From The
Dialy Dot:
There’s a specter
haunting National
Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation—the specter of
communism.
Some of our most
vaunted Christmas movies assail the very underpinnings of the consumerist
machine churning furiously at the heart of this season of consumption for consumption’s
sake. A
Charlie Brown Christmas provides little more
than a takedown of Christmas consumerism with a thin religious veil. A Christmas Carol, in all its cinematic iterations, gives a downright
hostile perspective of the supremacy of capital, positing that a more equitable
society can only be achieved through threat of life and limb against the monied
class. It’s
a Wonderful Life displays an ice-cold
capitalist predator threatening the well being of working families, featuring
George Bailey, the people’s hero.
But no holiday film
confronts the vicious class struggle created and inflamed by the logic of
capital better than Christmas Vacation, wherein the capitalist dream—the American
dream—becomes skewered, mocked, and vilified amid cartoonish hijinks and Chevy Chase ’s goofball one-liners. Watch Christmas Vacation through a critical lens and you’ll see that it’s
not just a source of holiday lulz, but a Marxist critique of capitalism and
class struggle in the United
States .
Such a critique goes
best with eggnog served in a moose head-shaped glass, naturally.
Clark Griswold: The pitiable chaser
of the American dream—and all its hollow, materialistic promise. Griswold
represents what’s known in Marxist literature as the petty bourgeoisie, a sort
of in-between class that shares some interests with the lowly proletariat, but
often aligns itself with the bourgeoises, or capitalist ruling class. Clark, an
inventor working for a giant U.S.
corporation, belongs to a class of small proprietors and handicrafts folks
living more comfortably than the proletariat, but still far from the power and
luxury of the bourgeois life. Clark ’s
allegiances, therefore, constantly divide. The internal struggle is at the
source of much of the movie’s comedy, as Clark
strives for what he believes to be a classic Christmastime—the one he
experienced as a child in the 1950s. Almost everything he does is a strategic
move to exit the petty bourgeoisie and join the rulers in their mansions and
gated communities; cozying up to those above him on the class ladder, pandering
to them, kissing their asses.
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