I live in constant fear. It happens every year around this time.
I have theatrophobia. Well, sort of. Theatrophobia is a fear of theaters. I’m not really afraid of theaters; I’m afraid of movies.
Not all movies, just remakes of Christmas classics.
I don’t know why there even has to be such a thing. Christmas classics are “classic” for a reason — they’re perfect just the way they are. “It’s a Wonderful Life” doesn’t need Ted Turner’s colorization nonsense. And there are already too many versions of Dickens’ “A Christmas Carol”; we don’t need another starring Justin Bieber in the role of Tiny Tim. (In point of fact, we don’t really need Justin Bieber starring in anything at all, but that’s a rant for another time.)
My point is, the best classic holiday films are already perfect, or close enough that the odds of Hollywood coming up with new and improved versions are not good.
“Miracle on 34th Street,” for example. The original, released in 1947 — starring Edmund Gween, Maureen O’Hara and a young Natalie Wood as the precocious “Santathiest” kid who only sees the light after St. Nick finally gives her a new house — is great. I watch it every year and every year I believe, even though Santa’s never delivered anything even approaching a house to ME on Christmas morning.
On the other hand, I gravitate toward that naughty column all year long and probably should be thrilled that anything at all is waiting for me beneath the tree.
The remake of “Miracle” was filmed in 1994 and the best thing you can say about it is it stars the world’s worst grandpa from “Jurassic Park,” Richard Attenborough. Though Attenborough makes a credible Santa, every time he ho-ho-ho’s, I start worrying the noise may attract a velociraptor.
I just can’t watch it without wishing I was watching the original instead. It’s like those old K-Tel records that featured studio band remakes of pop hits; they didn’t exactly stink, but they entirely failed to satisfy. When you’re in the mood for “Play That Funky Music White Boy,” you wanna hear Wild Cherry, not Larry & the K-Tel All-Stars.
The real reason I’m yammering on about this, though, is I’ve heard rumors they’re planning a remake of “It’s a Wonderful Life” — my all-time personal hands-down favorite Christmas flick. It’s actually a sequel, which is even worse. Mercifully, the project is still up in the air. Or so I’ve heard. I’m not exactly part of the Hollywood cognoscenti.
All I can say is, this must not happen. Did Van Gogh paint “Starry Night II?” Did Alexandros of Antioch ever sculpt “Venus de Milo Redux; the Search for Two Arms?”
No, they did not. Why? Because those works weren’t going to get any better and their creators weren’t greedy sleaze-ball producers who would clone their own mothers if there was a dime to be made from it.
Every time a movie theater cash register rings, some Hollywood hack earns a buck.
It’s enough to make you theatrophobic.
Catch Mike Taylor’s Reality Check radio program every weekday at 5:30 p.m. on WGLM, m106.3 on your FM dial.
mtaylor@staffordgroup.com
(616) 548-8273
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