Where Everybody Knows The Lyrics

If my husband and I are ever on a quiz show and the topic is White Christmas, we will easily leave our fellow contestants in the dust. Throughout our marriage – and, for me, even longer than that – it has been a tradition that the holidays don’t officially commence until we’ve watched Bing Crosby and Danny Kaye croon their way to Pine Tree, Vermont and give their former commanding general the best darned Christmas of his life.

All right, so I suppose that knowing all the lyrics and dialogue of this heart-tugging chestnut from the 1950’s doesn’t put us in the same cultish league as fans of The Rocky Horror Picture Show who dress up in costume and throw toast at the screen. Longstanding familiarity, however, breeds a level of mirth that goes beyond the entertainment value of, “Let’s get the kids together, find a barn, and put on a show.”

In this case, the kids are a quartet of song-and-dance adults, the barn is a ski lodge sans winter snow, and the Christmas Eve production – replete with full orchestra, lavish costumes, and multiple set changes – is a chance for two Army pals to throw the spotlight on a retired codger who has faded into obscurity at war’s end. It goes without saying that cinematography has come a long way in the half century since the film first debuted. Likewise, continuity editors have gotten sharper at noticing when inanimate objects such as coffee pots, suitcases and menus seem to relocate themselves between shots without any human assistance.

Tis the season for silliness as we take a look at some of the flubs, incongruities, and unabashed kookiness that make this movie funnier with every passing year.

For those of you who have forgotten the circumstances of what brought Bob Wallace (Crosby) and Phil Davis (Kaye) together, the backdrop is Europe in 1944. Following a rousing choral send-off for the departing General Waverly (Dean Jagger) – and why is it that military units are always blessed with members who can not only sing on key but also beautifully harmonize? – Davis saves Wallace from a scary cardboard wall that’s about to fall on him. Davis immediately sees Wallace’s gratitude as an invitation for them to start doing duets once they’re back in the States. Donald O’Connor, by the way, was the studio’s second pick to play Davis. The first was Fred Astaire.

As was the case with many 1950’s flicks with outdoor scenes, viewers may notice how meticulously well groomed the roads are, even at the front line. It’s curious as well to ponder where the musical instruments, the Currier and Ives painted backdrop, and even all the benches came from for the Christmas Eve performance that Wallace and Davis are putting on for the troops when the movie opens.

In the spirit of “the show must go on”, no one is even daunted by the menacing sound of bombs exploding in the background; if anything, it encourages everyone to sing the next chorus of “We’ll Follow The Ol’ Man Wherever He Wants To Go” even louder. Between the bright lights and the swell of music making them a fairly easy target for the Germans, it’s somewhat amazing that the only soldier in the entire company to incur any injury was Davis.

Shortly thereafter, newspaper headlines tout the exciting news that the war is finally over. We also see a boffo announcement that Wallace and Davis are going to team up. Okay, so Wallace was supposedly already famous when he first enlisted but who’s this Davis clown? By his own admission, the plucky private’s prior venue for songs and jokes was family living rooms. Why does this rate a front page slot and giant letters?

We’re next introduced to the Haynes Sisters – Betty (Rosemary Clooney) and Judy (Vera Ellen) who are headlining at a supper club called Novello’s in Florida. One has to wonder how they locked down this swell gig, especially when they apparently only have one song in their sister-act repertoire. Trivia buffs take note: Rosemary Clooney actually sang both parts while Vera Ellen engaged in lip-synching. As is later repeated in a solo scene with Betty at The Carousel Club in New York, the 40/20 rule for floor shows doesn’t appear to apply; after performing only a single number to enthusiastic applause, the entertainers are then free to leave the stage or, for that matter, catch a train and leave the state. This would seem to be a particularly risky choice for Betty whose boss and his cohorts at the Carousel look as if they might moonlight as mobsters on the side.

Vehicles appear by magic throughout this film. Whether it’s a jeep at the front line or a yellow cab that just happens to be cruising through a back alley, they are always there at the precise moment they are needed. And speaking of military jeeps, how did one of them find its way to the Columbia Inn? Was it a lovely parting gift from the Army when Waverly retired to civilian life or was he secretly shipping various parts home during his tenure and assembling the whole thing stateside as a “neh, neh, neh” for getting the boot?

Today’s suitcases just don’t carry as much as they did in the 50’s. When Betty and Judy disembark from the train in Pine Tree, Vermont, take note of how few bags they are each carrying. As the film progresses, take further note of how many costume changes they respectively go through and realize that this is the wardrobe they brought with them from Florida when they beat their hasty retreat out the dressing room window.

Is that a California license plate on the station wagon that delivers the gang to their destination in the Vermont woods? And how big, exactly, is the Columbia Inn? The only three bedrooms we ever see in it are those of Waverly, and the two sets of bungalows occupied by the Haynes Sisters and Bob and Phil. Any one of them is easily the size of a sitcom apartment. Fast forward to the arrival of Bob and Phil’s entire cast – including musicians and technicians – who are supposedly going to be staying there for the duration of rehearsals. Do they all have rooms as big as the three we’ve seen? If everyone gets their own individual accommodations, the inn would have to be so enormous it could qualify for its own zip code. Even if they’re a really chummy crowd that doesn’t mind doubling and tripling up, where do all of them hang out when they’re not rehearsing? Curiously, all of these extras are never seen in the dining room, the expansive lobby or on the grounds.

This also begs the silly question of why Waverly already employed a small orchestra and a few guys to run spotlights when the Haynes Sisters first perform their signature song after check-in…even though he had no other performers booked onsite to justify this expense.

Waverly introduces a sweet young woman as his granddaughter Susan, yet no mention is ever made of where Susan’s parents are or, in the same vein, what ever happened to Waverly’s wife.

When Bob and Phil hit upon the novel idea to bring their production to Vermont, they decide that they can do one of their old acts and “fill in with the Haynes Sisters”. Considering that Betty and Judy are given the lead roles in virtually every number in the lineup, one has to wonder what happened to the women who were originally assigned.

Watch carefully after Waverly contemplates taking up the game of horseshoes. As he crosses past the horseshoe pit, a casually thrown horseshoe narrowly misses hitting him in the head.

What is going through Betty’s mind as she stares at Bob when he is singing the blessings number? Is it his voice? Is it his hairline? Or is she possibly thinking that his ears make his head look like a taxi with both doors open?

Dancer Barrie Chase appears in the uncredited role of showgirl Doris. Her funniest line? “Mutual, I’m sure.”

Astute observers will note that the very same shapely pair of legs sitting at the bar at Novello’s appears again at Waverly’s Christmas party in Vermont. In addition, the same quartet of young males with Brylcreem-styled hair in rehearsals at the inn appear in Betty’s performance in New York at the Carousel Club. They are also probably heavily doused in Aqua Velva.

What was the wardrobe department thinking when they decided that pairing brown jackets with gray slacks was a stylish combination?

When Bob dashes off to New York to meet his ol’ pal Ed Harrison and go on his radio program, their designated meeting spot just happens to be the very club where Betty is performing. Okay, we can cut everyone some slack here because this is, after all, movie magic contrivance. Bob obviously shows up at the appointed hour, catches Betty’s act, and has even budgeted time to explain what’s going on with Judy and Phil. When Ed Harrison finally arrives, the first thing he tells Bob is that they’re late and that they have to go. First of all, Ed is the one who was late. Secondly, why didn’t he just tell Bob to meet him at the radio station?

And why is it that, no matter where you go, people at parties always smile and sway and know all of the lyrics to “The Best Things Happen While You’re Dancing”? My husband and I have gone to countless holiday gatherings and this has never, ever happened to us.

What are the exact dimensions of the stage at the inn? When the Haynes sisters are first seen singing on it, it looks pretty small. Can this really be the same platform that’s used for the “Minstrel Show/Mandy” number and “Choreography”? Given that the room probably wasn’t originally designed to accommodate Broadway-style productions, viewers who are familiar with live theater will appreciate the amount of additional square footage that would be required for wing and fly space just to store the sets. And what’s with the portable orchestra pit that vanishes a nanosecond after every song wraps up?

There’s probably a good reason why General Waverly was moved off of the front line. When you figure that an entire army unit – plus their wives and noisy children – could show up at the inn, fill up the parking lot, and scurry in to dinner without him even hearing/seeing them approach (in spite of the fact that they are just on the other side of his bedroom wall) – well, you get the picture.

The inn is obviously also serving a multi-course Christmas Eve dinner and a lot of champagne. Does his housekeeper have such a tight rein on the grocery expenses that the general is clueless Emma has gone out and bought so much food without his being aware of it? Wouldn’t the inn, further, have to hire a small army of extra help to serve it and wash the dishes afterwards? What about workers’ comp insurance? What about having to pay the workers double or triple time because they are working a holiday evening shift?

When I was younger, I used to get a lump in my throat when Waverly finally stepped into the dining room and discovered he was the center of attention. On closer inspection, however, he seems to blink in total confusion as he takes it all in. Perhaps he is thinking, “Who the hell are all these people? I’ve never seen them before in my life.”

Lastly, it’s with great effort that Waverly huffs and puffs and blows out all the candles on his cake. In the final scene before the credits roll, however, they are all brightly lit again.

Truth be told, though, as much as we snicker at plot holes large enough to drive a convoy through, White Christmas not only delivers a movie with a good heart but also reinforces the timeless message that the simple act of remembering those who have been important to us is often the very best present of all.