Set in the late 1950’s in northern Indiana, this story of Ralph and his quest for an air rifle is so endearing that adults find it even more irresistible than their children. The only two downsides are that there is almost no mention of Christ in A Christmas Story, and Ralph’s foul-mouthed father gets a few expletives in the script. Fortunately, I know the movie so well that I can mute out the bad parts when my son is watching it with me.
Still, the nostalgia is so great that I can’t help but watch the film two or three times each year. It is absolutely hilarious. Even though I grew up 20 years later than the film’s setting, I still remember the double-dog dares, dodging bullies, and the daydreaming Ralph gets caught doing from time-to-time.
Then there’s the Chinese restaurant scene near the end, after Bumpus’ dogs partake of the Christmas turkey, when the servers sing carols to Ralph’s family: Deck the halls with boughs of horry, fa ra ra ra ra, ra ra ra ra, ’tis the season to be jorry, fa ra ra ra ra, ra ra ra ra….
It is a quintessentially American film. Even writing this has me longing for a White Christmas…just this once. About eight inches.
