Whose ‘Life’ Was It, Anyway?

George: I suppose it would have been better if I’d never been born at all.

Clarence: . . . That’s an idea. . . . All right. You’ve got your wish. You’ve never been born.--”It’s a Wonderful Life”

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Fifty years ago this month, the ultimate Christmas movie made its uncertain debut in the world, as Frank Capra’s “It’s a Wonderful Life” premiered to mostly indifferent audience response.

Of course, in a Capra-esque twist of redemption, the film became a holiday staple (the latest airing arrives Saturday on NBC), and memorabilia and books flood the market (see story, Page 90). Even after half a century, viewers can’t resist joining Jimmy Stewart’s George Bailey as he glimpses a parallel universe that’s shot to hell, all because he asked to be unborn.

Let’s take the conceit a step further--what if “It’s a Wonderful Life” and other holiday film favorites had not been “born” as we know them--if they had been made as the filmmakers and studios originally envisioned them? Even without Clarence the angel at our side, it’s not impossible to see what that alternative world would be like:

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December 1946. A handful of moviegoers shuffle through the snow-filled streets of Manhattan to see a new Christmas film, a heartwarming drama about an unsuccessful man who wishes he had never been born--and gets his wish.

The marquee above announces the movie title: “The Greatest Gift,” and it stars Cary Grant, as disappointed small-town bank clerk George Pratt.

One year before “It’s a Wonderful Life” premiered as a vehicle for Stewart, this very different adaptation was envisioned by RKO chief Charles Koerner. According to Jeanine Basinger’s definitive study, “The ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ Book,” Koerner bought Philip Van Doren Stern’s original story at the suggestion of Grant, who would star.

But Stern’s brief tale--written as a Christmas card for friends--befuddled all screenwriters who tried to expand its slender plot. In 1945, Koerner happily unloaded the story on Frank Capra.

Nervously embarking on his first postwar feature after years away from Hollywood, the director was determined to get Stewart as his star. After all, the two had collaborated successfully on 1938’s “You Can’t Take It With You” and 1939’s “Mr. Smith Goes to Washington.”

There was just one problem--Capra nearly botched the deal, with a disastrous story pitch worthy of the scatterbrained Uncle Billy.

“[Lew] Wasserman [Stewart’s agent] present,” Capra’s notebook account reads. “As I tell story, it evaporates into thin air. Tell Stewart to forget it. Wasserman’s dying. Jimmy doesn’t want to hear story.”

Fortunately, Stewart’s track record with Capra convinced the actor to take a chance. In November 1945, Stewart signed on to the newly retitled “It’s a Wonderful Life.”

Other casting issues proved thornier. Topping Capra’s list of possible leading ladies was Jean Arthur, who had romanced Stewart on screen in “Mr. Smith.” This time, Arthur said no; she had already agreed to do a play on Broadway.

As Jeanine Basinger has observed, casting the no-nonsense Jean Arthur as Mary Bailey “might have made the film slightly less romantic, more cerebral and sophisticated. Mary would have had to be more independent, more critical of George, more of a force in helping him make choices.”

Capra ultimately signed Donna Reed for the role.

For the villainous Mr. Potter, Capra considered such debonair actors as Louis Calhern, Raymond Massey and Claude Rains. Finally Capra opted for melodrama, casting Lionel Barrymore as a more brazenly evil Potter.

W.C. Fields made Capra’s short list of possibilities for Uncle Billy, before the role went to Thomas Mitchell, a veteran Capra cast member. It would be the second near-miss in a fantasy classic for Fields, who almost played the title role in “The Wizard of Oz.”

Only one aspect of “Life’s” history might have been improved in a parallel universe: its initial box-office failure, after a rushed release in December 1946--on Friday the 13th, no less. Reportedly costing $3 million, the project was said to have lost $500,000 initially--but like the townsfolk of Bedford Falls, film lovers gradually wised up and embraced George Bailey before it was too late.

“I woke up one Christmas morning, and the whole world was watching ‘It’s a Wonderful Life,’ ” Capra observed decades later. “And they all wrote me about it!”

‘It’s a Wonderful Life” wasn’t the only future holiday classic that survived differing visions and problematic stars. Take the Christmas movie that Grant did make: 1947’s “The Bishop’s Wife,” in which Grant--clearly obsessed with things celestial--played an angel sent to counsel an Episcopal bishop and his bride.

Things were more hellish than heavenly, as Grant and producer Samuel Goldwyn battled over the actor’s interpretation of an angel (perhaps inevitably, since Hollywood offered few if any role models). In desperation, Grant was asked to swap roles with co-star David Niven, who wanted to escape his bishop’s garb for Grant’s showier role. Grant then tried to quit the film. Goldwyn sweetened the actor’s sizable advance with an additional $100,000, for a total of $400,000. Grant stayed.

The seemingly indispensable Jean Arthur was among those tapped for the title role. Once again, she said no, to the ultimate gain of Loretta Young. But disaster still loomed: With its release just weeks away, preview audiences gave the film low marks. Goldwyn frantically hired writers Billy Wilder and Charles Brackett to script new scenes over one weekend. The new material was shot the following week; as a result, “The Bishop’s Wife” made its release date and went on to earn an Academy Award nomination for best picture.

In 1934, an even more innocent Christmas fantasy film sparked a war between its producer and stars, when veteran comedy producer Hal Roach decided to cast his longtime team of Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy in a movie of Victor Herbert’s stage musical “Babes in Toyland.”

Roach carefully prepared an elaborate story treatment, casting Laurel as Simple Simon and Hardy as Toyland’s Pie Man. The producer planned to fill out the cast with his other comedy stars, such as Spanky McFarland from “Our Gang.”

As documented by Randy Skretvedt in his book “Laurel and Hardy: The Magic Behind the Movies,” Roach took the idea to Laurel, the uncredited writer-director behind the duo’s films.

The comedian refused to play the nursery rhyme characters; he preferred to develop a story with his own team of writers. He evidently also objected to Roach’s notion of an all-star cast; in the final film, no other famous comedians appear.

To Roach’s credit, however, the producer finally gave in to Laurel’s completely different vision of the material, which cast the duo as bumbling toy makers.

Recalled Roach: “I was so disgusted in light of his opposition that I just said, ‘Enough. I’m out of the thing completely. Go make the picture.’ ”

But Roach did pay frequent visits to the expensive shoot, witnessing several production-stopping accidents (including torn ligaments for Laurel) and illnesses (Hardy’s tonsillitis, ruptured stomach muscles for Old King Cole from too much laughing). Roach was also still battling Laurel.

Said co-star Henry Brandon: “Roach would tell Laurel his suggestions on the comedy scenes, then they’d go into Roach’s office and yell at each other. It was a real battle of egos. But Laurel got to do things his way.”

The finished film--later retitled “March of the Wooden Soldiers”--was a major hit, but it created a lasting division between the producer and his top stars.

“I knew that after ‘Babes in Toyland’ I was through making Laurel and Hardy pictures,” Roach later said. “At that time it got to the point where it was no longer any fun.” In one respect Laurel did have to compromise. He had wished to make “Toyland” in color, but the process was too expensive. Some 50 years later, his frustrated vision was realized to a degree, when the comic’s estate authorized a colorized version of the film.

Finally, an even more beloved Christmas favorite also had to survive a skeptical producer and script woes. In 1946, 20th Century Fox chief Darryl Zanuck was approached with a whimsical story of a department store Santa who insists he’s the real McCoy. Zanuck was tempted to pass.

“He didn’t much like fantasies of any kind,” recalled John Payne, who would eventually co-star in “Miracle on 34th Street.” In a further sign of Zanuck’s disdain, the film was released in the summer of 1947, but delighted audiences made “Miracle” a solid box-office hit, and the film went on to win three Academy Awards.

One character who failed to survive from Valentine Davies’ original treatment was an alcoholic father of the young Santa-doubter played by Natalie Wood.

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A “Wonderful Life” with Grant or a grittier “Miracle” might not have been a bad thing--but it’s unlikely those films would have captivated us as much. So remember: Amid the less-than-inspired holiday comedies and misguided remakes churned out by Pottersville--er, Hollywood--there are gems that survived the process.

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WAIT, THERE’S MORE . . .

Bobbie Anderson--a.k.a. young George Bailey--grew up to be Bob Anderson. At 63, he looks back on the role of a lifetime. Page 73.