Andrew Volpe of Ludo’s Top 10 Christmas Songs from Classic Holiday Movies

As the festive season envelops us in its warm, twinkling embrace, it’s time to revisit those timeless melodies that have become synonymous with Christmas cheer. From the snow-laden streets of Bedford Falls to the boisterous chaos of the McCallister household, classic holiday films like “It’s a Wonderful Life” and “Home Alone” have gifted us with an array of songs that resonate deeply with the spirit of the season.

This year, we’re taking a melodious sleigh ride through these cinematic wonders with a guide who knows a thing or two about crafting unforgettable tunes—Andrew Volpe, the charismatic lead singer of Ludo.

Catch Andrew at the “A Volpe Family Christmas” show this Friday, with doors opening at 5:30 PM for the acoustic performance and sing-along at Cobra Lounge.

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Christmas (Baby, Please Come Home)

 Darlene Love

Gremlins (1984)

Gremlins is a singularly disruptive and profoundly confusing film: a cautionary tale about the dangers of American consumerism, the death of Main Street, and the dishonorable handling of mystical creatures. As the film opens, it’s Christmas in the tiny hamlet of Kingston Falls. And what better way to capture the snowy white setting of snowy white children throwing snowy white snowballs at each other than with Darlene Love’s Motown masterpiece, “Christmas (Baby Please Come Home).” 

As local man-child, Billy, struggles to start his car in the driveway, Darlene laments that Christmas isn’t the same this year, pleading for her love to come back home. It’s a truly bewildering juxtaposition of soulful holiday heartache and scenes of a two-dimensional heehaw talking to his dog about being late for his job at the bank. Classic. 

Soon, of course, the Christmassy-ness gives way to little green monsters weaponizing household appliances (in an unexpected confluence of anarchist values and competent electrical work, notably), but this song hits the feels and sets the tone so well that I stay in jingle-tingle mode all the way up to the Snow White sing-along. 

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John McClane has just emerged from Nakatomi Tower with Holly at his side. Hans Gruber has fallen to his death. Argyle has punched out Theo (quarterback = toast). Sergeant Al Powell has overcome his weapons trauma and neutralized a resurgent Karl. Holly has punched Walter Peck on live TV. Hostages are mostly okay. The reconciling couple snuggle up in the back of the limo as negotiable bearer bonds peacefully float to the ground outside. Cue “Let It Snow” by Vaughn Monroe. Ah yes. Fists with your toes.

The McCallisters may have forgotten Kevin, but hot damn, John Hughes hasn’t forgotten how to make a movie. In a sequence that plays through my head whenever I navigate O’Hare at the holidays, the (minus-Macauley) family sprints like a herd of reindeer through the airport terminal. Simply by featuring Christmas-laden lyrics, “Run, Rudolph, Run” recasts the brilliantly agnostic song formula of (deeply undersung St. Louis inventor of modern culture) Chuck Berry into an instantly resonating vehicle of holiday vibe and imagery. The song intertwines with the kinetic scene so beautifully that the two are now forever linked in my sense memory… which is, in my opinion, exactly what the marriage of picture and sound should always aspire to.

Pre-2000, it must have been impossible to imagine any other Grinch-portraying singer’s performance ever holding a candle to that of bass vocalist Thurl Ravenscroft (he of Tony the Tiger fame) in the 1966 animated special, “Dr. Seuss’ How the Grinch Stole Christmas.” How could anyone? Enter Jim Carrey as the live-action green ol’ bastard, delivering his own delectably, delightfully acrobatic tour-de-force rendition of “You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch.” This, my friends, is a true Christmas miracle. He not only transcends his comfort zone of rattled-off vocal tchotchkes to reach a truly dizzying, maniacal, flowing performance of comedic genius, he also sings with phenomenal style, power, control, and grace. I mean, I knew he could sing, but baby Jesus, he can really sing!

No Christmas vibe soup would be complete without some debilitating wistfulness, and no one sings wistful better than Judy Garland in “Meet Me in St. Louis.” At the movie’s release in 1944, America had seen a second world war since Judy last lamented about “home” as a young Dorothy trapped in Kansas. Her tune changed for this film though: now she’s super-into staying home. In this iconic scene, her character grapples with the tragedy of leaving St. Louis for New York City. Gazing out at snowmen alongside a dewy-eyed child, she warbles gorgeously about hoping that “someday soon, we all will be together,” a message that resonated powerfully at the time with homesick service members and their theater-patronizing families at home. Christmas depression really finds its roots here, folks. Come… ruminate with me in Judy’s Garland’s emotional egg nog.

I can’t think of a more brilliantly self-contained, cohesive, dense, and peculiar universe of whimsy than Paul Reubens’ “Pee-Wee’s Playhouse.” It’s seamless world-building at its best, where you’re never quite sure what’s coming next, but once it does, it feels exactly right. Pee-Wee’s tackling of Christmas is right on brand, featuring weird skits, eclectic cameos, and really good performances of holiday songs. My favorite selection here is Charo’s flawless performance of “Feliz Navidad.” Accompanied by muzak synth and Conky 2000’s super-lame percussion beat (that is entirely someone pushing a Casio keyboard’s “Latin” button), prime Charo strums and sings with cosmopolitan poise while a blindfolded Pee-Wee tries to break a giant piñata. Joyeux Noël, everybody!

Every pool and beach in the 1980’s prominently featured open-mouthed men lowering their sunglasses to get a better look at things. And by things, I mean bikinied women reduced to slo-mo close-ups of body parts. Watching Clark Griswold gape and shudder at fantasy sequences in National Lampoon’s movies made me feel super-weird as a kid. Now that I’m grown up, it makes me feel considerably weirder. 

In “Christmas Vacation,” we get to watch Chevy Chase in Christmas pajamas looking out at his snowy backyward, summer-daydreaming about a young woman getting naked on his diving board. In perfect synchronicity, we are bathed in Bing Crosby’s gorgeous crooning of “Mele Kalikimaka,” a Yule-inspired entry in mid-century America’s robust catalog of songs that fetishize the lands of faraway palm tree-people. 

This harmless tropical postcard invites us to enjoy the imagery of “a bright Hawaiian Christmas day,” much in the same way that a happily married Clark has invited himself to masturbate in his kitchen to imagined swimsuit-issue side boob. Perhaps just a quick lecherous visit to paradise would be okay? It’s not like actual colonialism, right? I just threw up in my mouth a bit. Merry Christmas.

Everyone’s favorite bald child and his anemic band of friends are a staple of all Q4 holidays. Lucy pulling the football, the kite in the tree, Linus’ blanket, the teacher’s wah-wah lessons—it all feels like an invitation to resign and detach. Add in Vince Guaraldi’s phenomenal jazz compositions to set the Jell-O and the fatalism promptly coagulates into a stone monument of Christmas acceptance, imperfectly dappled with vinyl crackles. Not even Snoopy’s high-flying antics can seem to cut through the ensuing fog. And within the heart-tugging vocal melody, introspective bass, snare-brushing daydreams, and fanciful piano embellishments of “Christmas Time Is Here,” I’m content to stay fully socked in without a Rudolph nose in sight.

Arnold Schwarzenegger, Sinbad, physical comedy, and a luke-warm hot take on commercialism: that’s what “Jingle All the Way” has to offer the zeitgeist. To be clear, this is not a great movie, but its soundtrack’s gem, “Back Door Santa” by dirty, dirty, dirty Southern soul godfather, Clarence Carter, is absolutely amazing. As Schwarzenegger’s quest to find the ultimate hot holiday toy for his son brings him to a warehouse full of counterfeiting con men wearing mall Santa costumes, we establish the bustling interior of the crime workshop with Carter’s nasty-ass brassy sass: “They call me Back Door Santa / I make my runs about the break of day / I make all the girls happy / While the boys are out to play.” Later sampled in Run DMC’s landmark Christmas jam, “Christmas in Hollis,” this song has all the attitude and git-up that someone who consciously taps on a song called “Back Door Santa” expects. Everything in its place, folks. You know what you’re signing up for with this one. This particular holiday vibe is built for the polar opposite of the Frosty the Snowman demographic. Enjoy in select company. 

I’m not going to write a blurb selling people on a song from the highest echelon of traditional carols or how it’s been masterfully integrated in to the final scene of one of the greatest movies ever made. Go watch it. “Remember, no man is a failure who has friends.”

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Andrew Volpe