I finished the annual viewing of It’s A Wonderful Life several weeks ago, of course (it’s a Christmas Eve tradition), but wanted to write a little on what I noticed this time around. One of my favorite things about this film is how many repeat viewings it can withstand; I literally don’t ever watch it without noticing some new moment or detail. It’s an incredibly fully-realized story-world.
This time, perhaps because I’ve been watching the working man’s rage draw closer and closer to a boiling point with recent events, I observed a thing or two about everyone’s favorite Grinch, Mr. Potter. Of course, he’s worse than just a Grinch; the film makes it clear that Mr. Potter’s domination of Bedford Falls’ economy is actually, materially dangerous to its citizens, which in turn increases the heroism of our man George Bailey. Watching them battle is one of the chief pleasures of the film, ever more gratifying the older I get and the more knowledgeable about worldly issues. Jimmy Stewart’s poignant pleas for just a little decency for the working man soothe a sense of complaint that still rankles, ever more so because it’s never directly addressed in contemporary society, squelched by the super-charged corporate behemoth. “Is it too much to have them work and pay and live and die in a couple of decent rooms and a bath?” is the barest, most honest of requests, one that any viewer would have trouble looking down on.
Mr. Potter, of course, remains obdurate. Lionel Barrymore perfects an expression of utter implacability, as though his body is a shield repelling George Bailey’s outflowing of emotion. (I tried to find the best picture to represent this.) At several points in the film, both George and his father Peter speculate on why Potter is such a “hard character.” The conclusion they come up with is that Potter is “sick in his mind, sick in his soul if he has one” and George adds, to Potter’s face, that Potter is “talking about something you can’t get your fingers on, and it’s galling you.” This seems to be the conclusion of the film as well: that Potter is missing something essential in his life, which the Baileys have in spades. That is, love and community.
This is all pretty clear from watching the film, but what struck me this time was that it’s not at all clear that any of that speculation about Potter is actually true. There is zero indication in the film that what Mr. Potter really wants is to be loved, like the Grinch or Ebeneezer Scrooge. Perhaps, you could argue, this is because Potter has never experienced anyone being loving toward him, and therefore doesn’t know what he’s missing out on; that could be a valid argument. I could easily imagine a spin-off movie about Potter which attempts to psychologize and locate his trauma, thereby “unlocking” his sense of kindness. Thankfully, the film doesn’t go anywhere in this direction (so there’s at least one way in which it is realistic and not overly sentimental).
Because of this personality difference (or whatever you want to call it), the on-screen ideological battles between George and Potter are massively one-sided. Only one of the parties in the argument really tries to make a case; the other side just folds his arms and frowns. Potter not only doesn’t care about George’s lofty ideas of decency and camaraderie, he doesn’t dignify them with any kind of response, let alone an equally impassioned one. The way Lionel Barrymore plays Potter, he is not a man without passion; his stony face is often animated with amusement or chagrin. He just doesn’t, for most of the film, care to engage in the verbal back-and-forth, except for the part when he calls George a “warped, frustrated young man.” His battle is not one of words; it’s one of pure, cold capital.
If what the Baileys believed was true, that Potter just needs love and community to make him less of a “hard character,” this would be a hopeful vision; in fact, it would seem to solve the vast majority of relationship problems. Throw love at someone, and watch them become kind. But I see no indication that this is the case with Potter. It looks more like the Baileys projecting their moral values onto a person who has nothing to do with them at all. In truth, Potter doesn’t care a whit about winning a moral victory. The only time he seems to have any feeling about the Baileys besides sneering dismissal and annoyance is when he sees George in real financial trouble near the end of the film. At this point, Potter comes alive with competitive fervor, like a shark activated by the hint of blood (“Happy New Year to you – in jail!”). Finally, his war might be won: George might be financially ruined and have no chance of interfering with Potter’s takeover of the economy.
The mischaracterization of Potter by the Baileys struck me as an important lesson, namely the futility of trying to fight a moral battle against a party whose priorities and values are not even in the same universe as yours. Many of us find ourselves drowning in outrage every time we open the news or social media, exposed to points of view that seem so abhorrent as to be impossible. We expect our own values to triumph, simply because they are our values and therefore self-evidently good. The result is that we give away too much energy to this outrage, or we twist ourselves into pretzels trying to understand and empathize, rather than simply dealing with the facts as they are. This emotional energy would be far better used to nurture and tend to our own moral values, and to extend them where they might meet an open recipient. Potter is not such a person.
As long as the Baileys can’t truly understand Potter’s lack of interest in anything but financial victory, and continue to consider him part of the same moral universe (albeit on the opposite side), he wins. The movie resolves with one of the most touching scenes of all time, a loving community coming together (one can only dream of such a thing happening these days!), and leaves us to assume that Potter is sitting, defeated and lonely, in his cold office. But Potter as he is portrayed in this film is immune to such “sentimental hogwash.” Rather, he’s probably being rolled around his cold office, planning his next move, invigorated by the new level of challenge before him.
paradoxography 