I have a midterm today I should be studying for
so let's write about 'A Christmas Story' instead
I have a history of not knowing that certain music, movies, and TV shows are considered “cult classics” at best, and weren’t hugely famous outside of New York City where I grew up. In this internet age where everything is global, memeable, and potentially seen instantly by millions, it’s hard to believe that even a cultural mecca like NYC could have its local heroes not known to the outside world.
Joe Franklin was one. The affable late-night host of channel 9’s The Joe Franklin Show was omnipresent in NY culture, and was famous for having legit famous people on as guests - bands like The Ramones and once-beloved comedians like Bill Cosby, to name the two most obviously impressive examples.
But aside from the occasional SNL routine by Billy Crystal in the ‘80s or references on culture nerd friendly shows like The Simpsons, Joe Franklin never reached the heights of even Tom Snyder or David Letterman (whose show in the early years felt like a secret local cult broadcast).
Southside Johnny and the Asbury Jukes was another one. “We’re Having A Party” was played pretty widely on local radio. Oldies station WCBS FM being a big fan of using it to promote events, and that station was in play in every pizzeria, bodega, and store across the city. Do not underestimate the ability of The Impressions to put a crowd in a good mood almost instantly.
In hindsight, I should have known something was up - a late night staple on WCBS was “Don K. Reed’s Doo Wop Shop”, a show where Reed would play hours of doo wop - a form of music that by the 1980s was heard only on this station and in movies that needed you to know that they were set in the 1950s - and interview doo wop groups that consisted of neighborhood dudes who seemed to mostly hang out in a garage and drink beer and reminisce about the good old days.
As a kid, I never knew that A Christmas Story wasn’t considered a holiday classic by the wider world. A local theatre, the Elmwood,in Elmhurst, Queens (now a megachurch), did a free screening of the movie every Christmas morning for local kids. I have very vivid and happy memories of trudging across the crunching snow with my sister and my best friend James to see the movie.
I had no idea this was a local tradition - I just assumed that the studio went to the expense of sending out hundreds or thousands of prints for free nationwide and paid the studio whatever they lost in giving away tickets just to host free screenings. As an adult, I can only assume the theater never sent back the film cans, or no one came to pick them up, or someone at the theater paid the money to own their own print. In anycase, it was an incredibly kind thing for a small local theater owner to do.
The Jean Shepherd/Bob Clark film is one of those scrappy underdog stories that people with an interest in, but not an expertise about, movies love. Shepherd was a local New York cult hero whose books, short stories adapted from his late night radio monologues, stand as classic examples of arch, knowing American humor. Like Garrison Keillor on caffeine pills or Kurt Vonnegut on downers.
Bob Clark was a hit director, who broke into filmmaking with the exploitation cheapie She-Man, snaked through horror with Children Shouldn’t Play with Dead Things and the slasher classic Black Christmas, hitting it big with the 1981 adolescent sex comedy Porky’s.
Porky’s was what I call an “HBO Classic”, because it played on the Home Box Office all the time. Other HBO Classics included C.H.U.D. (Cannibalistic Humanoid Underground Dwellers) (an acronym I wrote from memory, FYI), Midnight Madness, that Rich Little one-man version of A Christmas Carol, David Lynch’s Dune, and the 15-minute making-of doc about the making ofThe Return of the Jedi that I watched every time it aired.
In addition, there were the 1983 dueling James Bond films, Never Say Never Again and Octopussy. One of the original producers of Thunderball, Kevin McClory, had held onto the movie rights to that book, which is a hell of a parting gift. He also had the exclusive rights to SPECTRE and Blofeld, which is why they didn’t appear in the Bond films until I think the Daniel Craig version. I’m writing this from memory so please correct me in the comments.
The movie also starred a much-older Sean Connery in a return to the role that he’d originated, and was helmed by Empire Strikes Back director Irvin Kershner. It was a disappointment for Bond fans and didn’t feature the iconic opening credits “gun barrel shot” or theme music that’s probably playing in your head right now.
The other 1983 Bond film, from “official” Bond studio EON films run by the Broccoli family, did feature those elements plus the current Bond, Roger Moore, who was somehow even older than Connery, tossing all Bond’s dignity into a garbage bin by appearing in a clown outfit and makeup for an extended sequence. Despite being the more fun movie, it was also considered a disappointment and was also a big hit.
I guess A Christmas Story didn’t catch on until it was played all day Christmas Eve through Boxing Day. Up until then, I had assumed it was a movie that everyone’s families watched and owned on VHS - back when those cost $49.99.
I grew up thinking the world revolved around whatever Channel 9 and the Elmwood Theater were showing - we didn’t even get into Jersey legend Uncle Floyd - so of course I assumed A Christmas Story was as big a deal as Bing Crosby or Santa himself. Turns out it was just us, a borrowed film print, and a theater owner who maybe “forgot” to return the cans. But that’s the magic of growing up in New York back then: you never knew if you were part of a grand tradition or just some local guy’s tax write-off. Either way, it felt like Christmas.
I understand that part of this blog’s charm is that it’s such a personal project, it feels like a cult project written just for you. But I promise I won’t change a thing if it gets popular, so don’t be scared to subscribe - it’s even free!
Share this essay with another geezer who saw A Christmas Story in the theater. Or watched Emmet Otter’s Jugband Christmas on HBO. Or flipped back and forth between cable channels to try to catch a picture on the softcore porn station.
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