Debate over? On Her Majesty’s Secret Service IS a Christmas film
It’s fun to debate the extent to which action movies like Die Hard and On Her Majesty’s Secret Service are ‘Christmas films’. But, in my mind, there is no debate. They are unequivocally Christmas films because they embody the ambivalence of the season: darkness mixed with light; sadness with joy; looking death in the face and, ultimately, choosing to live.
If we set the bar for entry into the canon of ‘Christmas films’ as low as merely having the story being set at Christmas time, we open the floodgates. I’m allergic to any form of gatekeeping, but I’m sure we can all think of films which merely exploit the heightened emotions of the Christmas period for dramatic impact. I’m especially thinking of the Hallmark films and their ilk, some of which are perfectly watchable and others less so. The weaker examples use Christmas cliches like liberal amounts of tinsel, covering over the cracks in the screenplay that would have been better filled by giving it another couple of drafts. Acceptable as such films may be for festive viewing after a few too many mulled wines, few of them bear rewatching once the decorations are down and Dry January is making us question our life choices.
A good Christmas film should bear rewatching even in the height of summer. Whatever the time of year or the temperature outside, a good Christmas film should be perennially capable of giving us a ‘Christmassy feeling’.
The problem is, how Christmas feels is highly subjective.
For the majority of people around the world, Christmas is just another day. At least half our planet’s population don’t even celebrate it and merrily (or not) carry on with their usual business. But for people who do live in countries where it’s a national holiday, it’s usually something to look forward to. Properly kept in perspective, Christmas can be a joyful time. Even so, fans of Christmas still need to keep their guard up: the chief villains here are the pressure to make everything ‘perfect’ (especially on the day itself) and the worst excesses of consumerism. But as long as things don’t get out of hand, it’s more often than not a nice opportunity to get together with people who you might not see very often.
For many, a ‘Christmassy feeling’ is the antithesis of loneliness. So many great Christmas films end with whole families (genetic or chosen) and communities coming together. This is perhaps best exemplified by the closing of that perennial Christmas classic (which works just as well when watched in July), It’s A Wonderful Life, with the central character surrounded by everyone whose life his own has impacted. But let’s not forget that the central drama of this film – and the reason it’s such a brilliant Christmas film - is a man being brought back from the brink of suicide.
Contrary to popular myth, suicide rates do not spike over the Christmas season. Here in the UK, the Office for National Statistics data shows the same pattern year on year: suicide rates stay stable in December – but they do increase significantly in January.
Whether this has anything to do with Christmas or not, let’s not downplay how challenging the period can be for many. For some, Christmas can be a much needed pick-me-up. But for others, the pressure to put on a show (be happy; it’s Christmas!) and pretend everything is ok can exacerbate underlying issues.
Any Christmas film worthy of being hailed as a classic needs to embrace this complexity, folding in the multitude of audience responses to the season itself. This is why Die Hard – a film whose status as a Christmas film becomes less contested with each passing year – works so brilliantly. At its core, it’s about a man who spends most of Christmas Eve on his own, battling both terrorists (correction: thieves) and his inner demons in order to reconnect with the person in the world who means the most to him. The ending is a happy one, but only after Bruce Willis has been put through the physical and emotional mill. Many – especially the people in their households responsible for making Christmas as happy for everyone else as possible - can surely relate to a bone-weary Bruce Willis as he limps, blood-shod, into the final showdown with Alan Rickman. [If we stretch this metaphor, you could replace ‘Alan Rickman’ here with your most difficult-to-please relative. I’ll let you work that one out for yourself. Yippee-ki-yay!]
On Her Majesty’s Secret Service is another brilliant Christmas film, with the same narrative trajectory of Die Hard – a lonely man battles both bad guys and his inner demons in order to make a connection with someone who has come to mean the world to him. The only difference between Die Hard and On Her Majesty’s Secret Service in this regard is the latter film’s shattering coda, with poor Bond being parted from Tracy with shocking, although inevitable, alacrity.
But let’s not rule out On Her Majesty’s Secret Service as a Christmas film just yet. After all, there are probably very few of us who can say, hand on heart, that we’ve never had a bad Christmas. Hopefully, few of you reading this have had one as bad as Bond’s. But I would imagine many of you have had things happen to you – or your loved ones – which have led to Christmas having less-than-entirely joyful associations.
I once came close to killing myself at Christmas. And although this was almost half a lifetime ago now, the approach of the festive day itself still makes me feel a degree of apprehension. Apprehension and embarrassment.
Nearly two decades down the line, I’m in a vastly better place mentally and I can’t help but cringe at my younger self deciding that his only way out was to end it all. I’m embarrassed for the distress I caused to others at the time. I take some solace in the statistics; almost all suicide attempts are not the result of rational decision-making. And that Christmas, I was quite literally not in my right mind.
At some point, I’ll find the courage to write in more depth about the experience. But for now, you can get an idea of what state my head was in when I tell you that by far the highlight of that particular Christmas day was me reading in my bedroom the complete unexpurgated four hour version of Shakespeare’s Hamlet from cover to cover – twice.
Ridiculous, I know. I know now at least, hindsight being a wonderful thing. And yes, I’m embarrassed even telling you this. But I also feel grateful, in a weird way, for the experience of almost ending my own life at Christmastime, because it gave me a window into how others might be feeling around this time of year.
Christmas can be – and for many is – a joyful time. But for others, it appears with the tedious inevitability of an unloved season. However you feel about Christmas, December 25th will come – and it will also go. Happy (or not - you're licensed to feel however you feel) Christmas.
With love,
David, December 2024
Suicide is preventable.
If you or someone you know is experiencing suicidal thoughts, Google ‘suicide’ and your local services will appear as the top result.
This year, we’ve been raising money for Papyrus – Prevention of Young Suicide, who run a 24 hour hopeline.
Find out more and donate here: https://www.justgiving.com/page/licencetoqueer-timetodonate
