Hi, I’m Annice and I’ve never seen Home Alone.
*Slap face in shock*
I know — it sounds impossible. In my defence, for the first three years of my life I watched nothing but Beauty and the Beast (1991) on repeat, and then I discovered books. Still, with the holidays approaching I decided to see what all the fuss was about and sit down with the film that usually gets the biggest “Are you joking?” reaction when I tell people I’ve never watched it.
For anyone who hasn’t seen it, Home Alone follows Kevin McCallister — played by a young Macaulay Culkin — who wakes up one morning to find he has been accidentally left home when his family flies to Paris for the holidays. The movie opens with a chaotic household, sibling squabbles and the kind of family dynamics that make the idea of a solo day at home feel like a dream to a kid. Kevin’s immediate plan when he realises he’s alone? Ice cream, movies and unrestrained freedom (adults: don’t jump on the bed — you paid for that mattress).
As the story unfolds, a pair of bumbling burglars calling themselves “The Wet Bandits” spot the empty houses of holiday travellers and decide to take advantage. Kevin, left to his own devices, must protect his home. What follows is a series of ingenious and often painfully hilarious booby traps that turned out to be far funnier than I expected — legitimately laugh-out-loud moments that rely on classic slapstick rather than modern visual effects.
Watching the film for the first time brought up a question I couldn’t ignore: why is everyone in Kevin’s life so mean to him? There’s no hint he’s a particularly bad child; he’s just a kid who wants help packing and someone to eat the pizza destined for him. The family’s treatment of Kevin makes his delight at being alone completely understandable — if Buzz were my brother, I’d also be grateful for a day to myself. The movie doesn’t dwell on why Kevin is mistreated, but it lets his independence and resourcefulness shine.
One of the film’s most notorious moments — the scene where Kevin slaps aftershave on his face and lets out that famous scream — surprised me. I had assumed his scream was a reaction to the burglars or the shock of being left behind, but it’s actually triggered by the sting of aftershave. Watching the buildup to that gag, and realising how perfectly it plays for a child’s perspective, made me appreciate the film’s comedic timing and childlike logic.
Despite my nitpicking, Home Alone is a genuinely great movie and an enjoyable holiday viewing experience. It’s given me more cultural shorthand than I expected — I finally understand the joke “Merry Christmas, you filthy animal” and the enduring appeal of “The Wet Bandits” as a pub quiz team name. The film’s influence on popular culture is obvious once you’ve seen it, and I now get why people react so dramatically when they learn I’d never watched it.
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People often say that early ’90s films feel dated, but Home Alone largely avoids that trap. The humour is rooted in character and situation, which keeps it relatable decades later. In some ways Kevin anticipates a certain kind of modern internet personality — the solo-morning routine, the mock-hosted party, the gleeful mischief. The film captures the freedom a kid feels when the grown-ups are gone and turns that feeling into a clever piece of family entertainment.
The house-defence sequences are the highlight: inventive, unapologetically silly and utterly satisfying. There’s a joy in watching Kevin improvise his way through escalating threats, and the movie balances the danger and comedy with surprising warmth. By the time the family returns and the emotional notes land, the film delivers a heart-warming finale that hits the right chords without feeling saccharine.
What stayed with me most was the movie’s simple moral: love your family, even when they’re exasperating and even when they make terrible mistakes. Kevin’s reunion with his family is a reminder of the complicated, messy affection that holds people together — and yes, that includes families who occasionally forget a kid on purpose or by accident. I’ve already found myself quoting lines and laughing at scenes that I’d only heard about for years.
Now that I’ve finally watched Home Alone, my next holiday film mission is to watch Die Hard for the first time and see how that iconic action-first-time reaction compares. For now, I’m content to have discovered a true holiday classic and a character — Kevin — who, for all his cheeky antics, feels like a tiny, mischievous spirit animal: “a lovely cheese pizza just for me.”