It’s a Dark Life
When I was a kid, this was the time of year when Frank Capra’s 1946 movie, It’s a Wonderful Life, played on TV at least once a day—and usually more—every day, from Thanksgiving until Christmas. In the public domain thanks to a clerical error, It’s a Wonderful Life represented cost-free advertising revenue for cable and broadcast stations, so they played it 24-7 and raked in the cash. Then, in maneuvers worthy of the movie’s greedy villain, Mr. Potter, various corporations sued and negotiated in the 1990s to put it once again under copyright, and to license broadcast rights to only one network, NBC, which now shows it exactly twice every year.
Never again will It’s a Wonderful Life be part of the national conscience as it was in my youth, and I predict that fewer and fewer people will gather ’round their TV sets to relive the movie’s unforgettable story of a man driven by a lifetime of broken dreams to attempt suicide on Christmas Eve, only to be saved by the intercession of his guardian angel.
I got to thinking about It’s a Wonderful Life thanks to a December 1 essay in the online edition of First Things magazine, in which writer Joe Carter contrasts the hero of that film, George Bailey, with Howard Roark, the protagonist of Ayn Rand’s novel The Fountainhead (1943). I’ve never read The Fountainhead and don’t intend to (if you read Whittaker Chambers’ biting 1957 review of Rand’s other famous novel, Atlas Shrugged, you don’t need to read anything by Rand), but I found Carter’s take on It’s a Wonderful Life particularly intriguing.
George Bailey is a dark, complex, and infinitely interesting character, wrote Carter, who correctly argued that It’s a Wonderful Life “is not a simplistic morality play” that “ends on a happy note late on Christmas Eve, when George is saved from ruin.” Indeed, “On Christmas Day he’ll wake to find that his life is not so different than it was when he wanted to commit suicide.”
Such an analysis may strike fans of the movie as a bit off, given that, on a certain level, it is a cornball movie. It’s a Wonderful Life has corny dialogue, corny humor, slapstick, hijinks and low-jinks. But beneath all that, it also is a very dark film. Opening with George’s friends praying that he can be found before he does the unthinkable, death hangs over it, and each death, even the deaths George prevents, sends him in directions he does not want to go, pulling him further and further from his dreams and ambitions, turning him into every bit the “warped, frustrated young man” that Mr. Potter says he is.
It’s a Wonderful Life has been called a paean to small town life and values, but George wants nothing to do with his one-stoplight town, or its values. “I’m shaking the dust of this crummy little town off my feet and I’m gonna see the world,” he says to young Mary Hatch. “And then I’m gonna build things. I’m gonna build airfields, I’m gonna build skyscrapers a hundred stories high, I’m gonna build bridges a mile long…”
But the night before George’s departure, his father dies, forcing George to take over the family business, a “penny-ante building and loan.” He gives his trip and college money to his younger brother Harry, whose life he had saved when they were boys. Harry becomes a college football hero and then starts a successful career. All of George’s friends have similar professional success, while he gets locked into the building and loan, scraping by on a meager salary in a miserable job. The one bright spot in his life is that he marries Mary Hatch, who gives him four children. But his bitterness blocks his ability to appreciate this gift. “You call this a happy family? Why do we have to have all these kids!” he rages on Christmas Eve.
What does George think about as he lies awake late at night? Does he resent that he saved his brother’s life? Does he hate his father for saddling him with the family business by dying? Does he resent that his wife chose him, a failure, when she could have had any man in town?
It’s a Wonderful Life takes George (and the viewer) to the very brink of hell, then literally dives right in, and you have to wonder that it took a major financial crisis to get George to that bridge on Christmas Eve. He could have gone any time.
Capra wrote the part of George for James Stewart, casting him against type. Stewart is primarily known for his many “aw shucks” roles, but Alfred Hitchcock cast him to play dark, troubled characters in a number of his films. Quite possibly, Hitchcock gained a special insight into Stewart’s acting ability from watching It’s a Wonderful Life.
I disagree with Carter in one point, where he wrote, “Surely, the only reason the film has become a Christmas classic is because so few people grasp this core message.” First, to reduce It’s a Wonderful Life to one “core message” is to detract from its overall scope. It will mean different things to different people. But I will say this: that anyone who has ever suffered through a severe spiritual or moral crisis should study this movie closely, because it will speak to you. Contrary to Carter, I think that everyone who sees it can grasp its layered themes in some fundamental way, even if they can’t fully articulate those themes—hence, its enduring popularity.
I have heard some people mock the denouement for being too cornball. But it is not cornball. It is the opposite of cornball. It is what J.R.R. Tolkien called Eucatastrophe: the sudden, joyous turn, such as Christ’s resurrection after his death on the cross. “Strange, isn’t it?” George’s guardian angel says to him, “each man’s life touches so many other lives. When he isn’t around he leaves an awful hole, doesn’t he?”
Don’t wait for NBC to broadcast It’s a Wonderful Life this year. Rent or buy it, and watch it with your family.
Excellent review, Sean. I’d not given George Bailey a lot of thought over the years…I just knew that I loved the movie. This helps clarify a few things, as well as making me want to see it again more than ever. Many thanks for that!
You’re welcome Jef, and thanks for visiting!
Sean
One particularly Chestertonian note in the movie is, of course, the pub. Martini’s is a place where people drink because they are happy. You can hear the communal singing in the background. It transforms into Nick’s where men drink because they are miserable. “We serve hard drinks in here for men who want to get drunk fast.” I’m not certain if Capra ever read Heretics, but the parallel is there.
“It’s a Wonderful Life” is “A Christmas Carol” retold in many ways, with George Bailey as Scrooge. This is a surprising twist, for Mr. Potter seems to be the Scrooge figure throughout the movie (in fact, Lionel Barrymore was publicly identified as Scrooge because he read “A Christmas Carol” live on the radio for years and was slated to play Scrooge in the 1938 film version). Indeed, after several re-viewings, you can pick up on the parallels between the hero George and the villain Potter that are placed throughout the movie. George Bailey has a lingering disaffection for his life that is brought to a head at the end, and his vision, with the help of his guardian angel, of the world without him is similar to the ephiphany Scrooge experiences via the ghosts.
In fact, the theme of death and rebirth that Scrooge and George Bailey encounter goes back at least to the mummer’s plays of medieval England. In the Christmas mummer’s plays that toured house to house, it was typical for one character (the villain of the piece, a Turk or Muslem, usually) to die during the play and to be brought back to life by a doctor of some sort.
The disgust for life that both Scrooge and George Bailey feel is a kind of spiritual death, which, in Chestertonian fashion, is cured by something true death gives: a vision of the great gift that life is – a vision that in this movie, in “A Christmas Carol”, and in all of Chesterton’s writings, bears the fruit of gratitude.
I like to ask questions and see everything from various perespectives before drawing conclusions. This is a rabbit trailing thought from the third paragraph of this article. I’m not at all meaning it in an impertinent tone, but as more of an inquisitive spark.
http://www.capitalismmagazine.com/index.php?news=5069
So what is your question?
Interesting article but I suggest you to read Ayn Rand’s books. She, as much as Chesterton, has suffered the censorship of the Left.
Some of the best uplifting stories take their heroes through Hell to get to Heaven. Not just in the sight-seeing Dantean sense either. It’s simply a greater victory for mercy, love and redemption, isn’t it?
Indeed it is, S Cobbler, hence the Euchatastrophe I mentioned.
Valerio, I did try Rand once and found her unsatisfying on a number of levels. However, she is not censored by anybody; her books continue to sell well.
Hey! This is great, Sean! I’ll link it next time I blog!
Thanks, Mark!
Yes, and even if one disagrees with her, her viewpoints merit attention.
You say that based upon Whittaker Chambers’ review of one book by Ayn Rand that no one has any reason to read anything by Rand. My question is, why should that one review finalize for everyone the weakness and inferiority of Ayn Rand’s ideas? I’ve read other articles like the one that I posted in the previous link that make Whittaker Chambers’ review look full of holes and like he was just blowing haughty, angry smoke. I don’t know enough about anything to write an article of use about it myself, but I do know that one who tries to make definitive statements about what another should or should not investigate always gives me reason to pause and ask, “Really? Why?”
I thoroughly enjoyed reading this article by the way! I’m sorry I didn’t put that in my first post.
Curious, I am glad you liked my article, thanks.
The guy who wrote the article you linked to is a senior advisor to the Ayn Rand archives and is a former director of the Ayn Rand Institute. I would expect him to not like Chambers’ spot-on analysis of her books. Got anything from a neutral source? If you want to read more Ayn Rand, have at it. I never said, “do not read her.” I have read one of Rand’s books, Anthem, and it left me cold. I have read enough of Chambers’ work, including his autobiography, to trust his criticisms of Rand. She was an atheist who peddled a poisonous philosophy of individualism and Nietzschian worship of man and power for its own sake. She gets a pass from conservatives because she was anti-communist. However, her alternative would be just as brutally opressive as any commmunist regime. Why waste any time reading her?
And why the intense focus on one sentence of my essay? It was a toss-off line, having nothing to do with the rest of what I wrote.
Of course her viewpoints merit attention, Joseph. You have to pay at least enough attention to them to refute them.
I read a little bit of Ayn Rand some years ago. I can’t stand her fiction — I only got about 40 pages into both “The Fountainhead” and “Atlas Shrugged” before giving up — but there are a couple of her books that actually make some sense and which I did like: “The Romantic Manifesto,” which explains her view of art, and “The New Left: The Anti-Industrial Revolution,” a collection of essays which deftly skewer the pretentions of the ’60s counterculture crowd. I certainly don’t agree with EVERYTHING in either book, but there are enough nuggets of truth in them to make them worth reading, in my opinion.
I suspect that Rand’s Objectivist philosophy was, at bottom, an overreaction to what she experienced in Bolshevik Russia and also to the rise of Nazism. Since both regimes used the concept of “collective good” to justify their actions, Rand became, shall we say, philosophically allergic to the very idea of collective or common good and went off the deep end in the other direction, toward extreme individualism.
Objectivism is a great philosophy for young, healthy, single people who have no responsibilities to anyone other than themselves. It loses its attraction pretty quickly once you marry, have children, get old or sick, or have sick or elderly parents/friends to care for.
Rand never had any children, and although she was married to the same man for over 50 years, it was an “open” marriage in which both carried on affairs with others. She was also VERY pro-abortion (no surprise there) and referred to unborn children as “parasites”, although she also opposed any use of taxpayer funds to support abortion.
“each man’s life touches so many other lives. When he isn’t around he leaves an awful hole, doesn’t he?”
I’m sure you and I have seen living proof of that in recent days….
We certainly have, Elaine. It’s a shame Mayor Davlin did not seek out the help of his guardian angel, or at least watch It’s a Wonderful Life. May God have mercy on his soul.
To say that Ayn Rand is censored seems like an overstatement to me. And while I will admit that she does raise the ire of the political left, that in itself is not a good endorsement in my opinion. I believe Rand is the first retreat of many who see and/or realize the threat of the evils of socialism but it is an oversteer before setting on a true and safe course or perhaps course of “Truth.”
Zuzu’s petals!!!!
First of all I am a fan of Ahlquist’s show “The apostle of common sense” and am grateful to his efforts to acquaint more people with the works of G.K. Chesterton. That having been said, with all due respect, “If one gives an answer before he hears, it is his folly and shame.” I find your evaluation of Ayn Rand based on someone else’s book review to be extremely unfounded. I am not an Objectivist and do not agree with much of what Ayn Rand has to say but you’d be surprised how much gold there is among the atheist garbage. Whittaker Chambers’ review of Atlas Shrugged indicated a clear misunderstanding of much of what she advocated (specifically politically). Rand never advocated anyone “into the gas chambers”. One of the main tenets of her philosophy is non-aggression.
For all it’s flaws, Rand’s philosophy can not be digested by reading a book review and her 100 page novella (which takes less than an afternoon to read). I urge you to read her philosophy and judge it by it’s own merits.
Here is another review of “Atlas Shrugged”. It was written for National Review and the article explains the “gas chamber” feature of the novel.
http://www.nationalreview.com/articles/print/244381
Ayrton, why should I waste time seeking for “gold among the atheist garbage” when with Chesterton, Belloc, Tolkien, and even Rowling, there is no need to sift, since it’s all gold?
And while in most cases it is best to go to the source rather than rely on one critic, but in this case the critic was Whittaker Chambers, who knew a thing or two about philosophies, Right or Left, that dismiss God and turn man into a god.
Mr. Dailey, i know this article is far old, but i wanted to read in the comments again, because some good debate was sparked. But having read your last comment you said, “and even Rowling, there is no need to sift, since it’s all gold.” Rowling?! How can you condemn one athiest while raising up another, Mr. Dailey? I found it surprising that you would condone a woman who has written a book series that has increased the number of young children’s tamperings in the occult, and the promotion of the new age spirit amongst our youth. J.R.R. Tolkein would backflip in his grave to know that “Catholics” of today approve such evil work, and you know what else, sir? So would G.K. Chesterton. Though the man loved fantasy, he wouldn’t have approved any reading material that can/would lead anyone away from the Church. His whole life was the journey and realization of the Catholic Church as Truth. Any little foothold the devil can get he will take, and sir, Rowling’s work is that foothold. I mean this with all due respect Mr. Dailey.
Patdbest,
First, Rowling is not an atheist. She is a believing, practicing Chrisian, a member of the Church of Scotland. She has cited her Christian beliefs as a major inspiration for Harry Potter.
Second, there is not a smidgeon of the occult in the Harry Potter series.
Third, if people misuse Rowling’s book to support occult or New Age beliefs and practices, it is hardly Rowling’s fault. Many occultists and Wiccans also happen to be fans of J.R.R. Tolkien. If you don’t believe me, spend some time on some Tolkien fan pages.
Fourth, Tolkien and Chesterton would have loved Harry Potter, and if you don’t think so, you don’t know their work and beliefs as well as you think you do.
Fifth, is your use of scare quotes around “Catholics” above an implication that I (and other Catholic HP fans) do not measure up to your idea of what a good Catholic is? Because while reading Harry Potter is no sin, lying about your neighbor cerainly is — and Tolkien and Chesteton would tell you so as well, were they here.
One thing I just cannot undersand is how people who measure piety by an aversion to all things HP so readily violate the Eighth Commandment. I warn you, in all charity, that calling Rowling an atheist (you have never met her and are never likely to — how do you know she’s an atheist?) and implying that Catholic HP fans are not true Catholics: these are sins against the Eighth Commandment.
Cheers,
Sean Dailey
why did you change the web site?
you chaged foremat of the web
Odd. I liked Ayn Rand’s fiction but not her philosophical writings. The Fountainhead is about who owns creative works. Is it the artist (as Rand claims)? It features an architect, Howard Roark, who destroys a building he designed when he sees that its integrity is being compromised by a committee of architectural incompetents. Atlas Shrugged is longer and more polemical. It takes the idea of a labor strike and applies it to those who create wealth through innovation. The “men of mind” go on strike and let the world fumble along without any leadership or creative energy from the business community. Except for a long, expository section reminiscent of her philosophical writings in Atlas Shrugged, both books are well worth reading and continue to attract an audience, particularly in colleges. She also wrote a darker and more emotionally available novel called We The Living set in Soviet Russia after the revolution. I consider it better because it pays more attention to the story and less to the preaching of her philosophy.
I don’t (as do some) take issue with your not wanting to read Ayn Rand. A man’s time in this world is limited, and reading even a moderately good book may mean taking time away from reading a thoroughly great one. However, you might consider tempering your censure of Rand with a little modesty since, by your own admission, you know so little of her.