HOME ALONE (1990)
What (Exactly) Makes It A Classic
Nearing the end of the year, I frequently find myself looking forward to crossing off all the items in my Holiday Must-Watch List. Fueled, in part, by my psychophysical need for consistency, having what is essentially a month-long ritual in which I review media I have seen time and time again is incredibly comforting. Of course, it’s not enough to just lay back and enjoy these films. No, I’ve got to learn everything I can about them from the production particulars to their social contexts. I love looking into the ways media assimilates and, at times, permeates culture and how the idea of being iconic is intrinsically tied to the prerequisite of transcending time. This goes double for one of film’s more niche subgenres (and the subject of this evening’s article): the holiday blockbuster.
The best holiday movies are those that both festive and non-festive folk can enjoy among all the hubbub and hullabaloo of when it is and is not appropriate start fussing over fruit cakes and decorations. 1990’s holiday classic HOME ALONE is the prototypical epitome of holiday filmmaking—a movie that has become not only a source of nostalgia for many, but whose screening has become a holiday tradition in homes across the nation (not excluding my own).
Visually, the costuming for and set design of HOME ALONE are immaculate and do an outstanding job of immersing the audience into the world and story. The movie’s design of its interiors of houses and shops alike are especially comforting and festive. Just seeing the meticulous care taken towards these designs and concepts expresses how inspired the crew was by the perspectives and imaginations of children. Thanks to its phenomenal visual storytelling, HOME ALONE will always hold a place in American pop-culture as a nostalgia-packed holiday classic.
Astounding aesthetics aside, the visual, design and costuming of cinematic classics like HOME ALONE serve as a cozy and a fun flashback of the disparate trends of the ‘90s spanning all sorts of socioeconomic standings. There’s a poignant charm to the look and feel of films made all those years ago, serving as time capsules of their eras. It’s so interesting to note how costume designers play such a pivotal role in depicting the cast’s personalities, movitations, and backgrounds before a word of dialogue is expressed.
Take, for example, HOME ALONE’s protagonist, the mischievous Kevin McAllister. Every inch of the character’s design—from his oversized sweater, to his disheveled blonde hair to the way his cobbled together toys and gadgets strewn about his cramped room—exemplify Kevin’s boyish curiosity and, at times, impish cunning.
Many hail 1990’s HOME ALONE as a typical, easy-to-digest comedy. I, on the other hand, find it to be a much more satisfying watch as a vaudevillian absurdist piece.
Similar in style to films like the 1988 cult-classic WHO FRAMED ROGER RABBIT, the movie asks its audience to suspend their disbelief in favor of pushing the boundaries of their unique universes. Not just for the incorporation of fantasy violence, but as a tool that broadens the capabilities and direction in which the movie is able to go.
WHO FRAMED ROGER RABBIT brings to life amazing animated sequences that manifest a lighthearted, fantastical world. As the film progresses, the not-at-all-terrifying plot unveils that the main protagonist is being chased, hunted, and tormented by beloved Saturday-morning cartoons icons. Some deny that certain movies (especially animated pieces such as WHO FRAMED ROGER RABBIT and holiday hits like HOME ALONE) can push boundaries, or tread these almost-mortifying lines simply because they are, or had been, marketed towards families. HOME ALONE manages to subvert these expectations in unexpected, entertaining ways.
HOME ALONE does magnificent work of creating conflict and addressing heavier concepts while retaining the jovial, romp-about feel of a family movie. Nowhere does the film excel more than their expert use of slapstick comedy. The acrobatic stumbles and exaggerated reactions of Wet Bandits (the film’s diabolical duo) create incredibly dynamic scenes that make the entire movie exponentially more entertaining. Furthermore, our protagonist Kevin McCallister’s tendency to break the fourth wall works wonders to add to the phenomenal, almost fantastical feel of the film. These fantastic little moments add a welcome juxtaposition to the movie’s realism, rounding out the film's rougher, darker edges inviting the audience not to take the movie too seriously.
Even while exuding an overarching air of comfort and holiday cheer, there is a surprisingly dark central conflict that permeates the piece: the terrifying loneliness of isolation. In fact, the film goes one step further by plunging its protagonist into this hopeless, terrifying situation during Christmas, a time where togetherness is valued the most.
HOME ALONE uses every aspect of its cinematography to paint a wonderful dichotomy between the warm and fuzzy feelings of the holiday season and the bleak, biting chill of solitude.
There’s always something fantastical about this time of year. Aside from the incredibly complicated feelings the pandemic conjures within all of us, there is a consistently abstract sentimentality that only manifests itself in the latter parts of the year.
HOME ALONE grabs hold of those feelings and delightfully exploits them while maintaining a playful, lighthearted air throughout its 103-minute run time. This time of year is crazy, hectic, and chaotic. Frankly, it can be hard to articulate the exact emotion. For many it’s a complicated mixture of conflicting feelings. HOME ALONE offers a conclusion that affirms all the general angst people feel while encouraging them to seek out love and comfort from those closest to them.
