I grew up in 90s Birmingham, conceivably the least magical time and place in human history. As much as I love my home town, it was basically a big grey sprawl complete with relentlessly dreary weather – a place that peaked during the Industrial Revolution (the splashy regeneration projects of the 00s were a decade or more away). Santa did visit us, but it can’t have been the highlight of his night. And yet it didn’t really matter at Christmas, because I had Christmas films. With the press of the remote control, my living room would be filled with a warm, festive glow that would somehow project out to brighten the whole city.
There is endless debate about what constitutes a Christmas movie, but for me it’s always been any film that – even in passing – projects a vision of Christmas more romantic than Christmas in 90s Birmingham, ie almost anything.
