Imagine the world without It’s a Wonderful Life
Why there’s no sense dwelling on what you could’ve done differently
This is the Christmas I finally watched It’s a Wonderful Life — a movie I’ve owned and kept shrink-wrapped in plastic for at least seven years. I could’ve watched it any other Christmas and I didn’t. I find that I think about this a lot. The irony is not lost on me.
At least I’m not the only one. The greatest Christmas film ever wasn’t seen by anybody for almost thirty years. Still, I would like to have learned the lesson of this film in my twenties instead of needing to figure it out for myself only to have it rubbed in my face at thirty. But then there’s no sense dwelling on what could’ve been or what you might’ve done differently. That’s me telling you that but I suppose it helps that Frank Capra believed it, too.
I’ve always been acutely aware of the small ways life could have been different. Dramatic irony — the phenomenon by which the audience knows more than the characters — makes me squirm. Because for every film I’m able to observe omnisciently, I’m nagged by a feeling that someone may be watching me the same way. Maybe my choices are making them squirm, too. Maybe they were screaming at me through my twenties: “Just watch It’s a Wonderful Life, Tom — it’s right there wrapped in plastic!”
And I had to learn to tune out that voice all by myself.
This film isn’t quite an exercise in dramatic irony. But it feels like a story about it. And there’s no better time than Christmas for that kind of reflection. I suppose I’m just lucky that, with or without having watched It’s a Wonderful Life, I’ve been reflecting every year anyway.
