‘A Christmas Story’ Is A Crucial Text That Helps Us To Understand Bad Dads

When it comes to Christmas movies, dads have been pretty shitty, historically speaking.

One was a self-pitying crybaby who almost threw himself off a bridge on Christmas Eve, of all the days (It’s a Wonderful Life). One didn’t even notice his kid was missing until he was on a flight to Paris (Home Alone). One was such an absentee asshole, we actually know nothing about him whatsoever other than that the fact he left his ex-wife so cynical towards men than she didn’t even trust goddamn Santa Claus (Miracle on 34th Street). And one dad was such a stubborn, selfish jerk, he’d rather lose his marriage and a relationship with his kids than support his wife having a successful career (Die Hard 1,2,3…97). But A Christmas Story is in a class of its own, as it’s the most complicated, sympathetic, and common example of a father that audiences still manage to love despite his awfulness. The kind of dad my father and a lot of men in his Baby Boomer generation can relate to, and even use as an example of what not to be once they themselves became fathers.

Maybe that’s why my dad was always on the verge of tears every single time he watched A Christmas Story? It told the story of boys who yearn for their dad’s attention.

From what I’ve heard about fathers back in the day, Old Man Parker was a pretty typical dad of the ’50s/’60s. He was kind of like Don Draper from Mad Men (but more faithful) mixed with a funnier version of Kevin Arnold’s dad in The Wonder Years. He had a lot nicer things to say than what racist/sexist/homophobic Archie Bunker spewed from that recliner of his, too. No doubt, Old Man Parker was a way better than a number of his patriarch TV/film peers.

But he still kinda sucked, God bless him.

Not only was he emotionally unavailable for his family, but he had an abundance of anger—the only emotion men in America are allowed to safely display. In fact, he was such a grumpy pants, his wife constantly bent herself into a pretzel to keep the peace. Why else would she tolerate having that embarrassing leg lamp in her front window, then “accidentally” break it? She was constantly putting out her husband’s fires and defusing his bombs for everyone’s sake.

When Dad threatened to give Randy “something to cry about” because he wouldn’t eat his dinner, it was Mom that swooped in and tricked Randy into being a disgusting piggy who oinks and makes a mess. It’s gross and a bit extreme, but a necessary measure to keep the peace. More importantly, it worked. When Ralphie got in a fight at school, Mom distracted her husband before he could get mad by asking him about football, which she cares nothing about. She is the quintessential wife of the patriarchy—a master manipulator. It’s a superpower she, like most women over the centuries, have perfected in order to protect themselves and the family.

From men.

Now, I seriously doubt Old Man Parker would’ve ever laid a hand on his kids or wife. He’s not abusive so much as constantly on the brink of rage. But he usually takes it out on the radiator downstairs and the neighbor’s dogs. Regardless, his wife and kids’ fear of his anger makes it so that the household constantly orbits around his moods.

Obviously #notall50sdads were like this. But enough certainly were. A lack of emotional involvement seemed to be par for the course back then, and was particularly challenging for sons. Probably because fathers are typically harder on their sons in general (as moms are harder on their daughters). Because of this, it seems to have left a lot of men like my dad in this precarious position of both fearing their fathers yet desperately wanting to make them proud. This meant no crying or being soft. Things are changing, but this is often still the case with sons.

The only time the Parker boys ever did cry, it was in front of their mom or while they were alone. For example, after getting in a fight, Ralphie lays in bed bawling as he listens in terror for the sound of dad’s car pulling into the driveway. His little brother Randy was so afraid, he actually hid in the kitchen cupboard, wailing. When his mom found him, she had to reassure him, “Noooo, daddy isn’t going to kill Ralphie.”

Despite the family walking on eggshells to avoid the rage of their cantankerous patriarch, you really can’t help but love good ole dad. Because, like a lot of men back then (and now), he’s a product of his time and really doesn’t know how to be any other way. Even more so than modern men, he’s emotionally imprisoned in his stoic, masculine, breadwinner role. He doesn’t appear to have any friends either. And you know the dude ain’t going to therapy.

In rare moments, he does reveal just how much he loves his kids, like that moment when he gives Ralphie that BB gun mom refused to. Or when he lets Ralphie take off that ridiculous pink bunny costume his mom insisted he wear. Gender roles were so screwed up back then, this pink bunny is the perfect example of dads expecting their sons to man up too soon while mom infantilizing them forever. This movie really makes you appreciate the progress feminism has made in fighting rigid gender roles since the ’50s.

And yet it also shows you just how far we have to go.

Because today, television shows and movies are constantly downplaying the importance of fathers in the family. Bad Dad Syndrome has now morphed into what I call The Homer Simpsonization of American Dads. Modern dads are selfish doofs. Man-babies. The butt of all jokes. That’s not a lot better than the raging asshole of the ’50s, but at least they’re not complete dicks.

Boys’ complicated relationship with their fathers is what I believe to be the root of so many modern problems. In fact, I’d go so far as to say my dad’s relationship with his father, or lack thereof, was the source of almost all of his misery. He never fully got over the fact his dad never said he loved him or seemed proud of his son. He drank over it for decades. Luckily, this tumultuous relationship my dad had with his father is what ultimately motivated me to repair my relationship with him. And A Christmas Story is one of the things that helped me do that.

Sometime during the 158 times I’ve watched this flick, I started to understand the environment my dad grew up in and how much boys desperately want their father’s love. But now, instead of being upset that my dad’s “I love you’s” always seemed forced, I appreciate the fact he forced himself to say it at all. You never once hear Old Man Parker say it to either of his sons. That’s not an oversight in the script either.

Modern dads are learning from their fathers’ mistakes how to be better, and the next generation will learn from theirs, too. At least now, dads don’t have to buy their sons BB guns to show they give a shit about them.

Melanie Hamlett is a writer, storyteller, comedian, and public speaker based out of LA. She’s also regular on the Risk! podcast, created Smashing Stories, and performs regularly when she’s not sleeping in the back of her truck in the woods or living abroad.

Where to stream A Christmas Story