I think an older Spielberg would have fleshed out these characters more and focused on trying to establish the ensemble as strongly as he did in Jurassic Park or Catch Me If You Can, but goddamn does he still direct the shit out of this as a young man. Some of the most ambitious combinations of crowd shots, practical effects, miniatures, and matte paintings the ‘70s would end up seeing. And the beauty of aliens flying untold light years to teach us how to make music? Unmatched.

I don’t need my early 2000s comedies to look like Blade Runner 2049, but this movie straight up looks like ass a lot of the time. What happened there?

Extra half star for gay dogs.

Not sure which member of this cast I hated the most, the Chiefs fan from New Jersey who was ready to lay down her life for a violent bank robber who was annoying on Twitter or that bank robber’s ridiculous lawyer who in a more just world would have simply been a Jason Schwartzman character from 2008 or so.

Every year. 

Every year Uncle Billy turns over that basket of money in George Bailey’s living room and I start weeping. 

By the time Clarence reminds George (via hand-written inscription) that no man is a failure who has friends, all of my struggles and self-doubts from the prior 11 months and 24 days wash away in beautiful personal catharsis.