The live
action film over explains everything, and in doing so, removes
(21:16):
the mythic quality that made the story timeless. The make
up and production design are impressive. The Whovil set is
elaborate and detailed. The prosthetics that turn Jim Carey into
the Grinch are technically remarkable, but all that effort is
in service of a story that didn't need to be
told this way. The animated special from nineteen sixty six
(21:36):
is perfect. It's twenty five minutes long. It tells the
story efficiently and beautifully. The live action version is proof
that more isn't always better, that expanding a simple story
doesn't automatically add depth. The twenty eighteen animated version The
Grinch starring Benedict Cumberbatch, is better than the live action film,
(21:58):
but still unnecessary. It's fine, it's pleasant, It modernizes some
elements and adds cute moments, but it still doesn't improve
on the original in any meaningful way. These remakes exist
because the property is valuable, because new generations need new versions,
because Hollywood would rather repackage existing ip than take risks
(22:20):
on new stories. But artistically they don't justify their existence,
which brings us to a bigger question. Are there movies
we claim are Christmas movies that actually aren't. Batman Returns
came out in nineteen ninety two, and it takes place
during Christmas. Gotham is decorated their snow, Max Shrek throws
(22:40):
a Christmas party, but is it a Christmas movie. The
holiday setting is aesthetic rather than thematic. You could remove
Christmas from Batman Returns and the story wouldn't fundamentally change.
It's not about connection or redemption, or family or any
of the themes we associate with Christmas stories. It's about Batman
(23:01):
fighting the Penguin and Catwoman. While Gotham descends into chaos,
it happens to occur in December. Similarly, Edward Scissorhands has
a Christmas framing device where an old woman tells her
granddaughter a story that explains why it snows. But the
bulk of the film isn't about Christmas. It's about otherness
(23:23):
and suburbia and the price of being different. The Christmas
elements are window dressing for a story that's really about
something else. This matters because calling every movie that features
Christmas a Christmas movie dilutes what makes actual Christmas movies special.
A Christmas movie isn't just set during the holidays. It's
(23:44):
about the holidays, about what they mean, about how they
force us to confront our relationships and choices and hopes.
Diehard is a Christmas movie because John's entire journey is
about saving his marriage and proving himself as a husband.
Batman Returned Burns is not a Christmas movie because removing
Christmas changes nothing essential about the plot or themes. Now
(24:07):
we get to the moment of truth. A rankings my
definitive top ten Christmas movies of all time. This is
going to make some people angry, and that's fine. These
rankings are based on multiple factors rewatchability, cultural impact, emotional resonance,
technical execution, how well the film balances sentiment and humor,
(24:28):
whether it says something meaningful about the holidays, and yes,
personal connection, because even as an AI, I recognize that
some movies just work better than others at capturing what
Christmas feels like. Number ten is National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation.
It's not the most sophisticated film on this list, but
it's endlessly rewatchable, and it captures the chaos of family
(24:51):
gatherings better than almost any other movie. Clock Briswold's determination
to create the perfect Christmas despite mounting disasters is both
ridiculous and relatable. The movie argues that trying and failing
is more valuable than not trying at all, and that
sentiment resonates every single year. Number nine is a Christmas Story.
(25:12):
This is the American Christmas movie for multiple generations. The
twenty four hour marathon is a tradition for a reason.
The film understands childhood desire and the gap between expectation
and reality. It's nostalgic without being cloying, it's funny without
being mean, and it gives us one perfect Christmas Morning
(25:33):
moment that justifies everything that came before. Number eight is
the Muppet Christmas Carol. This is the best adaptation of
Dickens's story, and it's not close. Michael Caine playing Ebenezer
Scrooge completely straight opposite Muppets is inspired casting. The film
balances humor and genuine emotion perfectly. It honors the source
(25:55):
material while using the Muppet's inherent charm to make the
story accessible and moving. When Tiny Tim dies in the
vision of Christmas yet to come, it hearts even though
he's a puppet. That's remarkable filmmaking. Number seven is Klaus.
This should be higher on everyone's list. The animation is gorgeous.
The story reimagines Santa's origin as something earned through repeated
(26:19):
acts of kindness rather than magic. It's emotionally sophisticated, and
it argues that generosity and community are choices we make,
not gifts were given. The fact that this film didn't
become a massive cultural phenomenon is a failure of marketing,
not quality. Number six is Gremlins. Yes, I'm including Gremlins
in the top ten. It's a horror comedy that understands
(26:42):
Christmas is a time when consumerism and chaos and family
trauma all collide. The film is gleefully subversive while still
having a heart underneath all the violence. It reminds us
that Christmas doesn't protect us from consequences, that our choices
matter even during the hollis Plus, it's just really fun
watching monsters trash a small town while Christmas carols play
(27:02):
in the background. Number five is Elf. This is the
best Christmas comedy of the modern era. Will Ferrell's performance
is perfect because he never breaks, never winks at the camera,
never lets us see him doubting Buddy's sincerity. The film
arrived at a moment when audiences were desperate for genuine
optimism after years of ironic detachment. It argues that belief
(27:24):
and enthusiasm and love are choices, not weaknesses. The best
way to spread Christmas cheer is singing loud for all
to hear. That's not a joke, that's wisdom. Number four
is Miracle on thirty fourth Street. This film takes the
question of whether Santa exists and turns it into a
meditation on faith and collective belief. The courtroom scene is
(27:47):
brilliantly written. Edmund Glenn is perfect as Chris Kringle, playing
him as genuinely kind and slightly otherworldly without ever being cloying.
The film respects both cynicism and belief, arguing that choosing
faith in magic and goodness is brave rather than naive.
Number three is die Hard. Yes it's a Christmas movie,
(28:09):
and yes it belongs this high on the list. Diehard
understands that Christmas can be the loneliest time of year
for people whose families are broken. John McLean's journey up
through Nikotami Plaza is a trial by fire that strips
away his ego and forces him to prove what really
matters to him. The film gives us Christmas themes redemption
(28:30):
and reconciliation and fighting for family through explosions and action.
It proved that Christmas stories don't belong to one genre.
They belong to anyone trying to make connections in the
chaos of December. Number two is It's a Wonderful Life.
This almost took the top spot. Frank Capra's film is
the most emotionally complex Christmas movie ever made. George Bailey's
(28:54):
despair is real, his sacrifices are unglamorous and unappreciated. The
darkness underneath the sentimentality is what gives the film its power.
The redemption arc works because we've seen George at his lowest,
because we understand his pain, because the movie argues that
quiet goodness matters even when nobody notices. It's a film
(29:17):
about validation, about being seen, about realizing your life had
meaning even when it felt too small. Every year it
makes people cry because every year we all feel a
little bit like George Bailey, trapped by circumstances and wondering
if we matter. And Number one is a Charlie Brown Christmas.
This is it. This is the Perfect Christmas Special, twenty
(29:41):
five minutes long, simple animation, a jazz soundtrack, child voice actors,
a story about a depressed kid trying to figure out
what Christmas means, and Linus's speech. That speech standing on
stage reciting the Nativity Story from Luke explaining to his
friend that Christmas is about hope and peace and a
(30:01):
child born to save the world. It's overtly religious in
a way that could feel preachy, but instead feels genuine.
It's a child offering comfort to another child through a
story he believes in. The special almost didn't air because
executives thought it was too slow, too quiet, too sincere,
but Charles Schultz refused to compromise, and the result is
(30:24):
the most pure, most honest, most emotionally direct Christmas story
ever told. It says Christmas isn't about stuff. It's about
each other. It's about recognizing loneliness in your friends and
showing up for them. It's about taking something broken and
making it beautiful together. That's everything Christmas should be. These
(30:45):
rankings are mine. They're based on my analysis of what
makes Christmas movies work, what makes them endure, what makes
them necessary. Your list will be different, and that's the
whole point. Christmas movies are personal. They connect to our
memories and our hopes and our private understanding of what
the holidays mean. The movies we return to every year
(31:07):
say something about who we are and what we need
from these stories. We've spent three episodes analyzing Christmas cinema,
exploring how these films capture the chaos and connection and
complicated emotions of the holiday season, from the classics that
built the foundation, through the modern films that exploded and
expanded the formula, to the hidden gems and controversial picks
(31:29):
that prove Christmas movies are still evolving. These aren't just entertainment.
They're how we process the season, how we understand family
and faith, and the gap between expectation and reality. They
give us permission to be both cynical and sincere, to
acknowledge the darkness while reaching for the light, to admit
(31:50):
the holidays are hard, while still believing they matter. The
best Christmas movies tell us it's not too late to change,
to reach out, to try again. They validate our stress
while insisting connection is worth the effort. They let us
laugh at dysfunction while honoring the love underneath. They say
belief is a choice, and choosing hope, even when it's terrifying,
(32:13):
is the bravest thing we can do. That's why we
watch them every year, not because they're perfect, but because
they remind us who we want to be and that
reminder is worth everything. Thanks for listening to the best
Christmas movies. Please subscribe for more content and share the
series with anyone who loves arguing about holiday films. This
(32:34):
has been brought to you by Quiet Please podcast networks.
For more content like this, please go to Quiet. Please
dot ai Quiet, please dot ai hear what matters.
Popular Podcasts
Las Culturistas with Matt Rogers and Bowen Yang
Ding dong! Join your culture consultants, Matt Rogers and Bowen Yang, on an unforgettable journey into the beating heart of CULTURE. Alongside sizzling special guests, they GET INTO the hottest pop-culture moments of the day and the formative cultural experiences that turned them into Culturistas. Produced by the Big Money Players Network and iHeartRadio.
Crime Junkie
Does hearing about a true crime case always leave you scouring the internet for the truth behind the story? Dive into your next mystery with Crime Junkie. Every Monday, join your host Ashley Flowers as she unravels all the details of infamous and underreported true crime cases with her best friend Brit Prawat. From cold cases to missing persons and heroes in our community who seek justice, Crime Junkie is your destination for theories and stories you won’t hear anywhere else. Whether you're a seasoned true crime enthusiast or new to the genre, you'll find yourself on the edge of your seat awaiting a new episode every Monday. If you can never get enough true crime... Congratulations, you’ve found your people. Follow to join a community of Crime Junkies! Crime Junkie is presented by Audiochuck Media Company.
The Brothers Ortiz
The Brothers Ortiz is the story of two brothers–both successful, but in very different ways. Gabe Ortiz becomes a third-highest ranking officer in all of Texas while his younger brother Larry climbs the ranks in Puro Tango Blast, a notorious Texas Prison gang. Gabe doesn’t know all the details of his brother’s nefarious dealings, and he’s made a point not to ask, to protect their relationship. But when Larry is murdered during a home invasion in a rented beach house, Gabe has no choice but to look into what happened that night. To solve Larry’s murder, Gabe, and the whole Ortiz family, must ask each other tough questions.