What Makes a Holiday Movie Nostalgic?

By: Alexandra Krasilovsky ‘27

The market for holiday movies, particularly Christmas films, continues to rise over time. While the grandparents of current college students may not remember watching movie after movie about Santa, the first winter snow, and the spirit of giving in their childhood, their descendants definitely do. People tend to have specific preferences for “flavors” of Christmas movies, often shaped by what they watched most as a child. These range in forms of media, use of music, time period of creation, and common themes. Some of my favorites have always been produced by Rankin/Bass Productions, and I believe them to be the perfect nostalgic brand of Christmas movie. 

Rankin/Bass was a production company based in the United States, creating programming from the mid-1960s through the late 1990s with a special focus on animated seasonal TV specials. Many of our parents grew up in the boom of Rankin/Bass, and prior to streaming services becoming widespread, these annual specials would air for DVRs across the country. I found myself able to recognize the company, even unconsciously, as a kid, because of their attention to detail and beautifully designed stop-motion animation. To me, their films looked like someone playing with dolls (minus the hands puppeteering them). Every time one of their movies was suggested or aired unexpectedly, I was glued to the screen.

Image Courtesy of Screen Rant.

What I didn’t know back then was the incredible communication and work that it took for these productions to exist. Most of the outsourcing of Rankin/Bass’s animation was done by Japanese animators, who were able to sketch an original, uniquely styled movie every year for about three decades. While most of the movies I watched were Christmas-themed, the company created quite a few scripts referencing other famous stories or ideas not rooted in the Christmas atmosphere. These included “The Cricket on the Hearth,” “Mad Mad Mad Monsters,” “Willie Mays and the Say-Hey Kid,” and “The Wind in the Willows,” to name a few. Rankin/Bass specialized in these treasured films for children and their families, providing a positive and artistic depiction of fantastical worlds unlike the Disney movies many of us were used to.

While the company itself is wonderful, what truly piqued my curiosity was the fondness that most Christmas celebrators hold for Rankin/Bass over other popular holiday movie producers. It seems to me that in comparison to the Hallmark Channel, DreamWorks Animation, and even Disney, Rankin/Bass has remained timeless, beloved, and deeply nostalgic for the holiday season to all who watched it. The practical effects and set building, which have now been greatly overlooked in the film industry in favor of CGI or AI implementation, remind viewers of humbler beginnings and hardworking artists who crafted their vision from the ground up. Maury Laws, the most famous composer to work for Rankin/Bass, created catchy, warmly produced scores that seem to remain in people’s minds decades later. Something about Rankin/Bass’s movies feel more real than others, despite their obvious status as stop-motion or traditional animation. The writing is simplistic but genuine, the messages are simple and focused on being a good person above subscribing to a religion or code, and the visuals are stunning.

As a side note, “The Year Without a Santa Claus” used to terrify me. I refused to watch it, entirely due to how scary I found the Heat and Snow Misers, whom none of these positive sentiments applied to me. In doing some research on this article, I found that “The Year Without a Santa Claus” is arguably one of the general public’s favorite Rankin/Bass movies, to which I wholeheartedly disagree. “Jack Frost,” “Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town,” “‘Twas the Night Before Christmas,” and “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” all hold a special place in my heart and will absolutely be the movies I hope future generations enjoy during the holiday season. “The Snow Miser Song” and “The Heat Miser Song” can be left out of the equation, if you ask me.