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How Frank Capra’s “It’s a Wonderful Life” became a Christmas classic

How Frank Capra’s “It’s a Wonderful Life” became a Christmas classic

Alamy A still from It's A Wonderful Life (Source: Alamy)Alamy

Frank Capra’s “It’s a Wonderful Life” was published in 1946 and was derided as an “over-sentimental” Christmas yarn. “In History” explores the profound exploration of mental health, societal expectations, and the healing power of community that resonates today.

In the eight decades since its release, “It’s a Wonderful Life” has become an inviolable part of the holidays. James Stewart plays George Bailey, a savings and loan manager who contemplates taking his own life until an angel shows him a vision of how much worse off his town and loved ones would be if he had never been born. Due to a church oversight, the film’s copyright expired in 1974 and subsequent television broadcasts cemented its film reputation Christmas classics. And yet, in 1974, director Frank Capra still had to defend himself against accusations of “excessive sentimentality”.

“I think it was probably the most powerful picture I’ve ever made,” Capra told a BBC reporter on an episode of Film Extra. “I think it’s my favorite film because it sums up everything I’ve wanted to say in all the other films in one package.”

“It’s my favorite film.” It embodies everything I’ve tried to express in other films.

Upon its release in 1946, Bosley Crowther of The New York Times criticized It’s a Wonderful Life for its tone, noting that “the weakness of this picture lies in its sentimentality.” Capra’s previous filmmaking was similarly tied to sentimental, idealized versions of US life. Works such as Mr Deeds Goes to Town and Mr Smith Goes to Washington were referred to as “Capra corn” because of their sweet, unassuming nature. But while It’s a Wonderful Life ends with the pure-hearted George prevailing against the greedy Mr. Potter (Lionel Barrymore), the film reveals the dark, unspoken struggles of the common man. In a time of male stoicism where mental health went largely undiscussed, Stewart’s portrayal of George’s despair explored themes of anxiety, depression and feelings of personal failure.

The regular everyman he played was also a departure from his previous heroic roles and marked the change in his personality both on screen and off. In 1973 he described his Persona on screen on Michael Parkinson’s chat show. “I am the slob. I’m the inarticulate man trying. I’m a pretty good example of real human weakness. I don’t really have all the answers. I have very few answers, but for some reason, somehow I manage.

George’s specific personal struggles may not have been shared by Stewart, but as a veteran recently returned from World War II, the actor had his own mental health struggles. “It’s the first picture I took after I left the service,” Stewart told the BBC audience in 1972. It would be nearly four decades before post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) was included in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM). Veterans were often diagnosed with “shell shock” or “battle fatigue” and faced many difficulties reintegrating into civilian life.

“I broke down sobbing”

In a time of stiff upper lips, Stewart’s performance was vulnerable, emotionally honest and sometimes devastating. Near the beginning of the film, George prays for help while drinking in a bar in the fictional town of Bedford Falls, New York – and begins to cry. He considers himself a failure. After a lifetime of putting aside his personal dreams and making sacrifice after sacrifice, he has lost all self-esteem.

George’s tears in this scene were Stewart’s own, real and unplanned. He later explained in a 1987 retrospective for Guideposts: “As I said those words, I felt the loneliness, the hopelessness of people who had nowhere to turn, and my eyes filled with tears. I broke down sobbing.” Stewart’s authentic feelings transcend the stigmas of his time. George’s inability to seek help and his overwhelming sense of failure reflected a time when emotional problems were viewed as shameful or insignificant. But what was once dismissed as sentimentality finds new and greater appreciation in today’s conversations about mental health.

Mary Hatch Bailey (Donna Reed), George’s childhood sweetheart and devoted wife, also reflects the role expected of her at the time, acting largely according to traditional notions of femininity. Like George, she is a selfless individual who makes many of the same sacrifices as her husband and helps him in any way she can. But while we follow George’s life, setbacks and inner turmoil, Mary’s life remains unexplored. Unlike the prominent women in previous Capra films who assert their independence, Mary is a force of quiet, unwavering support. She plays a crucial role in George’s rescue, but her efforts go unnoticed. The film’s attitude towards women can also be seen in Mary’s fate in the alternate reality where George was never born. In nightmarish Pottersville, where death, greed and abuse have befallen George’s closest friends, Mary’s supposedly terrible life is simply that of an unmarried, bespectacled librarian.

The other most prominent women in the film, George’s mother and his childhood friend, follow the same societal expectations. Irene Bailey (Beulah Bondi) is a steadfast mother with little screen time, while flirtatious vixen Violet Bick (Gloria Grahame) serves as a foil to the responsible, honorable Mary. After George’s outburst to his frightened family, it is Mary who encourages them Children to pray for him. In this way, she is directly involved in the divine intervention he experiences in the form of Clarence Odbody, the wingless angel.

WATCH: “We sat down and he said, ‘Now this picture begins in heaven.'” That shocked me.

But Mary is not alone. Clarence is sent to George because of the prayers of everyone he touched during his life in Bedford Falls. In this way, Clarence is an expression of the support and kindness that George showed the city. His redemption finally comes in the final scene when his family and friends arrive to ease his financial burden. At this crucial moment, his problems are alleviated by the community he helped build. This cathartic act illustrates the profound healing power of community and a sense of belonging.

It’s a Wonderful Life explored the toll of sacrifice, the waves of kindness, and the redemption that human relationships provide at a time when films tended to emphasize optimism over psychological complexity. George’s doubts about his own self-worth, made authentic through Stewart’s portrayal, resonate in today’s world with its ongoing challenges of mental health, economic hardship and societal pressures. By looking at his life from a different perspective, sharing his burdens, and accepting the help of his community, George accepts the truth. He is not alone, his life was not in vain and he is not worthless. As his brother Harry says in a toast at the end of the film, George Bailey is “the richest man in town.”

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