Grammar Cop

Lask week, before the stroke event, I performed my annual viewing of my favourite Christmas film, Miracle on 34th Street. (The original 1947 20th-Century Fox version, of course; all of th remakes are woefully inferior.) Before I get to the reason for posting on this thread, in a callback to my recent Christmas Deck Log Entry, the two lump-in-the-throat moments for me in this films are:

1. The scene with Kris Kringle, while serving as Macy's Santa Claus, and the little Dutch girl, a war refugee. It's the most touching moment in the film. (And even more so, if you understand Dutch, or have read the various translations of the Dutch dialogue available on line.)

2. The scene near the end of the movie that takes place on Christmas morning at the old folks' home where Kris lives. Doctor Pierce finds the X-ray machine that Kris has purchased for the home, and Pierce responds, "Kris, all I can say is . . . the state supreme court declared you to be Santa Claus---and personally and professionally, I agree with them."

But, it's the closing lines of the movie which have encouraged this post. The very last line, actually. Because every time I hear it, I'm reminded that generations of viewers since the time the film was made must be confused by that line.

We've discussed here how, over time, the meanings of certain words have become perverted by misuse. On some of these, the ship has sailed, and it's unlikely these words will ever regain their proper meaning. Such as factoid, which properly means "an assumption or speculation that is reported and repeated so often that it becomes accepted as fact". The word is now used to mean "a small fact" (which mystifies me; how does one qualifiy a fact? What determines a "small" fact from a "big" one?)

Some of these defintion-perversions are still opposed by most speakers of the language, such as the use of literally as an intensifier, rather than the emphasising adverb it actually is.

And a rare few others actually are beneficial. Bemused, for example, means "confused" or "perplexed"; yet it has come to be used to mean "slightly or vaguely amused". I agree with this alteration. There are all kinds of words which mean "confused"---"perplexed", "bewildered", "flummoxed", "puzzled", and so forth. But the English language does not have another word which means "slightly or vaguely amused", So to use bemuse to that purpose fills a need.

Difficulty in understanding can ensue when one of these words is encountered in its original use, but the reader is familiar with only the modern interpretation. And that brings us to the closing scene of Miracle on 34th Street. Fred Gailey and Doris Walker have discovered a house for sale, a house which matches exactly the one which Doris' daughter, Susie, asked Kris Kringle for as her Christmas present.

Fred says to Doris, "I must be a pretty good lawyer. I take a little old man and legally prove to the world that he's Santa Claus! Now, you and I know that . . ."

Fred pauses when he sees something over Doris' shoulder. She looks, as well, and there, resting next to the fireplace mantle, is a cane identical to the one that Kris carried.

"Oh no, it can't be!" says Doris. "It must have been left by the people who moved out."

But Fred isn't so sure. And he replies with the last line of the film.

"Maybe. . . And maybe I didn't do such a wonderful thing after all."

That has to leave modern viewers confused. After all, Gailey managed to have the state supreme court of New York adjudge Kris Kringle to be the real Santa Claus, a ruling which pleased and delighted both the characters in the film and the viewers. Surely, that's a wonderful thing.

Well, no, it isn't. At least, not at the time the movie was made. To-day, the word wonderful is taken to mean "inspiring delight, or pleasure; something extremely good." But, at the time of the movie, wonderful had a narrower definition. It meant "full of wonder", wonder being "a feeling of surprise caused by something unexpected or inexplicable". Therefore, something wonderful was something that was full of that feeling of surprise at an unexpected or inexplicable event.

Fred Gailey had thought he'd done something wonderful in getting Kris declared to be Santa Claus--given that Santa was a fantasy character, he felt such a result was surprisingly inexplicable to have actually happened.

But, if Santa Claus did exist, as the cane implied, then all Fred did in court was confirm that Kris was him, remarkable, perhaps, certainly delightful---but not full of wonder.

* * * * *

Incidentally, Jeff, thank you for your recommendation of Grandiloquent Words - A Pictoric Lexicon of Ostrobogulous Locutions. I do not have that book, but it's the kind of thing I enjoy heartily. I'll be getting a copy of it post haste. Much obliged, my friend.

Replies

- Commander Benson > JD DeLuzio January 24, 2024 at 12:10pm
  
  Maybe that confusion explains why John Wayne got the cameo as the centurion who says, "Truly that man was the son of God," in The Greatest Story Ever Told.
  
  My favourite anecdote about Mr. Wayne's appearance in that film---and if it's apocryphal, I don't care---is after the first take, when Wayne delivered his dialogue, "Truly that man was the son of God," director George Stevens calls out.
  
  "Duke," he says, "you're supposed to be looking up at Jesus. I need you to say the line with awe."
  
  Wayne nods, and on take two, he says:
  
  "Aww, truly that man was the son of God."
Commander Benson December 30, 2024 at 8:16am

Lask week, before the stroke event, I performed my annual viewing of my favourite Christmas film, Miracle on 34th Street. (The original 1947 20th-Century Fox version, of course; all of th remakes are woefully inferior.) Before I get to the reason for posting on this thread, in a callback to my recent Christmas Deck Log Entry, the two lump-in-the-throat moments for me in this films are:

1. The scene with Kris Kringle, while serving as Macy's Santa Claus, and the little Dutch girl, a war refugee. It's the most touching moment in the film. (And even more so, if you understand Dutch, or have read the various translations of the Dutch dialogue available on line.)

2. The scene near the end of the movie that takes place on Christmas morning at the old folks' home where Kris lives. Doctor Pierce finds the X-ray machine that Kris has purchased for the home, and Pierce responds, "Kris, all I can say is . . . the state supreme court declared you to be Santa Claus---and personally and professionally, I agree with them."

But, it's the closing lines of the movie which have encouraged this post. The very last line, actually. Because every time I hear it, I'm reminded that generations of viewers since the time the film was made must be confused by that line.

We've discussed here how, over time, the meanings of certain words have become perverted by misuse. On some of these, the ship has sailed, and it's unlikely these words will ever regain their proper meaning. Such as factoid, which properly means "an assumption or speculation that is reported and repeated so often that it becomes accepted as fact". The word is now used to mean "a small fact" (which mystifies me; how does one qualifiy a fact? What determines a "small" fact from a "big" one?)

Some of these defintion-perversions are still opposed by most speakers of the language, such as the use of literally as an intensifier, rather than the emphasising adverb it actually is.

And a rare few others actually are beneficial. Bemused, for example, means "confused" or "perplexed"; yet it has come to be used to mean "slightly or vaguely amused". I agree with this alteration. There are all kinds of words which mean "confused"---"perplexed", "bewildered", "flummoxed", "puzzled", and so forth. But the English language does not have another word which means "slightly or vaguely amused", So to use bemuse to that purpose fills a need.

Difficulty in understanding can ensue when one of these words is encountered in its original use, but the reader is familiar with only the modern interpretation. And that brings us to the closing scene of Miracle on 34th Street. Fred Gailey and Doris Walker have discovered a house for sale, a house which matches exactly the one which Doris' daughter, Susie, asked Kris Kringle for as her Christmas present.

Fred says to Doris, "I must be a pretty good lawyer. I take a little old man and legally prove to the world that he's Santa Claus! Now, you and I know that . . ."

Fred pauses when he sees something over Doris' shoulder. She looks, as well, and there, resting next to the fireplace mantle, is a cane identical to the one that Kris carried.

"Oh no, it can't be!" says Doris. "It must have been left by the people who moved out."

But Fred isn't so sure. And he replies with the last line of the film.

"Maybe. . . And maybe I didn't do such a wonderful thing after all."

That has to leave modern viewers confused. After all, Gailey managed to have the state supreme court of New York adjudge Kris Kringle to be the real Santa Claus, a ruling which pleased and delighted both the characters in the film and the viewers. Surely, that's a wonderful thing.

Well, no, it isn't. At least, not at the time the movie was made. To-day, the word wonderful is taken to mean "inspiring delight, or pleasure; something extremely good." But, at the time of the movie, wonderful had a narrower definition. It meant "full of wonder", wonder being "a feeling of surprise caused by something unexpected or inexplicable". Therefore, something wonderful was something that was full of that feeling of surprise at an unexpected or inexplicable event.

Fred Gailey had thought he'd done something wonderful in getting Kris declared to be Santa Claus--given that Santa was a fantasy character, he felt such a result was surprisingly inexplicable to have actually happened.

But, if Santa Claus did exist, as the cane implied, then all Fred did in court was confirm that Kris was him, remarkable, perhaps, certainly delightful---but not full of wonder.

* * * * *

Incidentally, Jeff, thank you for your recommendation of Grandiloquent Words - A Pictoric Lexicon of Ostrobogulous Locutions. I do not have that book, but it's the kind of thing I enjoy heartily. I'll be getting a copy of it post haste. Much obliged, my friend.

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