“My dad loved Kevin Costner—loved him through his career ups (The Untouchables) and downs (Waterworld). And there was no down quite like The Postman, a three-hour dystopian epic produced and directed by Costner himself, and released on Christmas Day, 1997. The Postman was a disastrous bomb that derailed the actor’s career, but the Antrim family dutifully contributed to its box office receipts, the four of us assembling at the multiplex—my dad, my stepmother, my sister and me—because what else are you going to do after opening presents? Anything but this.” —Taylor Antrim, deputy editor
Rosalind Russell in Auntie Mame (1958)
Photo: Alamy Stock Photo“The week before Christmas in 2017, the Metrograph showed the 1958 classic comedy Auntie Mame. It’s a film I committed to memory as a child, raised by devotees of midcentury musicals and comedies. And what better reason to duck out of a frigid, dark December day than to be plunged into the lush, Technicolor world of the upper crust 1920s and ’30s?
Golden Age comic legend Rosalind Russell plays an eccentric, single bon vivant who unexpectedly finds herself the custodian of her earnest, 10-year-old nephew, Patrick, and must endure a number of hilarious jobs and suitors. She swans around decadent locations like her palatial Beekman Place apartment in sumptuous robes, furs, and diamonds, gliding long cigarette holders, serving up “fish-berry jam” (caviar), and, in one crucial scene, jangling a cacophonous charm bracelet. A fast-talking ball of frivolousness, she, more importantly, has a big heart and a mind open to, shall we say, unconventional ideas and trends that make the blue-bloods boil.
The film covers a number of Christmases across the Great Depression and after, ultimately emphasizing that life is less about material possessions than about the richness of connections to family, both chosen and blood related. (Granted, it’s not free of unfortunate caricatures, but they’re made slightly more palatable by the over-the-top feel of the entire movie.) Plunged into the crisp evening after the film, we repaired around the corner to the cozy confines of Forgetmenot for deliciously boozy hot chocolates; Mame surely would have approved of such decadence. And is there any more potent message to shout from the top of a sweeping staircase during any year—and this one in particular—than ‘Live, live, live!’?” —Lisa Macabasco, research manager, senior digital line editor