Being forced to
watch this movie for all eternity would be like finding yourself in one
of those "Twilight Zone" episodes in which the same torture keeps
happening again and again.
Before all the leftover Christmas turkey is gone, there may
still be time to have a look back at the classic Salon.com article from December
2001 concerning the central flaw in It’s a Wonderful Life—that Pottersville, the
supposedly nightmarish town that would have sprung up had George Bailey not
existed, actually looks a hell of a lot more fun than Bedford Falls, which it
replaces in George’s Clarence-inspired hallucinations. Put more succinctly by
the writer, Gary Kamiya: “There’s just one problem: Pottersville rocks!”
After
making a hilarious, point-by-point argument (weakened only when he
mistakenly
calls the taxi driver Bert—of course, the cabbie is Ernie; Bert is the
cop), the writer concludes with this salient point:
In Capra's Tale of
Two Cities, Pottersville is the Bad Place. It's the demonic foil to
Bedford Falls, the sweet, Norman Rockwell-like town in which George
grows up. Named after the evil Mr. Potter, Pottersville is the setting
for George's brief, nightmarish trip through a world in which he never
existed. In that alternative universe, Potter has triumphed, and we are
intended to shudder in horror at the sinful city he has spawned -- a
kind of combo pack of Sodom, Gomorrah, Times Square in 1972, Tokyo's
hostess district, San Francisco's Barbary Coast ca. 1884 and one of
those demon-infested burgs dimly visible in the background of a
Hieronymus Bosch painting.
There's just one problem: Pottersville rocks!
Pottersville makes
its brief but memorable appearance during that tumultuous scene when
George, who has just been bounced from Nick's Bar and is beginning to
seriously freak out, rushes down the main street. Many bartenders, after being subjected to this insufferably patronizing
sermon -- "Off with you, my lad, and be lively"? "That's a good man"?
-- on top of being ordered to make an insultingly impractical drink,
would simply reach behind the bar and bring down a baseball bat upon
the head of the offending customer. To his credit, Nick does not.
Instead, he delivers a speech that, while perhaps not as gracious as it
could have been, is a model of frankness and concision. "We serve hard
drinks for men who want to get drunk fast," he tells Clarence, "and we
don't need any 'characters' hanging around to give the joint
'atmosphere.'"
I have made, I believe, a definitive case that Pottersville has gotten
a bad rap and that Bedford Falls is grossly overrated. But if there are
any who are still unconvinced, I would just like to remind them of one
little detail: in the real world, Potter won.
We all live in Pottersville now. Bedford Falls is gone. The plucky
little Savings and Loan closed down years ago, just like in George's
nightmare. Cleaned up, his evil eyebrows removed, armed with a good PR
firm, Mr. Potter goes merrily about his business, "consolidating" the
George Baileys of the world. To cling to dreams of a bucolic America
where the little guy defeats the forces of Big Business and the
policeman and the taxi driver and the druggist and the banker all sing
Auld Lang Syne together is just to ask for heartbreak and confusion
when you turn off the TV and open your front door. So don't fight it. It's a Pottersville world! Welcome jitterbuggers! Get me -- (ka-ching!) -- I'm giving out wings!
Before all the leftover Christmas turkey is gone, there may
still be time to have a look back at the classic Salon.com article from December
2001 concerning 
