068: December in New York
Scenes of the season
One of my earliest and fondest childhood memories is Christmastime in London. In the lead up to Christmas, it had become a tradition for my parents to pack our tiny Mazda with me, my cousins, my aunt, and uncle, and we’d set off from our home in South London in the evening to see the lights and window displays along Oxford Street, and to take in the festive wonder that was Hamleys toy shop.
Despite the biting cold and the SADs, December is my favourite time of the year. I love seeing Christmas trees lit up in the windows of peoples’ homes, the same decades-old seasonal music playing in shops and restaurants (and my home), and hot chocolate walks. When my husband and I lived near Downtown Brooklyn, we’d take frequent walks through Brooklyn Heights to “rate” exterior Christmas decorations on a scale of 1 to 10 Jingle Bells – 10 being the highest order of Jingle Bells – then head into Dumbo for a hot chocolate treat to reward a walk well done. No matter how the rest of the year may have panned out, whether utterly dreadful or just fine, the romance of Christmas makes the impending send-off ever so bittersweet, and all I wish to do is to make the very most of what time remains.
My taste for New York, like most yearning for this city, was informed early on by films like Home Alone II and Breakfast at Tiffany’s, the usual suspects. In my imagination, New York was a magical place, loud and bright and frenetic, and Christmastime in New York was certainly unparalleled. The first time I visited New York as an adult was when I was 20 years old. My parents and I drove up from Maryland during the Christmas break for two days and stayed with relatives. We had no clue of where to go or what to do, but I knew names like Soho, Broadway, Fifth Avenue, Tiffany’s, and Central Park. I was far too intimidated to enter Tiffany’s, but my mother was hell-bent on getting a photo of me by the entrance of the store. I look self-conscious and embarrassed in the photo, mainly because I was wearing so many layers to keep warm, producing the effect of a marshmallow, and not looking terribly chic in an incredible Givenchy gown and tiara.
Before heading back home during that trip, my parents and I drove into Soho, no address, just “Soho”. It was Christmas evening and all the shops were closed, the streets exceptionally quiet, but for the few minutes we walked around the area, I felt as though The Greatest Thing in the World had happened to me. At the time, I had so desperately wanted a Kate Spade bracelet with a fun and a silly phrase engraved, but couldn’t afford to do so on my pitiful sales associate salary. We went up to the store on Broome Street anyway just so I could peer in through the windows to satiate my desire. Who knew at the time I would be spending the past eleven Christmases living in New York!
Each November, I make a list of things I’d like to do in December. The list is almost identical to that of previous years, but nonetheless it feels essential to jot down, and it always begins and ends with movies in which Christmas is a guest star, interspersed with hot chocolate walks (Thierry Atlan is currently preferential), a bold and mad attempt at viewing the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center, breakfast at The Odeon (the booths by the kitchen if one is blessed), and the sounds of the Vince Guaraldi Trio. Without further ado, some of my favourite Christmas films set in New York, where the season is unparalleled!
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Moonstruck (1987)
A few nights ago I rewatched Moonstruck. It is easily my absolute favourite romantic comedy of all time. One of the challenges of this genre, I think, is holding on to one without betraying the other, maintaining symbiosis so that both the romance and comedy elements have equal time in the spotlight without seeming controlled or deliberate. While watching Moonstruck, however, I find myself swooning and laughing out loud at the same time.
Cher plays the pragmatic Loretta Castorini who accepts like instead of love in her life after spell of Bad Luck. That is of course, until she falls under the spell of la bella luna! and is quite literally swept off her feet by Nicholas Cage’s Ronny Cammareri while she exclaims, mystified by her own fate, “Oh god! I don’t care! I don’t care! Take me, take me to the bed!” Loretta’s long skirts and sensible grey herringbone coat are replaced by a burgundy velvet and taffeta dress and red heels, a transformative moment in the character’s development visually mapped out by costume designer Theoni V. Aldredge. Aldredge also worked on a film that made me dream of becoming a glamorous divorcée at the age of six (and the first film I remember seeing at a movie theater; my parents did some things right!) - The First Wives Club.
Ronny Cammareri is a sensitive and petulant opera-loving baker with one wood hand who has also had a spell of Bad Luck. Ronny flips tables one moment and makes bedroom eyes the next, looks devastating in a tuxedo, and he has few loves, but that which is loves, he does so passionately, hilariously. One of the greatest lines in Moonstruck is when he bellows, “I ain’t no freakin’ monument to justice!” In this household, we love Ronny – the character’s love for the opera, the Puccini soundtrack, and the shots of the Lobmeyr chandeliers at the Metropolitan Opera inspired my husband and I to go see La Bohème earlier this year.
While the presence of a Christmas tree is conspicuously missing from the Castorini household, scenes of New York, the shops, and the restaurants, are peppered with wreaths and poinsettias and festive lights. There are shots of Hicks Street and the Castorini home is on Cranberry Street, both of which were part of our former hot chocolate walk route.
Falling in Love (1984)
For something that doesn’t tug quite so much on the heartstrings, Falling in Love is an excellent Christmas-in-New York comfort film. At the time of the film’s release, several critics were frustrated and comically upset over how the stars of Sophie’s Choice and Taxi Driver had wound up in a cozy easy-viewing romance, but I’m not one to complain. There are fewer pleasures in life than watching Meryl Streep shrug and Robert De Niro play a romantic, with Christmas in New York as the guest star, from the comfort of one’s home on a freezing cold evening. The former Rizzoli location is the site of the duo’s meet-cute, and Grand Central Station and the Metro-North serves as the conduit for their romance, and there are plentiful walks down, in, and around Fifth Avenue, Saks, and Chinatown. What more could you need?
Carol (2016)
I can no longer recall just how many times I’ve watched Todd Haynes’s Carol. It is absolutely one of the most beautiful love stories captured on film, right up there with Wong Kar-wai’s In the Mood for Love and Jane Campion’s Bright Star. There isn’t one thing I don’t love about this film, from the swell of Carter Burwell’s score, to Sandy Powell’s costume design and the way Cate Blanchett’s Carol Aid pronounces “Harge” and “Therese”, and of course, Christmastime in New York.
My husband recently bought a limited release Collector’s Edition blu-ray of Carol from a French video publisher for “us”, but really it’s a gift for me. The package just arrived and it comes with a vinyl of the score as well as songs from the film by artists such as Billie Holiday and The Clovers; a look-book that catalogs visual inspiration (department stores and fashions from the 1950s, stunning pops of red, and Noel Coward’s Brief Encounter); a 100-page book with an introduction by Todd Haynes for which I’ll have to bring my horrendous French out from retirement in order to read; a poster; a letter of reconciliation to Therese from one Mrs. Hargess Aird of Ridgewood, NJ, and “photos” of Carol by Therese.
While I was recovering from surgery in the summer, I re-read The Price of Salt by Patricia Highsmith and finished it in one sitting. The book and film take different twists and turns, but in both instances I emerge in a daze, tears fresh and heart full. I realize that there aren’t very many books set during Christmas – some might argue the Bible but I personally find it a bit cumbersome to fit in my handbag – but I would definitely recommend it to anyone in search of a seasonal read.
Until next time!
Wonderful writeup! That line about rating decorations on a jingle bell scale while doing hot chocolate walks is gold. The whole piece makes December feel less like somethign to endure and more like an intentional practice of noticing small magic. Carol really does belong in that pantheon of films where the seasonal setting becomes part of hte love story itself.