7.4/10. I have a weird habit of seeing sequels and remakes before I see the originators. It wasn’t by design, but I saw *Kingdom of the Crystal Skull* before I saw any of the other Indiana Jones films; I watched *Live Free or Die Hard* before I watched any of the other films in the franchise, and I watched the 1994 *Miracle on 34th Street* remake before I’d ever seen the original. And when you come into these sorts of things backwards, you can’t help but contrast and compare what you saw first with what you saw next, and see how the two fit together, trump one another, or feel like two movies trying to do the same thing and reaching very different results.

So watching the original 1947 *Miracle on 34th Street* stands out for the ways it differs from its successor: in the theme of the film, in the logic and character of its story, and in the different takes on the same characters.

As to theme, it’s interesting that the 1994 version is, in many ways, more old-fashioned than the 1947 version. While the nineties *Miracle* uses belief in Santa as a proxy for religious belief and subtly champions the superiority, if not the necessity, of the nuclear family, the forties version is not really focused on either. Instead, it’s centered on what’s become more of a traditional theme for Holidays films and TV shows – the creep of commercialism over the goodwill spirit of the season. Sure, there’s some of the same subtext when it comes to belief, or in the dream of the house in the suburbs over the fancy Manhattan apartment, but the 1947 film is more attached to the idea that Christmas is something about more than selling toys, than about the importance of faith in and of itself.

What’s also interesting is how much more sense the 1947 version makes, particularly in its courtroom scenes, than the 1994 version does. To some degree, any sort of trial to determine whether or not someone is Santa Claus is going to trend toward the silly or outlandish, but the forties *Miracle* does a surprisingly superb job at rooting it in as much realism as there could be for such a thing. Fred Gailey makes a plausible, if not exactly probable case for why a commitment hearing could devolve into a referendum on whether or not a man is really Santa Claus, and the opposing district attorney does a nice job at holding his feet to the flame on issues like who has the burden and relevance that make it feel more like a real court proceeding than a convenient Hollywood abstraction.

That leads to another notable difference between the two films: the lack of overtly evil antagonists in the 1947 version relative to its 1994 counterpart. The 1994 film is full of mustache-twirling baddies, from the opposing department store CEO, to his two goons, to the deposed former Macy’s Santa, to the venal district attorney. The 1947 has none of that, with the closest thing to a real antagonist being puffed up pseudo-psychologist Granville Sawyer, who’s more of an easily dispatched pest than a real threat. (And even then, the film takes care to note that psychology as a whole isn’t bad – lest it become a proto-Scientology favorite – just that this guy is a poor practitioner). The evil in this movie comes from a cultural shift to consumption, competition, and tribalism over goodwill, generosity, and kindness rather than from some particular bad individual.

It ties into the characterizations of the district attorney and the judge in the 1947 version. While the district attorney in the 1994 *Miracle* is portrayed as a generally dishonest guy, the one in the forties film admits that he likes the purported Kris Kringle, and doesn’t want to see him committed necessarily, but that he’s just doing his job. Similarly, the 1940s film creates an interesting dynamic where the judge’s campaign manager tells him to let Santa off the hook for the good publicity, while the judge himself is similarly pleasantly disposed toward the kindly old man who thinks himself Old Saint Nick, but is likewise committed to doing his job and following the law impartially, even if it hurts his election chances. There’s an integrity to both of them that’s missing in the conceptions of both characters in the 90s film.

That said, the comparisons of the main characters results in differences, but not necessarily superior outings from one versus the other. There’s a pure jolly gregariousness and decency in Richard Attenborough’s Santa in the 90s remake that makes him the standout element in that film. The 1940s Santa (Edmund Gwenn) is a little less chuckly, a little more upstanding and dignified, while still representing a purity of heart to make the character work. Similarly, Mara Wilson’s Susan Walker is a bit more precocious, feeling like an old soul at an early age, while the turn as the same character by a young Natalie Wood works in a different way, with a sort of wry skepticism that’s amusing coming from an elementary school-aged child.

The same goes for the pair of Doris Walker and Fred Gailey. In the nineties version, the couple is a little more expressive, but they’re also more generic, with a certain Hallmark movie romance and standard dynamic that doesn’t allow them to rise above the material. By contrast, the pair in the 1940s film come off as a little more button down, which speaks to the different times of the two films, but also a little more understandable. Here, Doris seems less like a broken woman trying to remain cold and distant than a perfectly reasonable one, who means well and wants the best for her daughter and this man who claims to be Kris Kringle, but also wants to do her job and take the precautions necessary.

In the end, of course, both she and her daughter believe him. (As an aside, I’d kill for some gear for my favorite sports teams that say “I believe. I believe. It’s silly, but I believe.”) The memorable scene of bags of letters to Santa brought into the courtroom lives up to its iconic status by offering a clever way for Gailey to show that the federal government has recognized his client as Santa. And, sure enough, in the end the good guys win after getting their day in court.

But more than that, the letter of support from the two individuals in Kringle’s test case offers the true victory and sells the theme of the film -- that more than a general faith or even a belief in one man’s identity, these two skeptical individuals believe in spirit of kindness and generosity that he represents, and which the season symbolizes for so many people. That alone elevates the 1940s original over the remake, and watching the two films in reverse order shows how in many ways, the folks behind the 1947 *Miracle* were sharper and in some ways, more ahead of the times than their 1994 counterparts.