The Changing of the Christmas Guard

It happens every single time I go to NY. My first morning walk past Radio City Music Hall brings back so many memories. And sadness.

You can already see the decorations for the upcoming Christmas Spectacular, which inexplicably starts just one week after Halloween. You'll get those big toy soldiers lined up on top of the marquee. The cannon fires and knocks them down. And the throngs will show up from all over the country by the busload to spend 75 bucks for 90 minutes of alleged entertainment.

I remember taking my pseudo-nephew to this about 15 years ago. I was trying to connect to some divine passage of time. Christmas at Radio City. I used to be the kid being taken there for the sheer exhileration of the season. Now I'm the adult, taking a child for the same experience.

He came out of it all as bored as I was.

The ninety minutes blew by like a decade. The show was so badly paced you would think the Pentagon was staging it. And, except for the forever reliable Rockettes, the overall production was extremely unprofessional with some of the cheapest production values this side of Jack Benny. They even managed to make the birth of Jesus Christ uninteresting. I remember that, right in the middle of the Nativity scene, my ten year-old pseudo nephew turned to me and said loudly, "Is this over yet?"

Yet, to this day, people flock to Radio City Music Hall every Christmas as if it had the healing powers of Lourdes. And they don't even know how good it could be.

Holding a parent's hand while standing in the cold trenches of 50th Street. You didn't feel the chill. There was the warmth of the hall awaiting you. As the Salvation Army bells chimed on the corner, you would enter the grand foyer and it would be a Christmas decorated sight like no other. I would stand in ten year-old awe. Who could imagine such splendor?

And then you'd enter into the auditorium. With Christmas carols being played by that magnificent organ that slide in and out of the wall. Goosebumps by the barrel.

And then you would see a movie. Usually some cinematic entertainment that was specially selected for the Hall's Christmas offering. Take a look at this list of Radio City Music Hall Christmas films going back to 1942. This is what dreams are made of.

1942: You Were Never Lovelier.

1943: Madame Curie.

1944: National Velvet.

1945: Bells of St. Mary's.

1946: Till The Clouds Roll By.

1947: Good News.

1948: Words and Music.

1949: On The Town.

1950: Kim.

1951: I'll See You in My Dreams.

1952: Million Dollar Mermaid.

1953: Easy to Love.

1954: Deep In My Heart.

1955: Kismet.

1956: Teahouse of the August Moon.

1957: Sayonara.

1958: Auntie Mame.

1959: Operation Petticoat.

1960: The Sundowners.

1961: Babes in Toyland.

1962: Jumbo.

1963: Charade.

1964: Father Goose.

1965:That Darn Cat.

1966: Follow Me, Boys.

1967: The Happiest Millionaire.

1968: The Impossible Years.

1969: A Boy Named Charlie Brown.

1970: Scrooge.

1971: Bedknobs and Broomsticks.

1972: 1776.

1973: Robin Hood.

1974: The Little Prince.

1975: The Sunshine Boys.

Okay, there are some duds in that bunch. But, still, it was more than enough for a smile. And, coupled with a 30 minute well-crafted stage show that prominently featured the Rockettes, you came away with the ultimate holiday memory.

Probably for less than 5 bucks a person.

In the murder of movie theater glory in New York, Radio City Music Hall is the most tragic victim.

It's just a memory for me now. But, there is still one place that gets it right. Every day of the year. And especially at Christmas time.

The El Capitan on Hollywood Boulevard is a revered long time movie palace that Disney has smartly restored to its previous sheen. Sure, it's a money-making outlet for whatever movie Disney is trying to push at any given time. But, throughout the year, it is movie going nirvana. A glorious theater, complete with balcony, that takes you to the lofty heights once only attained by Radio City Music Hall. An organist popping in and out of the stage between shows. And some Disney-on-steroids stage show with some leftover performers from the Electrical Parade down in Anaheim. Usually no more than 15 minutes. Corny as hell, but as warm and comfortable as the oldest sweater in your drawer. Then, you see your movie and your smile is complete. They even literally and figuratively put the cherry on the sundae by opening up an ice cream parlor adjacent to the theater.

I was there at the El Capitan last Christmas for "The Santa Clause 3." Certainly not a movie I would have seen normally (okay, the addition of Martin Short in the cast helped). But, the stage show gave you snow. The glittery Christmas trees on both sides of the theater gave you hope. And the whole evening gave me back my youth.

If I closed my eyes, I could feel the hand of my mom or dad as they escorted me up the staircase from the D train.

Christmas, indeed.

Dinner last night: Linguini and sundried tomatoes, black olives, and broccoli.