Home Alone is a Dickensian, Supernatural Test of the McCallisters

A Fan Theory

This post is the first in a new series called Fan Theory Fridays, in which we will share and explore a new fan theory about a film, television series, book, or other fictional narrative. For more on what a fan theory is—and what it isn’t—please read D. F. Lovett’s previous explorations of the subject.

I thought I hated Home Alone.

So when a friend invited me to attend a matinee viewing of it at the new Parkway Theater in south Minneapolis, I wasn’t sure whether to accept. The idea of watching the film did not spark nostalgic giddiness or ironic snark, but more a sense of nameless dread that I would be trapped in a dark room for two hours with a swarm of squirming children and a few of my fellow childless buddies, wondering why we had thought this a good idea.

home-alone
Classic.

Of course, despite my dread, there were a few reasons I went. Namely: my friend had already bought the tickets and he assured me it would be “more hipsters than children”. That, and as he reminded me, “it’s a John Hughes movie with Joe Pesci, John Candy, and Katherine O’Hara in it.” Finally, I’m currently writing a novel partially set in the ‘90s and I thought it would be good to subject myself to a forced trip down memory lane.

Here’s the thing about Home Alone: I was pleasantly surprised. It’s a much better film than I remember it being and probably a better film than you remember it being. The plot structure should be taught in film school. The performances are sublime. The John Williams soundtrack is masterful.

There was, however, one thing that threw me off about the film: it was both much darker and more vaguely supernatural than I recalled it being.

I remembered the bed wetting subplot but had no memory of Kevin’s uncle calling him “a little jerk” or the objectively bad parenting that resulted in Kevin being left home alone in the first place. I remembered John Candy’s role as a polka king but had forgotten his haunting story about forgetting his own child in a funeral home for an entire day.

I remembered the scary old man and Buzz’s tall tale that he was a murderer or something. I did not remember that his name was Old Man Marley. I did not remember his story about being estranged from his son. I didn’t even remember him serving as a Deus Ex Machina, arriving to save Kevin from what would have been certain death at the hand of two bumbling crooks who, in the film’s final moments, escalate from cat burglars to attempted child murderers.

While Home Alone is indeed better than I remember it, that’s not what I’m writing about today.

I have come not to review Home Alone, but to theorize about it. And, specifically, the role played by Old Man Marley. Continue reading “Home Alone is a Dickensian, Supernatural Test of the McCallisters”

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A Hero Can Be Anyone: Reflections on the Loss of a Batman

You may have seen a sad news story about Lenny B. Robinson, a Maryland man who impersonated Batman to bring joy into the lives of children. Many referred to him as “The Route 29 Batman,” as he could often be seeing driving his Batmobile down this road, including when the police pulled him over and the moment was caught in a video that became viral. Several other news source have properly eulogized him, but I found it worth pausing to consider this legacy.

Lenny B. Robinson, at his home. Photo from The Washington Post, by Jonathan Newton.
Lenny B. Robinson, at his home. Photo from The Washington Post, by Jonathan Newton.

A few years ago, I wrote about the phenomenon of men in our world dressing as the hero of Gotham. I suggested that perhaps the greatest thing that makes someone Batman is tragedy, citing specifically the example of Zoltan Nohari, a man living in poverty, hoping to help the police in Slovakia.

But pondering the death of Robinson, I wondered if Batman’s defining characteristic is the exact thing that Robinson brought into the world: hope.  Continue reading “A Hero Can Be Anyone: Reflections on the Loss of a Batman”

Why Bale Should Have a Twitter Account

Twitter is sometimes amusing.  This might be the best you can say for it.  It’s rarely informative, regularly frustrating, and the “trending topics” reveal its ability to be a cesspool for intolerance, ignorance, and misinformation.

However, as I said, it’s amusing.  Entertaining.  Especially when you “follow” the right people.  Yes, you have to be certain that you follow a “verified account” when following a celebrity, and yes, most of them have nothing interesting to say. But some of them do have things to say… and what they have to say is completely bonkers.

Now, I realize that there is almost no chance that Christian Bale will ever get a twitter account – the man loves his privacy and rarely even does interviews.  And when he does, he says things like “The interesting thing about a movie is the movie.” Continue reading “Why Bale Should Have a Twitter Account”