Holiday Inn,
directed by Mark Sandrich
(Paramount Pictures, 1942)


My favorite movie of all time is White Christmas. So when I first learned that it got its start with Holiday Inn, a film that had been released 12 years earlier, I decided to seek this one out, too. Alas! This older one is not the greater classic. And when watched in the 21st century, one scene from it is now socially inappropriate. I should have just stayed with what I liked.

Holiday Inn is an obvious vehicle in which to showcase the music of Irving Berlin. Bing Crosby had premiered Berlin's song "White Christmas" in a radio broadcast on Dec. 25, 1941. By the summer of 1942, the song appeared on a record album. The wistful tune was already popular by the time Holiday Inn came out for the end-of-year season, and such a movie could certainly help to further its reach. Why not fit lots of other Berlin creations into the mix, too? The result is a musical with a thin romantic storyline helping to make connections.

The movie opens with the break-up of the popular song-and-dance trio of Hardy, Hanover & Dixon. Jim Hardy (Crosby) plans to get away from the rat race of non-stop performing and traveling by buying a farm in peaceful Midville, Connecticut. Ted Hanover (Fred Astaire) and Lila Dixon (Virginia Dale) decide to keep on going as a duo (and as a couple, for a while), spurred on by the frenetic machinations of their manager and promoter, Danny Reed (Walter Abel). For the next year, Jim works on the farm, and Ted and Lila gain more musical acclaim.

But Jim comes to realize that his farm needs help. He transforms it into a hotel that is open only on holidays. By doing this, he can cast entertainers who would normally have had those 15 days off. Singer and dancer Linda Mason (Marjorie Reynolds) soon joins Jim in this effort. Jim writes a special song to be performed for each holiday. And Ted returns to the farm to sing and dance. One love triangle grows after another, and these adult men behave like teenagers. (If you ask me, the characters portrayed by Crosby and Danny Kaye are much more likable in White Christmas.)

This story spans a year, and we witness about nine of the 15 holiday performances. These are the days before some holidays are consolidated, and before many are relegated to landing on Mondays. Screen time is almost equally divided between Ted's dancing and Jim's crooning, when the two are not performing as a duo. The real show-stoppers are two of Ted's dances: one is when he is drunk on New Year's Eve and doesn't know that he's dancing with Linda; and the other is his Fourth of July tapper, "Say It with Firecrackers," which he accomplishes while smoking a cigarette. Both scenes can easily be found online, in case you want to pass on this film but are still interested enough to catch these scenes. They are well worth watching. Astaire had tremendous talent, yet he made his complex moves look casual and effortless. And Reynolds and Dale more than kept up with him, here.

The disturbing song is "Abraham," which is a tribute to Lincoln's birthday. Jim and Linda -- as well as most of the members of their band and chorus -- don blackface in order to witness as darkies, freed by Abraham. (Though Jim has another motive for disguising Linda's appearance, too.) They even bring in Jim's African-American housekeeper and cook, Mamie (Louise Beavers), and her two children, Daphne (Joan Arnold) and Vanderbilt (Shelby Bacon), to sing as dutiful and grateful servants. Even taking the times into account, it's an ugly scene. When White Christmas was filmed later, "Abraham" became instead a bouncy instrumental that Vera-Ellen and John Brascia could tap dance to, in amazing rhythm. Which version most honors Abraham Lincoln's legacy? The matter could be fodder for a full debate. Perhaps neither one would win.

The productions of Holiday Inn and White Christmas are easier to compare in a more general way. The earlier film was shot in black and white, whereas the later one came out in full-color "VistaVision." Both feature a New England country inn that needs some help with income, and music appears to provide the right remedy. The inns look alike, both inside and out. And of course, the main characters keep trying to fall in love with one another. So, why is White Christmas the more popular of the two? I believe it's because of the crucial third element that was added to its story, beyond the introduction of the inn and the adolescent complexity of the personal relationships. And this is the devotion to another, greater cause and character: that of General Waverly. His appearance and dilemma are entirely believable, in the post-war film. And the audience at the time could relate to the image of two former soldiers wanting to do something special for their former commander-in-need. It's the icing on the cake. (Especially at the end, literally and figuratively.) Such is my analysis. Holiday Inn has no such additional hook.

There are two bottom lines here. If you want the song "White Christmas," then watch the movie White Christmas. If you want to be entertained by Fred Astaire's terrific tapping and Bing Crosby's mellow melodies, all courtesy of Irving Berlin's compositions, then feel free to give this one a chance. Some of the songs will be familiar to you. Others will seem to be a bit forced or repetitive, managed as they are to fit the topic of each holiday. A few nice tunes are "You're Easy to Dance With," and "Be Careful, It's My Heart." But be prepared for the blackface scene that comes in February.

Holiday Inn may be the parent film of White Christmas. But it cannot hold a candle -- or even a matchstick -- to its own child's performance. View it with some hesitation.




Rambles.NET
review by
Corinne H. Smith


11 December 2021


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