Every. Time.
No matter how many times I watch the 1946 film, It’s a Wonderful Life, I cry like a little girl, or the Cowardly Lion.
I love everything about this film - every single thing. Jimmy Stewart - come on. Donna Reed. Buffalo Bills, won’t ya come out tonight… Clarence… Zuzu… Tommy… “Excuse you for what???” “I burped.”
I love the higher human lessons portrayed in the ordinary life of an ordinary man like George Bailey, choosing others before himself over and over again, making a lifestyle of it, building a character from it.
There are 4 minutes in the film which serve as a remarkable microcosmic snapshot of human nature: the run on the bank on George and Mary’s wedding day. Dozens of Bailey Building & Loan customers come in a panic when the Bedford Falls Bank has closed. It’s Depression time: people are out of work. The bank won’t open for days; there are bills to pay, mouths to feed.
A time of universal fear and uncertainty always brings out the bottom feeders: enter Mr. Potter, a two-bit despot who has made a vocation of capitalizing on his neighbors’ misfortunes.
George Bailey manages to rally his neighbors when his bride offers their own hard-earned honeymoon money to tide everyone over until the bank reopens. And thus begins Frank Capra’s most insightful lesson on human nature.
We see very different kinds of people in the next few minutes. First we have Tom, who somehow can’t manage to read the room. He can’t be swayed; his mind is made up. He’s worried about his own concerns, and it’s immaterial to him that this is someone’s private property and not even his own principal in the business. If you’ve seen the movie as much as I have, you can probably hear him chirping repeatedly like a stubborn little cockatoo, “I’ll take two hundred and forty-two dollars!”
Next: there’s the likes of Ed, who, like most humans, follows the lead of Tom, and asks for his full balance. But George can convince him to be reasonable and think about making that $2000 last for everyone in the room. He ends up taking $20. George mutters, “Well, now we’re getting somewhere.”
Third: Mrs. Thompson, completely cognizant of the sacrifice George and Mary are making, also follows the lead of Ed before her, and asks for $20.
And finally, we have Miss Davis. This is always where my tears start, long before the final denouement of the movie. My heart and tear ducts catch every single time I hear that sweet little lady say, “Can I have $17.50?”
Every. Time.
When I watch this scene, I find myself asking myself: who are you? Whom do you wanna be? Who are you becoming? Can you only see your own needs? Or are you becoming increasingly capable of choosing to sacrifice for someone else?
This is the true meaning of looking out for “the greater good” - a phrase that’s become truly cringe-worthy for me. The way that thinking is applied now, someone decides what the greater good is for someone else, besides himself, rarely if ever sacrificing himself.
These few golden minutes of one of my all-time favorite films has become a profound human nature quiz for me. Who am I? And do I like who I am
becoming?
I think I wanna be Miss Davis when I grow up.
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