’Tis the season for Mr Napkin Head and Hugh Grant wiggling around No. 10, folks! Time for all you romantics to cosy up to rewatch the classics and add the same-same-but-new Christmas movies to your watchlist. To soak up that G-rated goodness of snow-covered small towns draped in enough fairy lights to illuminate another Taylor Swift world tour, perfectly coiffed people dressed in ridiculous Rudolph sweaters, and mistletoe-induced closed-mouth kisses between would-be lovers.
Christmas movies are basically my kryptonite. I love them. Always have, always will. When I was a kid, we went to New York in December three years in a row and I will never forget marvelling at the skyscrapers wrapped in giant ribbons next to skyscraper-like Christmas trees, cruising the aisles of Toys‘R’Us and Macy’s while high on candy canes, and listening to Jingle Bells and Silent Night on repeat in every store, supermarket, train, hotel, restaurant. The holiday cheer was unmissable. My brother and I would inhale our breakfast staple of hot chocolate and head out for snowball fights with our cousins (we’d usually come back inside when someone started crying after getting hit in the face). I also remember moments of pleasant hibernation where all of us would be huddled together in the cinema watching Bill Murray get punched by a fairy in Scrooged, still one of my all-time favourite Christmas movies. It’s the perfect comfort watch—no matter how messed up things get, everything will turn out okay in the end.
Head to The Nod to read author Trisha Das's piece on why she's never breaking up with Christmas movies.
