Bless director Michael Curtiz and screenwriters Norman Krasna, Norman Panama, and Melvin Frank for starting off “White Christmas” on a good foot. Within a matter of seconds after the opening credits of the 1954 film have rolled on by, Bing Crosby begins crooning Irving Berlin’s supernal title song. A friend with whom I was watching the film couldn’t believe the audacity of this tack, seeing it as similar to delivering the punchline of a joke before the setup.

But, then, this was a friend who got up and walked out on “White Christmas.” Not because the sine qua non of the film had up-and-gone — the title song is repeated at the end of the movie — nor because offense was taken at a dance number titled “I’d Rather See a Minstrel Show”; instead, my companion found the plot, characterizations, and settings antediluvian, as if the exigencies of 2024 had forever rendered the comforts of 1954 nugatory. Which prompts the question: How well has “White Christmas” stood the test of time?

“White Christmas” is undergoing a limited theatrical re-release upon its 70th anniversary, and was recently issued as a 4K Blu-ray by Paramount Pictures. The film has been a staple of annual lists of the best holiday movies, though it has never ranked as high as “It’s a Wonderful Life” (1946), “Miracle on 34th Street” (1947), “A Christmas Carol” (1951), or, um, “Die Hard” (1988). 

The reputation of Curtiz’s picture has, by and large, overtaken its inspiration, Mark Sandrich’s “Holiday Inn” (1942). That Crosby-Fred Astaire vehicle is fondly remembered for introducing the song “White Christmas” and regularly admonished for Der Bingle’s blackface rendition of Berlin’s “Abraham.” Curtiz and crew had the sense to excise the burnt cork when staging “I’d Rather See a Minstrel Show,” though traces of the showbiz convention “we all miss” can be gleaned from details in the set design.

Astaire was to have been reunited with Crosby in “White Christmas,” but turned down the role during one of his peripatetic bouts of retirement. Donald O’Connor subsequently signed on, but fell ill with a fever whose transmission he blamed on a regular co-star, Francis the Talking Mule. When Danny Kaye stepped in as Crosby’s co-star, Frank and Panama were hired to provide material specific to the entertainer’s talents. Frank’s memories of doing so were stark: “Writing that movie was the worst experience of my life.”

There are, needless to say, worse experiences than sitting through “White Christmas,” even for those put off by the inherent artificiality of movie musicals or the social inequities that will invariably be parsed by those on the prowl for such things.

Readers who have followed various strains of critical theory should note that Curtiz’s film has, over the years, been pointed up for a contradictory array of attributes, being seen as an artifact that is both anti-racist and pro-white supremacy; toxic in its masculinity and proto-feminist; prole-adjacent and at the forefront of queer theory. I mean, how else are we to read the drag-inflected bromance between Bob Wallace (Crosby) and Phil Davis (Kaye)?

A work of art is fair game for interpretation, but sometimes ideologues should let the music do the talking, the toes do the tapping, and the bells jingle as they may. As it is, “White Christmas” is a polished mid-20th century entertainment, a bit arch by contemporary tastes. But don’t fool yourself that it wasn’t arch back in the day: The progression of time doesn’t necessarily lead to a progression of taste. There’s fun to be had here.

Crosby is well worn in his affectations and Kaye’s schtick is an acquired taste, but the movie is host to spectacular romantic leads: Rosemary Clooney and Vera-Ellen. Both women seem to be enjoying themselves tremendously — Clooney signed on just to have the opportunity to sing with Crosby — and their enthusiasm is palpable. 

The dance numbers are superb; my favorite is an avant-gardist takedown titled “Choreography.” Also, the perpetually underrated Vera-Ellen is always worth attending to. Her leggy esprit and buoyant athleticism help make “White Christmas” a winning holiday confection.