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A John Hughes/Chris Columbus joint, Home Alone is the heartwarming tale of an upper-middle-class family who go to Paris and accidentally leave their youngest child behind like an extra carry-on they didn’t feel like paying for. Eight-year-old Kevin McCallister—played by a pint-sized, eyebrow-acting Macaulay Culkin—responds to this minor hiccup by eating junk food, watching gangster movies, and turning his house into a suburban Saw trap for two burglars whose crime is mostly being too stupid to quit. Those burglars are Joe Pesci and Daniel Stern, delivering what may be cinema’s most sustained assault on human skulls outside of a cartoon.

In a way, Home Alone is basically It’s a Wonderful Life if George Bailey wished everyone away and immediately started committing war crimes against local criminals. While Catherine O’Hara panics her way across continents and John Heard quietly realizes he’s a terrible father, Kevin learns that family matters… but also that you can permanently disable two grown men with household items. It’s Christmas magic, but with more concussions and far fewer angels getting their wings.