7 Christmas movies Boomers watch religiously every year that younger generations find unbearably slow – VegOut

Last December, I found myself at a dinner party in East Austin where the conversation turned to holiday traditions. One of my friends, a marketing executive in her early thirties, mentioned how her parents insist on their annual viewing of certain Christmas movies. She rolled her eyes as she described sitting through them, checking her phone every few minutes.

I get it. Growing up, I remember watching some of these films with my grandmother in Boston, who’d reminisce about seeing them in theaters. Back then, I didn’t fully appreciate what made them special to her generation.

Now, having spent over a decade in luxury hospitality serving ultra-wealthy clients across generations, I’ve noticed something interesting about the generational divide in entertainment preferences.

The Baby Boomers who’d host elaborate holiday gatherings at high-end resorts would request specific classic films to be shown. Their children and grandchildren, raised on Marvel movies and TikTok, would visibly struggle to sit through them. The pacing that once felt deliberate now registers as glacial to younger viewers conditioned by faster editing and constant stimulation.

Here are seven Christmas movies that Boomers consider essential holiday viewing, but that younger generations often find painfully slow.

1) It’s a Wonderful Life

This 1946 Frank Capra film starring James Stewart is probably the most iconic example. Boomers call it a masterpiece. Many younger viewers call it a test of endurance.

The film runs over two hours and spends significant time building George Bailey’s backstory before getting to the main plot. We watch his childhood, his young adult years, his courtship, his business struggles. The actual fantasy element with the angel Clarence doesn’t kick in until well past the halfway mark.

For a generation raised on content that delivers payoffs within minutes, this extended setup feels excessive. The black and white cinematography, the theatrical acting style, the long stretches of dialogue without action all contribute to a viewing experience that feels more like homework than entertainment.

But here’s what Boomers understand that gets lost in translation. The slow build matters. Every scene pays off later. When George finally sees Bedford Falls without him, we understand the weight of every relationship, every small kindness, every sacrifice. The emotional impact depends on that investment of time.

Still, try explaining that to someone who grew up with YouTube and expects emotional payoff in under 10 minutes.

2) White Christmas

Bing Crosby and Danny Kaye singing and dancing their way through a Vermont ski lodge sounds charming in theory. In practice, for younger viewers, it’s a slog.

The 1954 musical features long song and dance numbers that showcase the talents of its stars but do little to advance the plot. Musical numbers that once dazzled theater audiences now feel like interruptions to the story. The romance develops at a leisurely pace that would never fly in a modern rom-com.

I’ve served at events where this film played in the background during holiday parties. The older guests would stop and watch, singing along. The younger ones would migrate to other rooms or pull out their phones.

The issue isn’t just the songs themselves but how they’re presented. Modern musicals like La La Land or The Greatest Showman integrate music into rapid storytelling. White Christmas comes from an era when audiences expected to simply sit and appreciate a performance for several uninterrupted minutes.

That expectation doesn’t translate well to an audience conditioned by streaming platforms and skip buttons.

3) Miracle on 34th Street

Both the 1947 original and the 1994 remake have their devotees among Boomers, but the original especially struggles to hold younger attention spans.

The premise is straightforward. A department store Santa claims to be the real deal. A court case ensues. But the film takes its sweet time getting there, spending extensive scenes on character development, philosophical discussions about belief, and courtroom procedures that unfold with documentary-like patience.

During my years in fine dining, I learned that great meals require pacing. Rush a tasting menu and you lose the experience. The same principle applies here. Miracle on 34th Street was designed for audiences who appreciated gradual development and nuanced performances.

The problem? We’re not dining anymore. We’re grazing. Modern viewers want flavor hits, not slow-building complexity. They want the courtroom drama without the setup, the Christmas magic without the philosophical groundwork.

The film’s black and white presentation doesn’t help either. Despite the quality of the cinematography, younger viewers often associate black and white with old and boring, automatically tuning out before giving the story a chance.

4) A Christmas Carol

Specifically, the 1951 version with Alastair Sim. Boomers swear it’s the definitive adaptation. Younger viewers wonder why they’re watching something that looks like it was filmed during the actual Victorian era.

This adaptation runs over 80 minutes but feels longer because of its deliberate pacing and somber tone. The ghost visits that feel rushed in modern versions are drawn out here, with extended sequences showing Scrooge’s past, present, and future.

The film’s approach treats the story as a serious moral tale rather than entertainment. Scenes linger on emotional beats. Characters speak in measured, theatrical tones. There’s minimal comic relief and lots of darkness, both literal and figurative.

I’ll admit, when I watched this during my years in Bangkok learning to slow down and appreciate patience, I gained new respect for it. The film’s willingness to sit with uncomfortable emotions and let scenes breathe taught me something about storytelling.

But I’d already spent three years deprogramming from Western culture’s obsession with speed and efficiency. Most younger viewers haven’t had that luxury. They’re still operating at full throttle, checking notifications, managing multiple screens, expecting constant stimulation.

5) Holiday Inn

The 1942 Bing Crosby and Fred Astaire vehicle that introduced “White Christmas” to the world is a Boomer favorite that younger generations struggle to appreciate beyond that one iconic song.

The plot involves a farm turned into an inn that’s only open on holidays. Musical numbers celebrate various holidays throughout the year. Romance develops between characters in that unhurried way that characterized Golden Age Hollywood.

The film runs nearly two hours, but the actual plot could probably be condensed to 30 minutes. The rest consists of musical performances, dance routines, and meandering conversations that establish mood rather than advance story.

Modern audiences trained on tight, efficient storytelling often describe watching Holiday Inn as confusing. Why so many songs? Why does so little happen? Why do characters take so long to say what they mean?

These aren’t flaws. They’re features of a different era’s entertainment values. But try explaining that to someone whose favorite show drops eight episodes at once designed for binge-watching.

6) The Bishop’s Wife

This 1947 film starring Cary Grant, Loretta Young, and David Niven is practically unknown to younger generations but beloved by Boomers who remember it fondly.

An angel comes to Earth to help a bishop raise funds for a new cathedral. Romance, philosophy, and gentle comedy ensue. The film takes its time exploring themes of faith, materialism, and what matters most in life.

The pacing is contemplative, almost meditative. Scenes of characters ice skating, decorating trees, or simply talking stretch on without the urgent momentum modern films maintain. The angel’s interventions are subtle, not the flashy miracles contemporary audiences expect.

I think about the dinners I used to organize for wealthy families at boutique hotels. The ones who appreciated The Bishop’s Wife were the same ones who’d sit for three-hour meals, savoring each course, discussing ideas between bites. They’d trained themselves to value patience and presence.

Their kids and grandkids? They’d finish eating in 30 minutes and ask when they could leave. Different generations, different relationship with time.

7) The Bells of St. Mary’s

Finally, this 1945 sequel to Going My Way starring Bing Crosby and Ingrid Bergman might be the ultimate test of a younger viewer’s patience.

The film follows a priest and a nun running a Catholic school, dealing with fundraising challenges, student problems, and their own philosophical differences. There’s barely any plot in the traditional sense, just a series of vignettes exploring character and theme.

Scenes unfold with theatrical deliberation. Conversations happen in real time without rapid cutting. Musical numbers appear when they feel thematically appropriate, not when the story needs a boost of energy. The film’s climax involves a quiet, emotional revelation rather than dramatic confrontation.

For Boomers who grew up when going to the movies meant sitting in a theater for a double feature without checking your phone, this pacing felt normal. For younger generations conditioned by content designed to prevent them from scrolling away, it’s torture.

Interestingly enough, during my time in Thailand, I learned to appreciate this kind of storytelling. Thai friends would take me to see old films at revival theaters, explaining how slowing down helped you actually experience the story rather than just consume it. That lesson stuck with me, even after returning to Austin’s faster-paced culture.

The real difference isn’t quality

Here’s the thing none of these observations are really about whether these films are good or bad. They’re about how different generations have been conditioned to process entertainment.

Boomers grew up in an era when you had three TV channels and movies stayed in theaters for months. You didn’t have infinite options. You learned to appreciate what was in front of you, to sink into slower rhythms, to let stories unfold at their own pace.

Younger generations grew up with Netflix, YouTube, TikTok, and an algorithm serving up endless content tailored to their exact preferences. They’ve been trained to expect immediate gratification, rapid pacing, and the ability to move on the second something gets boring.

Neither approach is inherently better. They’re just different.

When I’m hosting dinners at my place in East Austin, I sometimes put on one of these classics in the background. The older guests light up with recognition and nostalgia. The younger ones tolerate them politely while waiting for something else to happen.

The divide isn’t really about the movies themselves. It’s about what we’ve learned to value in our entertainment and, maybe more importantly, in our time. Boomers learned patience because they had to. Younger generations learned efficiency because the world demanded it.

These seven films remain beloved classics for good reason. They showcase incredible performances, beautiful cinematography, and storytelling that prioritizes emotional depth over narrative speed. They come from a time when movies were events, not content to be consumed between tasks.

Whether that makes them better or worse than modern entertainment depends entirely on what you’re looking for. Just don’t expect your Gen Z nephew to sit through all of It’s a Wonderful Life without his phone. He’s not being rude. He’s just operating with a completely different internal clock.